Remember Tomorrow (5 page)

“John, I can hear something!” Mildred exclaimed softly, starting to pull at the rocks, testing for those which she could move without too much risk of bringing others down upon her. She began to make a path, hearing the movements of rock caused by Jak moving Doc, and figuring that they weren’t too far away.

Meanwhile, Jak had managed to pull Doc out of the pileup and while Ryan cast an anxious glance at the area beyond, Krysty checked the old man. His breathing was shallow and fast, taking in little air.

“How is he?” Ryan queried.

“Not so good. We need to get him out of here as soon as possible. All the dust and shit from the cave-in has given him some kind of respiratory problem.”

“Soon as we find Mildred and J.B.,” Ryan stated, watching the point where Jak’s body was disappearing into the rocks as he tunneled toward the missing companions.

Mildred could hear him coming nearer as she, too, cleared rocks from her path. “John, hang in there,” she whispered over her shoulder. “We’re nearly there.”

Like Doc, she had never been so glad to see Jak’s face as when he removed the last piece of rock that separated them. He grinned, but said nothing, moving back to allow her to wriggle through the small hole he had made.

“John?” She waited until John muttered an acknowledgment before she continued. “John, we’re through—just follow me.”

J.B. heard her words as though they traveled through a long tunnel.

Jak was helping Mildred to squeeze through the gap he had made when he first felt a ripple in the rocks beneath them, a trembling that foretold of a wave to come.

“Ryan—”

“I feel it,” he replied, rushing to help Jak pull Mildred through the gap. “It’s about to go.”

“John’s hurt and he’s still back there,” Mildred said urgently, turning back to see if the Armorer was following her. There was no sign of him.

She was about to speak again when it hit, like someone had taken hold of the cave and tugged it. The ripple was the forerunner of a wave that had built deep within the cave system, as though the initial rockfall had traveled down and come back on itself, magnified tenfold.

The rock around them pulsed and moved as if it were living matter. The dirt floor rose up to meet them as they were flung down. They were carried on the wave, but felt as though they were going nowhere. The bulb broke in the flash and the companions were plunged into darkness. They didn’t know if they were moving forward or backward, up or down; all they knew was that they were being buffeted. Each one felt the pain and force of being flung against rocks. Each was alone, no longer knowing where the others were…and then there was total darkness as the force of the wave, the pummeling of the rocks, was too much to take. A black curtain dropped over all of them.

Oblivion.

Strange and haunting visions filled Ryan Cawdor’s head. Trader loomed large, laughing at him, spittle running down his chin, eyes wild and fiery, calling him all kinds of a stupe for getting them into this position. Then Trader mutated into his dead brother Harvey, who was dripping blood and falling over as Ryan pummeled him with blows, screaming, “You as well?” Ryan’s twisted nephew Jabez laughed in the background before coming forward with a long sword grasped in his hands. Ryan was astounded to find that he had no weapons with which to defend himself.

Jabez yelled triumphantly, charging toward him, swinging the blade. Was that Dean in the background saying “It’ll soon be over, Dad”?

With a rebel yell, Jabez brought the blade down onto Ryan…

The one-eyed man sat bolt upright, yelling into the darkness. There were several things that made him aware it had been nothing but a nightmare: it was now dark and cold when moments ago it had been warm; he ached all over, feeling as though he had taken a trip down whitewater rapids without a boat; all the blood he could feel on his body was now dried, cracking on his skin as he moved; his head felt as though someone had been using it as a hammer.

Then it hit him. He was sitting upright, but not in a cave under tons of rock. He was breathing and still alive, and although it was dark all around him, as his eyes adjusted he could see that it was actually the dark of a moonless night, a few stars visible through a cloudy sky. It was also fireblasted cold, as he was suddenly aware of his breath misting in front of him.

Tentatively, testing for any breaks or sprains as he got to his feet and disentangled himself from the few rocks and the mounds of soil that were covering him, Ryan rose and took a long look around, trying to get his bearings. In this darkness, in a landscape that had been ground down into featureless blandness over the decades, it was a thankless task. Even though his eye had now adjusted to the gloom, he could see nothing that would mark out the territory as anything familiar.

As he looked around, he found it hard to work out how, exactly, he had ended up at this point. He could remember trying to dig out Mildred and J.B., and then some kind of quake in the caves. Somehow they had been caught on an earth-movement like a wave, thrown out of the cave system when it crested at the surface. At least, he had. What about the others?

Moving slowly, still testing the range of movement he had, sharp pains reminding him of the violence his body had encountered, Ryan began to look around. He was moving more easily with each step; aching limbs that were cramped as much as bruised started to respond; his circulation pumped stronger as he exerted himself.

Ryan tried to keep down the anxiety that was rising within him. As he circled the debris, he began to feel that he was alone and that the others were lost to him. The thought that fate could have separated them after all they had fought against was something too cruel to contemplate.

He heard a groan. Whirling, trying to locate where it emanated from, he saw a pile of rocks and debris begin to move, accompanied by more moans. Moving as swiftly as his still pain-deadened and cramping limbs would let him, Ryan half ran, half dragged himself to where the moans and movement were. Falling to his knees, he began to dig around the source of the moaning. He scooped away piles of earth and small stones, picking out larger lumps of rock. He had no idea who was underneath, or what part of them he was uncovering, until a foot came into view—a foot shod in a cowboy boot that glittered, even in this fallow light, at the toe.

“Krysty,” he whispered, relief flooding him. He burrowed frantically, uncovering her prone body. She moved against him as he reached her torso, feebly batting at him with weak arms, as though trying to ward off an attacker. It was simple to deflect these movements and keep uncovering her.

By the time he was able to take hold of her, she was semiconscious, muttering to herself. As Ryan tried to lift her free, he stumbled, his legs and arms giving way under the weight. It was all he could do not to drop back onto the rocks. Sweat spangling his brow and running in rivulets down his face, he braced himself, taking the faltering steps necessary to bring them beyond the area of rock debris.

As he placed her on softer earth, she opened her eyes. But they were still unseeing and she mumbled incoherently.

“Wait, wait here,” Ryan said hoarsely, the effort of uncovering and then carrying her having drained him. “I’m going to look for the others.”

Leaving her, he stumbled back toward the area of debris. Now, as the sun began to rise and cast the first pallid glow across the land, he could see that they had been forced out through the mouth of a pothole that was almost flat to the earth. It was a little like the one they had dived into when the storm had hit, and Ryan scanned the area, hoping that he would be able to recognize the landscape now there was some light.

It still seemed alien and unidentifiable.

No matter. The important thing now was to try to find the others—if they had been as lucky as Krysty and himself. He didn’t feel lucky as pain lanced through him, and his head felt as though it had swollen to several times its normal size. But at least he was alive. What of the others?

He began to plan a methodical search, using the light to finally ascertain the extent of the debris thrown up from the pothole. It extended in a radius of several hundred yards and, looking to where he had dragged himself out and where he had found Krysty, he could see that they had been flung some ways. The question was, where would the others have been thrown?

As the area lightened with the rising sun and he was able to get a clear view, Ryan felt both positive and depressed at the same time. Krysty and himself were alive, so chances were that the others also survived. The area proscribed by the arc of debris gave him a definite area in which to make a search. That was the positive part. By the same token, it would soon start to get hot, making searching hard. Krysty was still laid out and he wasn’t exactly triple fit right now. And why hadn’t the others made any sound to indicate they were still alive? Mebbe they were somewhere in the debris…but mebbe they’d bought the farm along the way.

He heard movement behind him and turned slowly to see Krysty hobbling toward him. Which was just as well, as his slow turn was supposed to have been quick, but his protesting muscles and tendons were failing to respond to his demands.

“Hey,” she said in a small voice almost as bruised as her body, “found anyone else yet?”

He shook his head. “Where to start?” he added, gesturing at the debris.

“Two pairs of hands are better than one, right? I’ll start over there—” she gestured a few hundred yards away “—and you start here. We’ll work around until we reach the other’s start point. Okay?”

“Good as any other plan.” He shrugged, watching her limp toward the point where she wanted to start digging, and realizing that she’d chosen a far-flung point to give her the time to psyche herself up for the search, pushing her tired and aching body as she walked.

Letting her go, Ryan bent his back toward his own task.

With two of them, the task seemed that much easier, despite the increment of heat that would make it impossible in a few hours. Heads down, not wanting to waste time looking up unless they heard a shout from the other, they both went about their task.

It was slow and tedious, but it did yield a result. Ryan heard Krysty call, her voice small but triumphant. He couldn’t make out the words, but he looked up to find her waving at him, gesturing urgently to the rubble at her feet.

Ryan began to move toward her, stumbling over the debris, his aching legs not as feeble as before, but still not carrying him as fast as he would wish. He careered over the rocks and soil until he reached the point where Krysty was now down on her haunches, slowly but purposefully moving earth and rock. Ryan could hear Krysty mumbling and he could hear another voice trying to answer, moaning in pain.

Falling to his knees, the one-eyed man began to dig around the voice, around the area where Krysty was already burrowing. Ignoring the sun beating down on his back, he moved earth, stone and rock until a form became discernible.

Within five minutes, Krysty and Ryan had managed to uncover Mildred. She was coated in a layer of dust and her clothes were ripped, with some signs of bleeding on her left leg, but otherwise it seemed to be shock more than anything that was keeping her down. They gave her water and she choked some of it down. Looking around with unfocused eyes, she tried to take in what had happened, squinting against the bright light, unable to discern at first that it was Ryan and Krysty who had uncovered her.

Stumbling between them, they carried her free of the debris and left her, imploring her to rest up as they resumed their search. But it was too much for Mildred to see them return to their digging while she was simply lying there. Forcing herself to her feet, she staggered over and joined Krysty as soon as she was able to keep her balance.

The sun moved farther into the sky, the Arkansas dust bowl getting hotter and more oppressive. All three of them sweated heavily, the salts in their dehydrated muscles cramping as they sifted their way through the rubble, working out from the center and clockwise. Finding Mildred so quickly had been an incredible stroke of luck, and one not readily repeated. It was a hard slog.

They had been digging for almost two hours, by the progress of the sun, when they made their next discovery. Or, rather, when they became aware of something stirring….

Mildred heard it first. Unable to waste breath on speaking, she tugged at Krysty’s arm. The titian-haired beauty ceased her own excavations as Mildred indicated where she had heard the noise. In the sudden silence, Krysty was able to divine that the noise was coming from only a short way away. It sounded like someone trying to burrow their way out. The two women exchanged glances, then made their way over to the source of the sound.

Coming upon the site, they could see that there was someone beneath the rubble who was struggling for release.

“Ryan!” Krysty yelled, her voice cracking from dehydration and tiredness. “Over here!”

Ryan looked up to see Krysty and Mildred standing over a pile of rubble that seemed to be moving of its own accord. He rushed across the rubble, his limbs stronger, feeling renewed with each step now that they had found another one of their company.

Krysty and Mildred were digging when Ryan arrived, moving rubble from on top of the moving body, desperately trying to free it. They scrabbled away the soil and rocks until a mane of white hair became visible, followed by a white, scarred face that was bruised and covered in blood and dust.

“Jak!” Ryan exclaimed, pulling the youth clear of the debris.

“Shit, thought was buying farm,” Jak muttered, coming to his feet. Despite the fact that he had been unconscious for some time and covered in rocks, the albino’s remarkable powers of recovery showed themselves as he shook himself. Despite the fact that he was aching all over, he still held himself upright and seemed less affected by their strange journey than those who had been moving around for some time.

“What happened? Where Doc and J.B.?” Jak asked tentatively, moving all his limbs, testing his muscles. Ryan filled him in briefly on both what he knew and what he had supposed.

“Start looking for others,” Jak said simply when Ryan had finished.

The albino joined Ryan on the far side of the ruins, while Krysty and Mildred resumed looking around the area where Jak had stirred.

The search continued for some time, with no further success. The sun grew high, the heat beat down and the search became harder because of the conditions, because of their weariness, and because it seemed to be so fruitless. The area of debris that was unturned grew smaller, and still no sign of anyone.

“Here!” Jak yelled suddenly. He beckoned the others toward him. Ryan was closest and as the others struggled toward Jak, Ryan could see something poking up from the rubble where the albino was standing. As he got nearer, he could see that it was the end of a black cane.

Doc’s sword stick.

As Ryan reached the spot, Jak was already on his knees, clearing away the debris on the body. Ryan fell to his knees when he was close enough and started to move the rubble, shifting soil and rocks methodically. When Mildred and Krysty reached them, they, too, fell to their knees and began to dig.

Doc wasn’t moving under the rubble—come to that, they had no way of knowing if he was actually under there or if it was merely his sword stick.

Clearing the rubble around the end of the stick, Mildred heaved a sigh of relief when she found that Doc’s fist was wrapped stubbornly around the silver lion’s-head. More rubble found his arm uncovered, while Jak had managed to unearth his head and shoulders. It took some time to clear all of the debris from around and over him, but eventually Doc was completely clear.

Mildred examined him as thoroughly as she could. He was breathing shallowly but regularly, and there seemed to be no bones broken. But he was unconscious. Opting to move him clear of the area, Ryan and Jak took him between them and carried him clear of the area. The movement stirred him and he began to speak…almost inaudibly, with no real coherence.

“…when shall we three meet…parting is such sweet—such sweet what, do I wonder? My dear, you look so sweet tonight…. I thought I would never see you again, sweet Lori…. Or is it Emily? Did either of you really exist, I wonder, or were you little more than the fevered imagining of those sweet, immortal moments before death finally claims its own? Can it be immortal if measured against death, I wonder? Ah, what a dilemma for any philosopher…a problem so simple a five-year-old could solve it. Someone, pray go and get me a five-year-old child before it drives me mad.”