Escape from the Badlands. Dana Mentink
“Rain?”
“Yes, Charlie. It’s raining. We’ll be at the campground soon, okay?”
He pulled his flannel blanket with the trains printed on it to the side of his face and reached out to pet the elderly cat snuggled at his feet.
She looked again at the GPS fixed to the dashboard, which suddenly blinked to a blank screen.
“Don’t quit on me now,” she muttered, pushing down panic at the thought of being lost in this maze of twists and turns. At this point she just wanted to get out of the canyon. The sides were high, giving her the pinched, closed-in feeling that something bad was going to happen between those gray walls.
Stop being silly. You’re driving through a storm, that’s all.
Her stomach clenched into a tight ball as the storm let loose, pounding the roof of the car with fury.
Charlie whimpered, and the cat meowed her alarm.
“It’s okay. We’ll be fine in a minute. You just keep Paddy Paws company.” The old cat settled down again, curled in a gray ball against Charlie’s warm side, just like the day she found them both in the backseat of her car.
They were far from fine as the wheel failed to respond. Frantically she yanked it back and forth, to no avail, as the car drifted. The water began to fill the canyon, as if someone had turned on a giant faucet, causing the car to hydroplane. Willing herself not to scream, she wrenched ineffectively at the wheel. It began to turn in lazy circles until the car smacked into a rocky projection and lodged there. Flash flood, of course. She should have known it, shouldn’t have made the stupid mistake of entering the canyon in these conditions.
She peered out the window, terrified to see the water rising steadily. It was cresting the bottom of the door and moving fast. If she didn’t get Charlie out of that car, they would drown. The roar of the wind and rain was so loud she could not hear Charlie’s crying now. She reached over the backseat and unbuckled him, pulling him to the front. He wrapped his arms and legs around her, burying his face in her neck, clutching his train blanket. Paddy leaped into the front seat, too.
With fingers gone cold, she unlocked the driver’s door and pushed.
Nothing.
She kicked and slammed at it with all her might but the door would not open, pushed tight by the force of the water outside, which now reached the bottom of the car window. Fighting down panic, she looked around for something to break the window. The jack was in the trunk.
Again she kicked at the door with every ounce of strength, but it would not open. Lightning scorched the sky, illuminating the terrifying flood outside the window. Thunder roared around them and they both cried out.
Heart in her throat, she watched the water rise, murmuring words of comfort that she did not believe to the terrified boy in her lap.
Shane continued to stare down into the howling storm that buffeted the little car below. He recognized the moment when the water overwhelmed the vehicle and it began to hydroplane. The car was now wedged against the rocks, and Shane had not seen anyone escape. Even if the driver had managed to shove open the door, he would have to be a strong swimmer to escape the flood that thundered past the car.
He didn’t allow himself to think about it. Instead he trotted to the edge to hook up to the rappelling rope.
Gleeson yelled from behind. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a car down there in trouble.”
“You can’t do that. They’ve closed the ropes course. Too dangerous.”
Shane shot him a grin. “Do you know a faster way down?”
He watched Gleeson’s openmouthed stare with a flicker of satisfaction as he slid over the side. The wind buffeted him back and forth as he rappelled down, his knees and elbows banging into the wet rocks on either side. He tried to keep the car in view during his descent, but the driving rain made it nearly impossible. At one point he began to twist helplessly, rocked by the violence of the storm, thunder splitting the air around him, until he regained some sense of balance and continued down dizzily to the bottom.
Unhooking quickly, he fought the disequilibrium and ran across the slippery ground in the direction of the car, thinking all the while that the driver could have used a dose of common sense. As little as two feet of water was enough to carry away a full-size car, and driving into a boxed-in canyon in the middle of a storm was a recipe for disaster.
Tripping on a root exposed by the torrential rain, he fell, skidding in the sandy earth for a yard or two before he regained his footing and pushed himself to go faster. The driver wouldn’t have much time before the car was completely inundated. He reached the spot closest to the half-filled canyon where he could secure a rope to a sturdy pinnacle of rock. The wind tore at him as he lowered himself down. Water swirled up to the driver’s window. Rain stung his eyes, and he could make out only the pale gleam of a face.
Pulling a flashlight from his belt, he yelled over the wind. “Get back!” It took two blows for the window to break. Hundreds of rounded bits of safety glass were snatched immediately away by the pull of the water now rushing in through the gap. Using his boot, he cleared as much of the remaining glass as he could and reached in to grab the person in the car. The tension in that slender arm was palpable as fingers locked around his. It took all Shane’s strength to fight against the water, which poured into the car in a mighty tide.
Shoulders burning, he held tight to a handful of slippery fabric as he heaved with all his might until the figure pulled free and into his arms, clutching a wet bundle. He noted that it was a woman, long dark hair plastered over her face.
“We’ll make for that ledge!” he yelled in her ear.
If she replied, he didn’t hear as he fought against the water, which sucked at his waist and threatened to tear her out of his arms. Hand over hand, he pushed through the foam until they reached the relative safety of a small ledge, just above the water level.
He held on until the woman found a foothold and turned her face to his.
Something struck him as familiar about the dark eyes peeking from under the curtain of wet hair. Her hands were full of a bundle of some kind, and she jerked her head to clear the hair away.
His heart thumped to a stop.
Kelly.
He thought he’d gone mad.
“What?” he managed, so startled he almost lost his footing on the ledge.
Her eyes rounded as recognition dawned on her face. Her lips parted but she didn’t speak.
“What are you doing here?” he finally managed.
Instead of answering, she pushed the bundle into his hands. The bundle turned out to be a little boy, face stark with terror.
And Kelly grabbed the trailing rope and plunged back toward the water.
TWO
Kelly didn’t allow herself to acknowledge the shock of seeing Shane. She had another mission right now. The rope was wet and slick in her hands as she skidded down the rocks toward the rapidly filling car. She could faintly hear Charlie’s high-pitched wail.
Don’t worry, Charlie. I’ll get her. I’ve got to get her.
The cat, that old bag of bones with the missing front tooth, was the only thing Charlie had left of his mother, and Kelly was not about to let the animal drown. Feet skidding, knees banging into the sharp rocks, she slid down the rope, grateful that she remembered a few things from her spelunking adventures with Shane in their happier days.
Shane was here. Right here, in this bit of South Dakota nowhere. Why?
She pushed away the thought. There was no time to indulge her feelings of betrayal now.
Find Paddy Paws.