Hurricane Rescue Page 8

  “Oh, man,” Noah exhaled. He looked nervously over his shoulder at the kids and their heavy backpacks. “How are we going to get them over that?”

  Ben stepped closer to the water to investigate. He put one foot on the wood and pushed down hard. It wobbled and bounced, but it was still firmly attached to its concrete base. As long as the wood itself held out, they should be able to make it.

  Ben walked back to Noah and Jack and sighed. “Very carefully,” he said.

  Within a few minutes, Ben, Noah, and Jack had come up with a pretty good plan for getting across. But they would have to go one at a time.

  Noah was first. The tether he had created with the dogs’ leashes was more than long enough to reach across the creek. Ben tied it tightly around Noah’s waist, weaving it through Noah’s belt loops. There was no way it would come off.

  Then Ben clipped the other end to Hero’s collar. Hero would stay on the bank while Noah made his way—slowly—across the bridge. If Noah fell, Hero was strong enough to pull him back up onto the bank.

  “You ready?” Ben asked.

  Noah nodded but didn’t speak. He took the first step onto the wood. It sagged under his weight, and he grimaced. He took another step. Then another. The bridge dipped and bowed as he tread across it carefully. The water ran over the tops of his boots.

  Ben and Jack stood on either side of Hero, their hands on the tether for backup. Ben forced himself to inhale, then exhale. Inhale, exhale. Noah took a few more steps. He gripped what was left of the railing for balance.

  The bridge held. Noah stepped onto the muddy ground on the other side. “Whoop!” he yelled, his fist punching the air in victory.

  “Nice work!” Ben yelled.

  “Go, Noah!” Jack shouted.

  The Boy Scouts cheered in unison.

  Noah untied the tether from his waist and found a strong tree on the far bank. He tied that end of the leash to it. Now the boys would have something other than the railing to hold on to.

  “Okay, guys, line up single file,” Jack called out to them. The boys did as they were told.

  Jonah went first. He bit his lower lip and focused, hard, on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Don’t look down!” Noah urged him from the other side. “Look at me.” Jonah lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Noah. “That’s right, buddy. One foot in front of the other. You got it.”

  Jonah looked tiny under his giant backpack, his skinny arms held out to the sides for balance. When he reached the middle of the bridge, he hesitated over the churning water for a moment. Then he forged ahead. When he made it to the other side, he jumped into Noah’s arms in triumph.

  Emmett was next. Then Isaiah. All the while, Hero stood firmly in the mud, his muscles flexed as he braced the tether with his body.

  Ben unhooked the tether from Hero’s collar as he prepared to tie the cord around a boy named Diego’s waist. As he did, Hero raised his head and cocked it to the side. His ears shot up, he sniffed at the air, and he stared upstream, into the distance. Ben knew his dog’s posture could only mean one thing: Hero was tuned into something they couldn’t hear or see yet. The hair on Ben’s arms stood on end.

  Jack had noticed it too. And so had Cory.

  Cory stood close to Ben. He turned his tearstained face up to look Ben in the eye.

  “What is it?” Cory asked quietly, so the other boys couldn’t hear.

  “I don’t know,” Ben said truthfully. “But Hero senses something. Hero—what is it, boy?”

  Hero didn’t wait around for Ben to figure out the answer. He sprinted toward the remaining four boys, who were spread out along the bank, waiting nervously for their turn to cross the river. He ran in circles around them, slowly pushing them into a tight cluster next to Ben.

  “He’s herding them,” Jack said to Ben.

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “But why?”

  The Boy Scouts’ faces were suddenly tight with worry.

  Hero ran back and forth between them and the water’s edge. He barked ferociously, repeating the movement and the sound over and over.

  Finally it clicked. Ben knew what Hero was trying to tell them.

  “We’re out of time,” Ben whispered to Jack. “I don’t know why, but we have to get out of here.” He turned to the kids. “Okay, boys,” he said evenly but firmly, trying to keep the fear he felt out of his voice. “We need to double-time this, okay? That means we can’t go one at a time anymore.”

  Ben handed the end of the leash to Jack.

  “Jack, wrap that around their waists and thread it through their belt loops. It should be long enough.”

  Jack nodded and got to work. The tether was just long enough to attach to the four boys. Ben and Jack were going to have to go across without any safety rope. Jack would go first, with Scout in his arms, then the boys, then Ben.

  And Hero was going to have to go last.

  Ben studied Hero’s body language. The dog was still poised for action, still gazing upstream.

  Ben listened carefully to the various sounds of the forest—rain plinking on the ground, creek water bubbling and sloshing, leaves rustling in the trees, the Boy Scouts breathing heavily. At first he heard nothing out of the ordinary, but then, finally, he picked up on a low hum, a steady whoosh. It was heading downstream, toward them. And it was getting louder. Fast.

  What was it?

  “Let’s go, guys,” Ben said, his encouraging tone just barely masking the terror that was rising in him.

  Jack stepped onto the bridge and turned around to offer his hand to Will. Will put one shaky foot onto the wooden plank. Jack walked backward, with Noah coaching him from the other side. The boys on the far bank watched them silently, their eyes big and round with worry.

  Diego stepped up next, then Nicholas and Cory. The boys shuffled nervously across, the wood dipping a few inches into the water under their weight. They slipped and started to stumble, but Jack steadied them.

  “You’re doing great, guys,” Ben urged them on from his spot next to Hero.

  The sound was getting louder.

  They had to hurry.

  The group was halfway across the bridge when Ben heard Cory crying. The boy had frozen in his tracks, too scared to go any farther.

  “You got this, Cory,” Ben shouted. “You’re almost there. Just a few more feet.”

  “I’m scared!” Cory let out a loud sob. The boys next to him started to cry too, their shoulders shaking.

  “Your dad needs you to keep moving, okay, Cory?” Ben begged him. “We have to go get help so we can go back and get him, remember?”

  That did the trick. Cory still looked miserable, but he sucked in his breath and took one step. Then another. The boys were moving again.

  Ben didn’t have time to feel relief. Suddenly he felt the first stinging sprays of something small and sharp hitting his face and head. It was like a sandstorm—but it wasn’t sand. It was wet and dirty. He wiped his cheek and looked at his hand. It was gritty mud, and it seemed to suddenly fill the air around them.

  Ben looked upstream, and that’s when he saw it.

  It was a mudslide.

  An oozing, spreading, seething layer of mud, gurgling straight down the creek, spilling over the banks on either side and picking up rocks and splintered tree branches as it moved. It was gaining in volume and strength and swallowing up the creek, making everything in its path simply disappear.

  The mud looked alive, and it was moving quickly. Too quickly. They only had a few seconds left before it washed out the bridge entirely, taking the entire group with it.

  “GO!” Ben shouted at the boys and Jack. “Go go go go go!”

  On the other end of the leash, Hero held his ground. He dug his paws into the mud and crouched as low as he could, steadying the boys. Ben stood next to him, holding on to the rope too.

  “Come on come on come on!” Noah shouted. Finally, Jack, Scout, and the rest of the kids tumbled onto land. Noah quickly untied the leash from
the tree and began detaching them from it. The kids scurried out of the path of the mudslide as quickly as they could.

  “Ben, Hero! Let’s go!” Jack shouted.

  Ben looked anxiously toward the mud. It was only a few feet away. They had to move. Now.

  “Hero, go!” Ben commanded. Hero and Ben leaped off the muddy bank at the same moment, landing halfway across the bridge. They raced to the other side just in time.

  With incredible power, the wall of mud blasted into the bridge, ripping it from its posts and tossing it into the air. Within seconds, the bridge had disappeared under the sludge.

  Ben lay on the ground, catching his breath. He was shaking. Hero came over and licked the mud off Ben’s face.

  Noah fell to the ground next to him and let out a long, loud “Whew.”

  “You can say that again,” Ben said. He wanted desperately to rest, but there was no time. He got to his feet. “Everyone okay?” he asked the Boy Scouts.

  Seven little heads nodded.

  Ben pulled his phone from his pocket. Still no reception. Noah checked his phone too. Nothing there either.

  “We have to keep moving,” Noah said.

  Ben nodded. He looked up at the tops of the trees for a moment, enjoying the feel of the solid ground beneath his feet. Today, he had already bested an alligator, a flood, and now a mudslide. What was the hurricane going to throw at them next?

  Whatever it was, they’d have to be ready for it.

  18

  THE RAIN HAD STOPPED, THE SKY above them had cleared, and what looked like a million stars lit up the night. It was beautiful.

  “Look up, guys,” Ben said to the Boy Scouts as they made their way up a hill. The kids let out a refrain of “Wow!” and “Cool!” Some of them looked like they were walking in their sleep. They stumbled and leaned on each other, their eyes half closed. Hero and Scout nudged their legs, trying to keep the boys moving.

  Poor kids, Ben thought. He was tired to the very core—even his bones were exhausted. His backpack felt twice as heavy as it had before. He couldn’t imagine how the little dudes were handling this.

  Just when Ben thought they weren’t going to be able to go a single step farther, though, he saw a welcome sight: the top of the ridge.

  “We made it to the top!” he hollered. The kids cheered. Somehow they mustered up the energy, and together they ran the last few yards to a large clearing at the hill’s summit.

  The Boy Scouts dropped to the ground in relief. They put their heads on their backpacks and sprawled out.

  Ben, Jack, and Noah walked to the edge of the clearing. There was just enough moonlight for them to see the land around them.

  The entire forest was in ruins. Trees were down everywhere. Water flooded where there had been dry land just that morning. There were no animals—everything was still and silent. And in the distance, Ben saw the silhouette of Gulfport. His town—the only place he had ever lived. The city was dark. All the power must have been knocked out.

  Before Ben could fully process what he was seeing, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His phone! It was working! Hero nosed at Ben’s pocket and licked Ben’s hand.

  Ben snatched the phone out of his jacket and cheered at the text and voice mail notifications that popped up on his screen. Now that he had service again, everything from the last few hours was coming through at once. Ben didn’t stop to read or listen to anything. He swiped at the screen and quickly dialed his dad’s number.

  “Ben!” his dad answered. “Ben, is that you? Are you okay? Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “Hi, Dad. I’m fine—” Ben’s chest swelled with emotion at the sound of his dad’s voice. He ran a hand through Hero’s soft fur to steady himself. “I’m fine—Noah and Jack are okay too. We’re together—and—and we have a Boy Scout troop with us—I’ll explain later.”

  “A Boy Scout troop?” his dad asked, surprised. “Seven kids? Is their leader named Marco?”

  “Yeah,” Ben replied. “Have you been looking for them?”

  His dad let out a short laugh. “Yeah, we’ve been looking for them, Ben. Really hard. I’m so happy you’re with them. Are they all okay?”

  “Their troop leader—he’s got a broken leg and he’s back in a cave. Someone has to go get him. We’ve got his radio so you can find him,” Ben said.

  Ben looked over at Cory, who watched him anxiously. Ben gave the boy a thumbs-up, and Cory broke into a tentative smile.

  “Now tell me—where are you guys?” Ben’s dad asked.

  Ben’s stomach dropped out. This was the part he had been dreading—the part where he had to confess to his dad that he had gone against his word and left the house in the middle of a hurricane.

  “Ben?”

  “We’re—um—I guess we’re sort of—in the woods. The national forest. I’ll text you my location, okay?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Ben heard the buzz of a chaotic police station in the background. People shouted and phones rang. But his dad said nothing for a moment.

  “Send it to me now, son,” his dad finally said, his voice heavy. “I’ll be right there. Are you safe where you are?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Ben said, deeply grateful that his dad hadn’t asked any questions. For now, at least. “We’re fine.”

  “Stay right where you are. We’re on our way. And, Ben—” His dad’s voice cracked.

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “I love you, buddy.”

  “I love you too, Dad. And I’m so sorry.”

  His dad sighed into the phone.

  “Let’s just get you home, son. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Ben hung up and quickly opened his GPS app. He sent his dad their coordinates, then pulled out Marco’s radio and tried to make contact.

  “Marco, can you hear me?” Ben said into the device. The airwaves crackled. “We’re safe. Help is on the way.”

  There was static, then, “Thank you, Ben,” Marco replied. Cory’s eyes filled with tears at the sound of his dad’s voice.

  “Are you okay?” Ben asked. He turned away so Cory couldn’t hear Marco’s response.

  “I’m fine,” Marco said. “The water hasn’t reached me yet. I think the rain must have slowed down.”

  “We should save the battery,” Ben said into his walkie-talkie.

  “Ben?” Marco replied, his voice cracking. “Can you tell Cory I love him, and I’ll see him real soon?”

  “You bet, Marco. I’ll tell him right now.”

  Ben slid the radio into his backpack and turned to Cory. He whispered his dad’s message into the boy’s ear. Cory smiled and swallowed his tears, then ran off to sit with his friends.

  Ben checked the time on his phone. It was five in the morning. For the first time since they’d left the house all those hours ago, Ben felt like everything was going to be okay.

  19

  THE ADRENALINE WORE OFF QUICKLY. HELP was on the way, but the little kids were wet, freezing cold, and scared—and that’s all they could think about. It had started to rain again—not as heavily as before, but enough to remind them that they had been soaked and chilly for hours.

  As they sat and waited, the reality of what they had just been through settled in. One by one, the Boy Scouts started to shiver and cry.

  Cory was in the worst shape.

  “Is my dad still going to be okay?” he asked Ben, his face a mask of worry, his eyes filled with giant tears.

  “He’s fine, bud—he’s fine. And my dad is a cop. He’ll be here any minute with a bunch of officers, and they’re going to go get your dad right away, okay?”

  Cory nodded through his tears. He swallowed hard.

  “When are they coming?” asked Jonah, whose dark wet hair was stuck to his face. “I’m freezing. And hungry.”

  “They’ll be here really soon,” Ben said. “Just a few minutes. Can you hang on for a few more minutes?” He tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. They’d already
divided up all the food Marco had given them and everything they’d brought with them. Granola bars and trail mix didn’t go that far for ten people. He really hoped his dad and his team would get there . . . fast.

  “What’s all this crying?” Noah suddenly said, hopping up from the ground. He made an exaggerated horrified expression. “How can you all sit there feeling sorry for yourselves when there’s baseball to be played?”

  What was Noah talking about? Ben wondered. Baseball? Here? On the top of a giant hill? With what?

  Noah thrust his hands in the air and waved them around. He held a baseball in one hand and wore a mitt on the other. The rain fell on his outstretched arms.

  Ben and Jack burst out laughing.

  “Have you had your mitt and ball with you all this time?” Ben asked Noah.

  Noah just shrugged. “You never know when you might need them.” He looked over at the little kids. “Like now—right, guys?”

  The Boy Scouts looked at him like he was crazy. They sniffled and wiped their noses on their arms.

  But Noah wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “You four,” he said, waving his mitt at Cory, Emmett, Nicholas, and Jonah. “You guys are on my team. Up and at ’em.”

  Reluctantly, the kids got up and clustered around Noah.

  “And you three,” Noah said to the remaining boys on the ground. “You’re with those two yokels.” He gestured at Ben and Jack. “Sorry, kids, but they’re all we’ve got.”

  “Hey!” Jack laughed. He looked at his three new, tiny teammates. “Are we gonna let him talk about us like that, or are we gonna show them how the game is played?”

  The boys giggled.

  “We’re gonna smoke ’em,” Isaiah said in a squeaky little voice. “That’s what we’re gonna do.”

  “Whaaaaaat?!” Noah laughed. He looked at his team. “Let’s do this—huh, guys?”

  “Yeah!” the kids responded.

  The two teams quickly fell into position. Noah put his backpack down as home plate. Ben and Jack used theirs—and Ben’s baseball cap—as the bases.