Десмонд Бэгли - Landslide

I swung round. ‘Clare, get the hell out of here.’ She saw the expression on my face and turned away immediately. ‘Crupper, get everyone out fast.’

Novak plunged past me, heading for the door. ‘I know where they are.’ I followed him and we stood staring up at the dam while the powerhouse erupted like an ants’ nest stirred with a stick. There was no movement on the escarpment — no movement at all. Just a confusion of shadows as the low sun struck on rocks and trees.

Novak said hoarsely, ‘I think they’ll be up there — on the right, just under the dam.’

‘Come on,’ I said, and began to run. It was a long way to the dam and it was uphill and we were pounding up that damned escarpment. I grabbed Novak’s arm. ‘Take it easy — we might start a slide ourselves.’ If the shear strength had fallen according to my estimates it wouldn’t take much disturbance to initiate the chain reaction. The shear strength was probably under five hundred pounds a square foot by now — less than the pressure exerted by Novak’s boot hitting the ground at a dead run.

We moved gently and as fast as we could up the escarpment and it took us nearly fifteen minutes to do that quartermile. Novak lifted his voice in a shout. ‘Skinner! Burke!’ The echoes rebounded from the sheer concrete face of the dam which loomed over us.

Someone quite close said, ‘Yeah, what do you want?’

I turned. A man was squatting with his back to a boulder and looking up at us curiously. ‘Burke!’ said Novak explosively. ‘Where’s Skinner?’

Burke waved. ‘Over behind those rocks.’

‘What’s he doing?’

‘We’re getting ready to blow that stump — that one, there.’

It was a big stump, the remnant of a tall tree, and I could see the thin detonating wire leading away from it. ‘There’s going to be no blasting,’ said Novak and walked quickly over to the stump.

‘Hey!’ said Burke in alarm. ‘Keep away from there. It’s going to blow any second.’

It was one of the bravest things I have seen. Novak calmly leaned over the stump and jerked the wire away, bringing the electrical detonator with it. He tossed it to the ground casually and walked back. ‘I said there’ll be no blasting,’ he said. ‘Now, get the hell out of here, Burke.’ He pointed up to the road that clung to the hillside above the dam. ‘Go that way — not down to the powerhouse.’

Burke shrugged. ‘Okay, you’re the boss.’ He turned and walked off, then paused. ‘If you want the blasting stopped you’ll have to hurry. Skinner’s blowing three stumps all at once. That was only one of them.’

‘My God!’ I said, and both Novak and I turned towards the jumble of rocks where Skinner was. But it was too late. There was a sharp popping sound in the distance, not very loud, and a nearer crack as the detonator Novak had pulled out exploded harmlessly. Two plumes of dust and smoke shot into the air about fifty yards away and hung for a moment before being dissipated by the breeze.

I held my breath and then slowly released it in a sigh. Novak grinned. ‘Looks like we got away with it that time,’ he said. He put his hand to his forehead then looked at the dampness on his fingers. ‘Sure makes a man sweat.’

‘We’d better get Skinner off here,’ I said. As I said it I heard a faint faraway sound like distant thunder — something more felt inside the head than heard with the ears — and there was an almost imperceptible quiver beneath my feet.

Novak stopped in mid-stride. ‘What’s that?’ He looked about him doubtfully.

The sound — if it was a sound — came again and the quiver of the earth was stronger. ‘Look!’ I said, and pointed to a tall, spindly tree. The top was shivering like a grass stalk in a strong wind, and as we watched, the whole tree leaned sideways and fell to the earth. ‘The slide,’ I yelled. ‘It’s started.’

A figure came into sight across the hillside. ‘Skinner!’ shouted Novak. ‘Get the hell out of there!’

The ground thrummed under my boots and the landscape seemed to change before my eyes. It wasn’t anything one could pin down, there was no sudden alteration — just a brief, flickering change. Skinner came running across but he had not come half the distance when the change became catastrophic.

He disappeared. Where he had been was a jumble of moving boulders tossed like corks in a stream as the whole hillside flowed. The entire landscape seemed to slip sideways smoothly and there was a deafening noise, the like of which I had never heard before. It was like thunder, it was like the sound of a jet bomber from very close quarters, it was like the drum-roll of tympani in an orchestra magnified a thousand times — and yet it was like none of these. And underneath the clamour was another sound, a glutinous, sucking noise as you might make when pulling a boot out of mud — but this was a giant’s boot.

Novak and I stood rooted for a moment helplessly looking at the place where Skinner had vanished. But it was no longer correct to call it a place because a place by its nature is a definite locality, a fixed point. Nothing was fixed on this escarpment and the ‘place’ where Skinner had been ground between the boulders was already a hundred yards downhill and moving away rapidly.

I don’t suppose we stood there for more than two or three seconds, although it seemed an eternity. I dragged myself out of this shocked trance and shouted above the racket, ‘Run for it, Novak. It’s spreading this way.’

We turned and plunged across the hillside, heading for the road which represented safety and life. But the chain reaction under our feet, flashing through the unstable clay thirty feet underground, moved faster than we did, and the seemingly solid ground rocked and slid under us, dipping and moving like an ocean.

We ran through a scattering of saplings which bent and swayed in all directions and one fell immediately in front of us, its roots tearing free from the moving ground. I vaulted it and ran on but was momentarily held by a half yell, half grunt from behind. I turned and saw Novak sprawled on the ground, held down by the branch of another toppled tree.

When I bent to examine him he seemed dazed and only half-conscious and I struggled violently to release him. Luckily it was only a sapling but it took all my strength to shift it. The continuous movement of the ground made me feel queasy and all the strength seemed to be leeched from my muscles. It was very hard to think consecutively, too, because of the tremendous noise — it was like being inside a monstrous drum beaten on by a giant.

But I got him free and only just in time. A big glacial boulder moved past, tossing like a cork on a stream, right over the place where he had been pinned. His eyes were open but glazed and he had a witless look about him. I slapped his face hard and a glimmer of intelligence came back. ‘Run,’ I shouted. ‘Run, goddam you!’

So we ran again, with Novak leaning heavily on my arm, and I tried to steer a straight course to safety, something which was damn’ near impossible because this was like crossing a swiftly flowing river and we were being swept downstream. In front of us a fountain of muddy water suddenly jetted fifteen feet into the air and soaked us. I knew what that was — the water was being squeezed out of the quick clay, millions of gallons of it. Already the ground beneath my feet was slippery with mud and we slithered and slid about helplessly as this handicap was added to the violent movements of the earth itself.

But we made it. As we came nearer the edge of the slide the movement became less and I finally let Novak slip to solid ground and sobbed for breath. Not very far away Burke was lying prone, his hands scrabbling into the soil as though to clutch the whole planet to himself. He was screaming at the top of his voice.