Scott Mackay - Phytosphere

Maybe he just guessed. He knows we go to Marblehill from time to time. And he knows we’re broke and can’t go anywhere else for a holiday. I mean… where else would we go? So… maybe it’s not your fault.”

“It’s just that I didn’t want Dad to die of a broken heart.” He could hardly get the words out because he was all choked up.

“It’s okay, Jake. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got the rifle. We’ve got the gun. We should be okay.”

They had gotten no more than another mile when she saw what she at first thought was some kind of optical trick sneaking in from her left field of vision, changing the monotonous look of the highway so that the road appeared to be bending in an odd way, out toward the valley. But then she had to ask herself, was it the movement of the car toward the trees, or of the trees toward the car? Because the trees really looked like they were shifting, and she suddenly remembered a line from grade ten English class, “Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,” because the forest honestly looked as if it were moving. The apparition was so strange, so unexpected, that she felt momentarily dizzy. Then all the bits of visual information collected into a coherent whole, and she realized she was seeing a landslide, like a freight train filled with upright trees rolling down the mountainside at fifteen miles per hour, not in a great rush, but indomitable and massive, the whole dead forest skiing downhill en masse .

“Holy shit!” said Jake. “A landslide!”

She slammed the brakes and the car jerked to a halt. Her body was now rigid and her heart pounded, and panic overcame her like a tsunami. She put the car in reverse and backed up, nearly swerving over the edge—God, she wasn’t good at driving in reverse. She slowed right down, because she thought that maybe her reverse driving might kill them. Yet she was desperately fearful that the landslide would spread. Would the mountain suddenly flatten like a mound of strawberry jam? No. This section held, and at last she brought the car to a stop, and they watched the landslide from a safe distance.

It wasn’t until the landslide petered out that she thought of practicalities. How were they going to get around it? Would they have to take a detour?

She took a nervous breath. “Hanna, let’s see the map.”

Hanna dug out the map. The thing was at least twenty-five years old, and falling apart. Glenda had a look. She studied the various highways and side roads. Yes, a considerable detour. How could they do that, and get all the way to Marblehill on their remaining charge without having to walk part of the way?

And how could they possibly walk when Hanna had run out of medicine and wouldn’t have the breath for it?

“If we don’t find a way around this,” she said, “we’ll have to go back to Dunstan and take 74 to Charlotte.” She peered up the road. “I’m wondering if we can get around on the right shoulder.” Was it worth it? Could they take that risk? “There’s a little ledge along there.” She turned to her kids. “What do you think?”

Hanna and Jake inspected the ledge.

“Are you insane, Mom?” asked Hanna.

Glenda stared at the huge, muddy impasse. Which was the greater risk? Trying to get by on the right

shoulder or going back and having to walk in the dead, dark countryside around Marblehill, the place where Buzz was most likely to ambush them? She thought the road was at least worth investigating.

“We should see how extensive the landslide is,” said Glenda. “If it’s a mile wide, we’ll turn back. If it’s just a little ways…because if we have to take 74 to Charlotte, we’re not going to make it all the way to Marblehill on this one charge. We’ll have to walk partway.”

“Maybe we’ll find some place to charge further along,” said Jake.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Everything’s closed in Wake County. I think it’s the same everywhere.”

She had a look at the ledge a second time. “You guys stay here.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Jake. She could tell he was trying to make up for leaving the note back at the house.

“Jake, don’t desert me,” said Hanna.

“I’m going with Mom,” said Jake. “You’ll be okay in the car.” Jake reached over the seat and patted his sister’s shoulder. “Just sit back and relax. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Mom, make him stay here.”

“Give her the gun, Jake. Just in case.”

“Mom, that’s my gun. She doesn’t know how to use it.”

“She says I get the gun, Jake. Hand it over.”

Jake reluctantly gave her the gun. “Just don’t point it at us. You’ve got to think safety first with a firearm.”

“We’ll be back in five or ten minutes,” said Glenda.

Glenda and Jake got out of the car. The rain soaked their clothes instantly.

As they got closer to the landslide, it reminded her of a sleeping monster. Dead and broken conifers stuck out of its muddy back like giant quills. Yet, by its own momentum, and by the constant erosion of the rain, debris had caved away from the leading edge of the landslide and left a narrow passage along the outside shoulder of the road—a ledge perhaps wide enough for her car?

She looked up the mountainside. God, there was really nothing holding it in place anymore. As they made their way into the narrow passageway along the right side of the road, she felt like the sleeping monster might suddenly open its maw and devour them. To the left, rain ran in rivulets over the broken-away part. She pointed her flashlight at the rivulets, holding her rifle in her other hand. The water was brown and muddy.

She shone her flashlight further afield. “I think it ends up here. We might make it.”

“Except it’s all caved in up here.”

“Just a bit. Maybe the car can get through.”

“Not without getting stuck in that mud.”

“Let’s have a look.”

She climbed the caved-in section, her feet sinking up to her ankles in mud.

As she got close to the other side of the caved-in section, she saw the headlights of a parked vehicle beyond the furthest extent of the landslide. She turned her flashlight off and got to her knees, because even though she couldn’t immediately confirm who it was, she knew it had to be Buzz—Buzz, maybe coming back down the mountain because he had reached a different impasse further up, and was now being thwarted again by this new obstacle. Jake got to his knees beside her.

For several seconds she couldn’t move, couldn’t even look. She was caught in the grip of her own survival instinct, keeping down in all the sopping mud where Buzz couldn’t see her. But then it dawned on her. She had an opportunity here. She had her rifle. And it wouldn’t be like killing that dog, because she could kill Buzz easily. All that hurt he had brought into their home. Always coming around with a twelve-pack or a fifth of Jack. Driving a wedge between Gerry and the rest of the family so that sometimes she would go to her bedroom while they were out on the front porch drinking and weep until she couldn’t weep any more. I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot the deputy. Well…now was the time. She steeled her nerve.

She got up on one knee and readied her rifle. And to think, he had made a pass at Hanna while at Marblehill.

In a moment she saw a figure appear in the glow of the headlights. Through the blur of the rain, the figure resolved into Buzz Fulton. She took aim, exhaled, squeezed the trigger, and fired—but fired just as some mud shifted from under her knee. It wasn’t much, but still enough to make her miss.

Buzz ducked and circled back to his truck in a crouched position. She pumped another round into the chamber and fired at his windshield. If she couldn’t get the man, she would get his truck, damage it as much as she could so he would have a hard time following them. But before she could fire through the front grille, Buzz started firing back. A bullet rocketed through the air toward them and thudded into the mud not five yards away, making a small, lugubrious splash.