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