CHAPTER 7 #2
He lay back down on the cot. He should try to rest though he knew he wouldn’t be able to.
You were probably lying awake, staring into the darkness. Isn’t that what guilty men do?
It’s what he had been doing. Lying there and thinking about that sarcophagus of mud only yards away.
Was he feeling guilt? Hell, yes. If he’d had Rudzak killed in that prison, he’d never have been free to cause this carnage.
So, yes, the blame was partly his own, and he felt as if that entire mountain were lying on top of him.
As it was lying on top of that orphanage.
He had visited the orphanage many times over the years, and the nuns always had the children sing for him.
He closed his eyes.
He could almost hear them singing. . . .
Mud.
Sheets of rain.
Death.
How long had it been?
Two days? Three?
It didn’t matter.
She had to go on.
Monty had caught the cone. Maybe this one would be alive.
Not likely. She and Monty had found only five survivors. The rest had been dead.
That didn’t mean this one wouldn’t be alive. You had to keep hope alive. Otherwise the ones who waited might never be found.
She staggered on the makeshift bridge across the mud after the dog.
The man wasn’t alive. The pouring rain had freed him from the coffin of mud but not in time. His mouth was wide open in a silent scream.
Monty was whimpering. Too much. Take him down. Get him away from the death.
“Come, boy.” She put a stake in the mud beside the body and marked it with orange flagging tape, then started down.
She could see Logan below, looking up at her, a shovel in his hands.
He was covered in mud like all the rest of the rescue workers trying to dig out the ruins of the village.
He shouldn’t be there. She had caught only brief glimpses of him in the past few days as he moved around the camp, helping in the medical tent, assisting the handlers, besides spending hours digging.
He seemed driven. But she had been vaguely aware of his growing exhaustion, the gauntness of his face, and his worsening limp.
He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was bent over, digging at the mud. But he glanced up as she and Monty passed by him. “Boyd says we’re pulling out tonight,” he told her. “The team hasn’t found a survivor in twelve hours.”
“Is the road open?”
“The army’s built a bridge over the washout.
We got a shipment of food and blankets while you were up there on the search.
There will be a truckload of volunteers here within a few hours.
Not that it will do any good.” His shovel dug viciously into the mud.
“None of it is any good. No matter how hard I try, it’s useless.
I hate it that it’s so goddamn hopeless.
Why can’t we find anyone? Christ, I’ll be glad to get out of here. ”
So would she. It had been an even more heartbreaking search than usual.
The rain stopped and started in a seemingly neverending cycle, keeping them from taking the dogs out, and there had been two other slides since they arrived.
“I have to go up and try one more time. There might be someone alive out there.”
“I’m not arguing.” He didn’t look at her. “At least get some rest first. I know I can’t convince you to be easy on yourself, but Monty looks like he could use it. How’s his wound?”
“Almost entirely healed. Do you think I’d let him work if he wasn’t okay?” Not waiting for an answer, she walked away from him toward the tent the rescue team shared. Logan had no room to talk about being easy on herself when he was staggering around with that bad leg.
Only Hans Kniper was asleep on his cot with his Lab beside him when she went into the tent. She didn’t bother being quiet as she watered and fed Monty. No danger of waking Hans. They were all operating on practically no sleep and fell unconscious when they got the chance to rest.
She washed enough mud off Monty to make him a little more comfortable and then scrubbed her own face.
No use doing anything else when they’d be back in the mud within a few hours.
She lay down and cuddled next to Monty. It was raining again.
She could hear it pounding on the canvas of the tent. God, she wished it would stop.
“Sarah.”
Logan. She came instantly awake.
Logan was kneeling beside her. He nodded at the Asian woman standing in the entrance of the tent. “This is Ming Na. She wanted me to ask one of you to find her baby.”
Sarah felt sick as she looked at the young woman’s desperate expression. “Did you tell her how hard we’ve been trying?”
“She says we’ve been looking in the wrong place for her child. He wasn’t in the village. They were walking down the mountain after visiting Ming Na’s grandparents. A flash flood took him away from her and swept him down the mountain to the creek that runs beside the village.”
“How old is her baby?”
“Two.”
“The chances of his surviving a flash flood are practically nil.”
“She said he did survive. She saw him thrown up on the bank and crawling away. She tried to run after him, but the mudslide came and she couldn’t get over to get him. She heard him crying.”
“It’s been four days,” Sarah whispered. “If he survived the flood, who’s to say he would survive the exposure? You’re grabbing at straws.”
“Hell, yes, I want that baby to be alive.” His lips twisted. “I want a miracle. After these last few days I need a miracle.”
She could see that in his face. She needed a miracle too. You never knew when you’d find one, so you kept trying. “I’ll go take a look.” She got to her knees and put Monty’s halter on. “Ask her if she’ll take me to the place where she heard the baby crying.”
Logan turned to the woman and spoke to her in rapid Taiwanese. She nodded and answered. He turned back to Sarah. “She’ll take us.”
“Us?”
“I’m going,” he said firmly. “I promised her I’d bring back her baby.”
She shook her head.
“I want to do something besides pull corpses from beneath that goddamn mud. I want to find that baby . . . alive.”
She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it.
She understood his desperation and weariness; how many times had she felt the same way?
How many times had she tried to fool Monty into thinking there was life in a sea of death?
“Come if you like. But if you can’t keep up, I’m not going to wait for you. ”
“I’ll keep up.”
“Over there.” Logan pointed over the lake of mud to the rocks on the other side.
“The child was thrown on the bank there?” Sarah asked.
Logan nodded, then moved toward the boards that bridged the mud. “Let’s get the kid.”
“Let Monty and me go first, give him a head start.” She and Monty carefully picked their way across the narrow bridge to the safety of the rocky ground on the other side. She took off the leash and let Monty run down the mountain.
She tried not to look over her shoulder at Logan but couldn’t resist a glance before she started after Monty.
He was okay, she saw with relief. Though God knows how he was keeping his balance on the wet boards with that bum leg.
“Don’t try to hurry. Monty may come back to me a dozen times before he gets the scent.
” She set off after the dog. “If he gets the scent.”
Monty was running around in circles as he tried to pick up the cone. The rain had increased in the last few minutes and she could barely see him.
“Monty’s not picking up anything,” she told Logan when he was beside her. She watched the retriever barrel down the bank.
Logan limped ahead of her to follow Monty. “Let’s go.”
She saw his expression and felt a ripple of shock. He was tense, totally absorbed, completely driven, and desperate.
I want to find this baby alive.
Oh, God, I hope you do, Logan.
Monty wasn’t picking up the scent. He was running around in circles.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Logan’s tone was harsh. “Can’t you do something?”
“He’s doing the best he can.”
Logan drew a deep breath. “Sorry. I know he is.”
Fifteen minutes later Monty barked. He came running back in a delirium of joy and then took off running down the mountain.
“He’s found him.” Quickly following, Logan slid and slipped down the bank. “He’s found him!”
Sarah muttered a prayer as she stumbled after Logan. The rain was so heavy, she could no longer see him or Monty, but they had to be straight ahead. “Logan!”
No answer.
“Logan, where—” Then she saw him.
And she saw Monty standing over a mound of mud beside the creek, whimpering.
“Sweet Jesus, no,” she whispered.
“It may not be the kid.” Logan fell to his knees and clawed desperately at the mud.
“It may not be—” He stopped, staring down at the delicate arm of a child he had uncovered.
“Shit.” He dug frantically until he’d uncovered the still, small body.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He sat there, his shoulders slumped as he gazed down at the baby.
“It’s not fair. He’s only a little kid.”
“One of the later mudslides must have gotten him.” Sarah knelt beside Logan. Poor baby. Poor Ming Na.
She couldn’t move for a few minutes and then she slowly struggled to her feet and got out her flagging tape. “Come on, Logan. We’ve got to get back to Ming Na.”
“What are you doing with that tape?”
“You know what I’m doing. You’ve seen it before. Marking the spot.”
“Not him.” Logan reached out, picked up the little boy, and rose to his feet. “I promised Ming Na I’d bring back her baby. I’m not going to leave him here in the mud.”
“You can’t carry him up that mountain. You barely made—” She stopped as she saw his face. The cords were standing out in his neck, and tears were running down his cheeks. “Can I help?”
“No. I’ll make it.” He started up the mountain. “I promised her.”