Part 5
The cut on Bramble’s shoulder was superficial. Caleb cleaned it, secured her inside the inner compartment, and tested both latches with his full weight.
Then he called Eli.
The call failed. Caleb sent a message instead.
June loose after tree hit gate. Searching from south side. If I don’t contact you in ten minutes, call rescue.
For several seconds the message remained pending. Then it showed as delivered.
Caleb put on a reflective rain shell and the climbing harness he had used during the roof repairs. He packed Eli’s static rope, two webbing slings, locking carabiners, a separate training line, a first-aid pouch, and a handheld radio.
He clipped leads onto the dogs and followed the damaged fence from the stable side.
Scout found June’s trail beside the gate. Rain had blurred the hoofprints, but pale wool clung to a splintered post farther ahead.
The trail followed the southern edge of the runoff channel before curving toward the exclusion zone. Caleb stayed on the higher ground, testing each step and keeping the dogs close.
A lamb bleated below them.
June stood on a shelf of wet soil beyond a cluster of cedars. A fresh opening had formed near the outer edge of the expanded exclusion zone, farther south than the old map showed any passage. Water streamed past the lamb’s hooves and disappeared into blackness.
Caleb stopped well uphill from it.
He called Eli again. Nothing connected.
Scout looked from June to the southern trail. Caleb had already sent the message, but the new opening changed the situation. He would not approach it until someone else knew exactly where he was.
Caleb removed Scout’s lead.
“Find Eli.”
Scout hesitated, distracted by June’s bleating.
Caleb turned him toward the lower trail. “Scout. Find Eli.”
The dog ran south and disappeared between the trees.
Caleb wrapped one webbing sling twice around the trunk of a mature cedar and tested it with his full weight. He clipped Flint to the uphill side on a short lead, beyond the softened ground.
A second sling secured Maple independently to the same tree. Her longer lead allowed her to remain several feet closer to Caleb without attaching her weight to his body.
He clipped the static rope through the main anchor, locked it to the front of his climbing harness, and checked the connection twice. Only then did he move downslope.
June tried to turn. Dirt slid from beneath her rear hooves.
“Easy.”
A direct approach would put his full weight over the void. Caleb remained above the visible break, lay flat to distribute his weight, and took out the separate training line.
He formed a broad loop in one end. The first throw fell short. The second landed across June’s chest.
She stepped through the loop while trying to escape it. Caleb drew the line behind her front legs and clipped his end through the anchor rope so a sudden pull would not depend entirely on his grip.
The ground shifted beneath his left forearm.
Caleb began moving backward.
A crack opened between him and the cedar. The bank dropped before he could clear it, folding into the old ventilation chamber beneath the surface.
The static line snapped tight against his harness and slowed his fall. He still slid nearly ten feet through mud and broken timber before his shoulder struck a wall of packed earth.
A rotted support dropped across his lower left leg. The beam trapped his ankle against the slope.
The collapse spread farther uphill than the opening had suggested. The outer shelf beneath Maple broke away, carrying her several feet down the bank before her independent line caught against the cedar.
Flint remained above on firm ground, barking into the rain.
“Maple. Here.”
Maple scrambled upright and crossed the short distance to Caleb. Her line remained taut but gave her enough reach to press against his shoulder.
Caleb checked himself. His breathing was clear. He could move both arms. His ankle hurt sharply, but the boot remained straight and he could feel his toes.
The timber shifted when he tried to draw his leg free. Dirt poured from the wall.
He stopped.
Every instinct urged him to work the problem before anyone else arrived. Find leverage. Move the beam. Climb the rope. Get himself out.
The chamber answered each movement by shedding more soil.
Maple touched her muzzle to his wrist. June bleated from the opposite shelf, still held by the anchored training line.
Caleb raised the radio toward the opening.
“County rescue, this is Caleb Mercer at the north slope collapse.”
Static swallowed the reply, if there was one.
He switched his headlamp to its emergency flash. White light passed over old stone, black water, and squared timbers softened by decades underground.
Above him, Flint continued barking in measured bursts.
Caleb lay back against the slope. Scout was beyond his sight now, somewhere between the hill and Eli’s farm. Caleb could no longer guide him or correct a wrong turn.
He looked at the beam across his leg. The water gathering near his boot had reached the sole.
He could try to lift the timber. He might gain enough space to pull free before the wall collapsed.
Maple pressed closer when he shifted.
Caleb remembered Eli beside the truck.
Not after you’ve decided you can handle it.
He let the beam remain where it was.
June slipped. Her front knees struck the shelf, and loose soil poured beneath her body.
The training line tightened against the anchor above. Caleb steadied it with his right hand, keeping the loop behind the lamb’s front legs.
“Be angry,” he told her. “Just stay angry up there.”
Maple lay beside his shoulder. Whenever he grew too still, she touched his wrist with her nose.
Scout reached the fallen pine below the cabin. The road smelled of torn roots, rain, and the tires of Eli’s pickup.
The trunk blocked the usual route. Scout ran to one side, found a tangle of branches, and returned.
Then he left the road.
Eli had walked a narrower trail during weeks of repairs, carrying tools uphill when the pickup could not pass. His scent remained in the wet brush, mixed with livestock, wood smoke, and the biscuits he kept in his right jacket pocket.
Scout followed it downslope.
At the lower farm, Eli had already set an eight-minute timer after receiving Caleb’s message. At eight minutes, he called. At nine, he put on his rain gear.
At ten, he contacted county emergency services and reported the old workings, the storm, and Caleb’s last known route.
He was opening his front door when something struck it from outside.
Scout barked, scratched once, then ran several yards toward the hill. He returned and seized the loose fabric at Eli’s knee without biting down.
“I’m coming,” Eli said. “Show me.”
Eli took a headlamp, radio, and emergency blanket. He did not attempt the rescue alone. The county team was approaching by all-terrain vehicles from the east while he followed Scout up the foot trail.
Below the surface, Caleb flexed his fingers to keep them warm.
“Flint’s above,” he said. “Scout’s moving. Eli got the message.”
Maple listened as if each statement were a command.
“You’re here.”
Her muzzle pressed against his hand.
A light appeared through the rain above. Then another.
Flint’s barking quickened.
“Caleb!” Eli’s voice carried down through the opening. “You below me?”
“Pinned on the west side. Maple and June are down here. Flint’s secured above.”
“Scout found me.”
Caleb closed his eyes for one second.
A moment later, red and white rescue lights moved between the trees…
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