Page 53 of Stormy Ride

Harlan was a logical kid, and I was grateful for that. He never asked a stupid question because he was way smarter than that.

With Max and Sarge running ahead, we followed the skid marks the house left behind in its wake. Trees had been uprooted and bushes tossed aside as the house, pushed by the wall of mud, gained momentum.

When we worked our way lower and could see a dense stand of evergreens several hundred feet below us, I had a glimmer of hope for Walt.

“If we can get down to those trees without killing ourselves, the house might’ve caught purchase there.”

“Looks pretty slick, Travis, and there ain’t a fuckin thing to hold onto between here and there.”

“We’ll have to climb up from the bottom.”

“Yeah, I can see that being the way to go. We’ll go down Zeke’s driveway and cut through when we get to the start of the trees.”

“Yep. The dogs are barking their heads off at something, so maybe they have Walt.”

“Be a miracle if the old guy ain’t dead,” said Harlan. “His own fucking house could’ve flattened him.”

“That’s a fact. Let’s get to him as fast as we can.”

“Where the hell are the fucking firemen?” asked Harlan.

“They’ve gotta come from Cut Bank.”

We slipped and slid and skidded our way through the mud as we made our way back to Zeke’s driveway. Once our boots were gripping on traces of gravel that remained on the shoulder, we were able to run until we got even with the start of the evergreens.

“Let’s cut through here. The trees will help with the fuckin mud situation.”

Tramping through the trees it was definitely drier and easier to run. The dogs were ahead of us, and they were still barking to tell me they found something.

“They’ll keep barking until I come.”

“They ain’t moving,” said Harlan. “The barking is coming from one spot.”

Another hundred yards and I saw lumber—broken boards and the chunk of a roof with shingles attached. “Walt, can you hear me?”

“The rain is so fuckin loud,” hollered Harlan.

We kept going and a bit deeper into the trees, Max came running back to me bouncing and barking and wanting me to hurry up.

“Did you find him, Max? Good boy.”

Following Max, it wasn’t far to the chunk of the house that Walt was in. He was pretty bashed up and there was a dresser pinning him down.

“Let’s get that off of him.”

Harlan hoisted the pine dresser off of Walt on his own and pushed it aside.

Walt moaned once the dresser was removed, and I wondered if we should have left it until the medics came. He was breathing a little funny.

“See if you can run down far enough that the firemen can see you from the road. Wave them up here. I’ll look for something we can drag Walt out on.”

By the time Harlan came back and said the fire truck had just got there, I had Walt lying on the mattress off his bed.

“Yeah, you got him on the mattress. That will work,” said Harlan. “We got no rope, or we could hook the mattress to one of the dogs.”

“I’ll drag him, and you push if we get stuck. Let’s try it. Where are the firemen?”

“That way.” He pointed. “They’re coming straight up the hill from the road.”

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