Next Time

 He was soaked through the bone, his coat long since becoming ineffective. His voice had been shot for an hour, now, and yet he still called her name, hoping it would be carried to her. It was instantly eaten, deadened by forces far behind his control.

A hand clamped his shoulder, and he spun to see his neighbor, and his friend, standing there. Her coat had long since become useless useless, too, and her long hair whipped at her face like a nine-tail. She had to shout just to be heard, despite her own voice being rough. “There's nothing more we can do! This is dangerous!”

He looked away from her and to the ruined mountainside before them. The trees were now nothing but broken twigs, half eaten by the earth itself. Even the massive oak that had once held the tree house they always called their safe place was nothing more than a pile of soaked matchsticks. They had dug out what they could, yet found no sign of her. He felt his throat tighten, and he let out a broken breath that sprayed droplets of water from his mouth. “She's gotta be here somewhere!”

“And so does all this water! If that hill gives again, we're done for!”

“What if she's hurt?! What if she needs help?!”

“We can't help her if we're dead!”

“So, what, I go home and sit on my ass while my sister may lay dying under five tons of mud?!”

“If she's that far down, then she's already dead!” She huffed hard enough that her shoulders actually sank. “I want to find he, too! But I don't want anything to happen to you in the process! When it's clear, we can get a full look! Come on back to my place for now!”

His shoulders quivered, and heaved. She took one of them in a firm, but not unkind grip, leading him back towards the road where her truck was parked. The slope back up to the vehicle was slick, and the mud gave under their every step. But, with enough careful perseverance, they found blacktop once more.

Sam made sure Joey was in the passenger seat of the car and buckled up before going around and getting into the driver's seat. The small stack of towels lay under the first aid kit on the back beck, and she let the kit fall to the floor so she could pull the towels to them. She shoved one into her silent friend's lap, and draped a second over her own long, wet hair. The engine whined to life, and she pulled back onto the street just as the earth shook once more.

She slammed her petal down to the metal, but the slide missed the road. She still didn't slow down until they were out of the canyon roads and back into the meadow. Houses clustered together strangely here, and she rounded a twisting road that eventually took her straight to their places, and up her long driveway.

When the engine was killed, they both sat, watching water flow down the windshield. Neither even moved to unbuckle themselves. The beating against the truck didn't even pull them from their tense silence.

“Joey, why did Rachel go to the tree house?”

He didn't answer. The silence stretched on, as though it had never been broken.

Sam put her head back against the car seat and sighed heavily. “It's not like her. I came at your call, out into this shit weather because she went to the tree house while God is taking a piss on us. And you won't even tell me why she went.” She turned the truck key the rest of the way backwards and yanked it roughly out of the ignition.

“Because I told her to,” Joey said thickly. His eyes burned red, and tears dropped into his lap, where the towel still sat, unused.

Sam threw herself back against the seat once more, looking at him. “What, did you leave your Switch there?” she asked rudely. “Joey, I'm sorry, but I need you to start from the beginning.”

He sobbed.

“Listen, I get it. This is hard enough without me being an ass. But it's because when we walk in that door, we are calling search and rescue. And I'm going to do the talking so you only have to live through this once. So,” she casually grabbed a pack of Camels out of its place in the cup holder and put one between her lips. She removed a second one and held it out to Joey.

“I don't smoke.”

“I know, but pick that apart instead of your fingernails. I put up with a lot in this truck, but your half moons are too much for me to take.” She had already forced it into his hand before lighting her own. The smoke hung around them, and for once, Joey didn't complain of the smell. Sam was keeping an eye on his hands, which ere already slightly bloody from his picking habit.

“She's been popping that Xanax the doctor gave her. She goes through a refill every two weeks, and the doctor doesn't seem to be noticing. When the storm started, I watched her knock back five in one go. I finally couldn't be silent about it. So I asked if that wasn't too many. She got defensive. I got angry.... I finally told her that if she wanted to pop them she could sleep in the tree house. And she left.”

Sam let out a long breath of smoke, chewing all this over in her head. “Very well handled,” she said sarcastically. But she didn't seem mad. She never seemed mad. Just brutally honest without caring about your feelings in the matter. Joey knew better than to expect any differently.

They had seen the landslide from here, felt the earth tremble with the impact. And then Joey had come to her door, shouting that Rachel had been in the canyon. Sam had just grabbed the towels and first aid kit before speeding them along to try and look. But emergency services had told her to get them out of there until it all passed. Now, they sat with no answers.

“Any point trying her cell?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Right to voicemail.”

“Are you positive she went to the tree house?”

“Where else would she go?”

Sam sighed again. “I don't know. But let's contact everyone. Anyone she could have gone to. You start texting people while I call search and rescue teams to find out our next plan. Come on. Dry clothes first, then we get to work.”

Joey nodded numbly and let the cigarette in his hands fall apart the rest of the way and sprinkle the other litter on the truck floor before they undid any drying they had accomplished to make the twenty feet climb to the house.

Sam let Joey clean himself up first, giving him some of her pajamas to wear while his clothes dried. She had changed in her room and dried her hair a bit before grabbing her laptop and a cell phone charger and tossing them all onto the couch, followed by herself.

The windows shook, and small objects were being swept into the side of the house. She took a long breath, opened her laptop, and went looking for numbers to call. When Joey got out of the shower, she had a short list made up of emergency services. She went to clean up the rest of the way while Joey went hunting for all of Rachel's contacts on social media.

Sam came back with her long hair tied behind her head. “Don't turn on power in the bathroom.”

“Please, get your wiring fixed.”

“Sure, if you pay for it. Anyone seen her?” She sat down heavily on the end of the couch next to him.

“Well, Mason saw her Jeep going by his house. Said she parked, as if she'd come in, then drove away without getting out of the car.”

“Isn't Mason a notorious liar?”

“Yeah, I had that thought, too,” Joey sighed heavily.

“Who else lives on the edge of the grid system?” The streets all aligned when you went closer to the mass living area on the edge of the metro area.

“Skye?”

“They haven't spoken in two years. But text her, I guess?” Sam said.

“I messaged her, but no reply yet.”

Sam grabbed her phone and notebook and called the first of many numbers. She was met with the same thing with every call. They were sort of shocked and horrified they had rushed out like that, and said nothing could be done until the skies deemed necessary.

And so they sat, taking turns on what was on the TV, as though Rachel had just went to get take-out. They kept the laptop and phone plugged in, volume to full, waiting for a notification they didn't think they would get.

They got up and moved around three hours later. Not because they were stiff, but because the windows were all starting to leak, and they had to line what they could with every towel in the house.

When they finished the task, Joey's phone blared, and he basically dove to answer. “Hullo?” He went pale and paid close attention. Same watched intently. “Yes, I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you. Bye.” He hung up, seeming to chew over the news. Finally, he looked to Sam. “She's at Swedish Hospital. The edge of the slide got the road down the way, half burying the Jeep. Nothing life threatening, but it is enough to keep. But, take a guess.”

“Wait for the weay-mey-mey,” she said in a high pitched voice, picking a fresh comedy show to keep on in the background. “Well, we know where she is, and we know she's alive. That will just have to be good enough for now.”

It was five hours later. When they entered the hospital, their ears popped and adjusted to the silence. The lady at the desk checked Ids, gave them stickers, and sent them in to a room. When they first entered, they each sucked in a long breath. She was hidden under bandages and gauze with a long gash going across her face.

Sam dropped her backpack by a chair and sat. Joey eased himself down on the edge of the bed. Rachel was scarred, and beaten, but safe. Somehow safe. One eye opened, the other hidden behind dressing. “The tree house was wet,” she croaked in a broken whisper.

Joey leaned down to her around the shoulders carefully. “Next time, I promise not to kick you out, but hear you out.”

“I'll hold you to that,” she warned. She turned her head tenderly. “He dragged you into, too?” she asked Sam.

“Yeah, y'all owe me an ounce of weed and a tank of gas.” But she smiled. “But get better first so I can share the weed with you.”

Rachel smiled faintly. “Love you, too.”