Adamant Spirits

Swept Away-4

I coughed uncomfortably. “Parents are funny like that, aren’t they?”

“Parents are. Mine just care, a lot, about me, I think.” Xavier rubbed his eyes, before shifting as if he was preparing to go to bed.

I fiddled with my fork in the boiling apple crisp goo. “What’s the deal with Callum?”

Xavier paused, staring toward the river before he answered. “Callum blames your dad for the collapse of his family.”

“What? How?”

“Well,” he threaded his hair between his fingers, pulling several tufts outward. “After Callum’s dad lost his job at your dad’s company, several rumors were spread about him, which Callum believes stemmed directly from your dad, though there was no solid evidence for it. The rumors were false. But it didn’t matter. No one would hire him. He tried everything before he gave up.”

Xavier cleared his throat. “When he kept failing, he left.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. He abandoned Callum and his four sisters. Just disappeared.”

“Oh...”

“It’s not okay that Callum treats you the way he does. He should be kind. But he was made the man of the house when he was fourteen years old. His mom crumpled, couldn’t keep a job herself. Callum has worked ever since. And … the reputation of his father follows him. He is already knocked down, but life just keeps kicking him.” He shifted his weight. “Dad gives him part-time work at the office, but there’s not enough for him to do there, so he holds, like, three jobs. He’s rough around the edges, but he isn’t a bad guy.”

I frowned into my dessert, uncomfortable with my previous harsh judgments about Callum, but also the implication my father could have been responsible for his dad’s failed career. Could my father have slandered and ruined him? I couldn’t believe it. Father wasn’t perfect, but if those things were true then he seemed, well … cruel.

“I’m sure Father wouldn’t have done that. It must have been someone else. Father is tough, but he’d never destroy someone else’s life.”

Xavier studied my face for some time before he responded. “I don't have evidence either way.”

“And that’s a horrible story. How could someone leave his family? Why didn’t his mother get a job? Did Callum ever ask my father directly?” I felt myself getting defensive. An angry tear pricked at the corner of my eye.

“I’m not sure of the details,” Xavier hedged. “What I do know is that Callum is good, and hardworking, and has a very large chip on his shoulder. You have been kind, and more patient with him than most. I don’t know your Father, Titania, not personally. But I am getting to know you. Regardless of our father’s actions, we are each responsible for our own character. It’s clear to me that you have a good one.”

My defenses deflated. I didn’t have evidence that my Father was innocent. I could not voice the words, but Father had always been competitive, easily angered, and single-minded. I didn’t want to think that slandering another adult was even possible for him. But still, I wondered. Seeming to sense my disquiet, Xavier turned toward his tent. “I want you to know, I don’t think that you are your father. Or that his choices affect your value.” He sucked in a breath. “Maybe that came out wrong. What I mean is, I’m grateful you haven’t lost your temper on Callum or hog-tied him with your Minera talents.”

I cough-laughed as I was mid-bite. “No problem, I’ll continue to do my best.” His brows furrowed some but he didn’t comment. I continued. “Thank you for dinner, again. It really was all as delicious as promised.”

His smile warmed me more than the apple crisp. “You’re welcome. I think I’ll turn in. Maybe we could head up to the dam early, see what else we can find or what you can sense.”

“I’d like to try to repair the lead caulking if I can, before Tim comes back and sees me fixing it.”

He nodded and went into his tent, taking all the warmth with him. The comforting night turned desolate and cold with every click of his zipper. Shivering, I doused the flames. In the darkness, I lingered for a bit longer. Aching. Shivering. From more than just the cold. Our conversation crashed like stormy waves on the shore of my mind, crashing their uncomfortable truths against my longstanding beliefs. Callum. Mom. Parental Love. Cancer. Xavier. One topic after the next. Relentless and heady and pounding. Crick by crack, the foundations of my securities—perhaps even my identity—were wavering and unsteady. I felt adrift at sea. I was always so sure of things. What was going on with me?

A cacophonous boom shattered the morning air. I bolted up in my sleeping bag, and dashed out of the tent. I scoured uphill, looking for the smoking wreckage of whatever plane had hit the mountain. My watch read 6:07 a.m. Xavier was pulling his white t-shirt over his head as he fell out of the opening of his tent.

“What the heck was that?”

My eyes stripped the treetops, searching. “It sounded like a plane crash. But what is that roaring? A jet? It sounded like it came from up there.”

“If it was a crash, maybe there are survivors.”

“I don’t see any smoke…”

Regardless, we stomped into our boots and snatched our packs and water, barely leaving the tents before hearing a rumbling roar shake the air. Xavier and I made eye contact for a second before looking toward the twisting walking path. Up the mountain, far too close, an ancient towering pine tree suddenly heaved skyward with an ear-splitting crack before shooting forward like a spear. Splashes of water glittered as they shot upward, caught in the early morning light.

My blood ran cold. This was not a plane crash.

“Flood!” Xavier shouted. “Run! It’s a flash flood!”

We pelted up the hill from the campsite, moving as far from the river as possible. But the hillside topsoil was unstable, and we struggled, repeatedly slipping on the shale and loose rock. We had barely made it ten feet when a massive wall of water careened around the corner of the river upstream from us. Xavier grabbed the shoulder of my bag and pulled me up the hill. The screaming sound vibrated through my chest as thick, brown water boiled and churned down the hill. It filled the small river in an instant, widening and ripping out a new wide river basin. Massive trees appeared from nowhere, erupting like narwal tusks out of the flood, piercing the early morning sky. The ground trembled as the boulders thundered down the canyon, caught in the flood. With a rip, our tents were swept away. The hill and large rocky creek had transformed into a mass of boiling chalky brown water. We were above the lip of the water, standing on what was now an embankment. We backed away as the water continued rising.

“Xavier, we have to contact Tim.”

“Right.” Xavier grabbed his radio. “Tim, come in. Calling Tim Martin. There is flooding from Lawn Lake. Raging River is flooded. Evacuate. Flash flood. Tim, come in.”

Silence.

“Tim, come in. Lawn Lake—”

And then, beneath our feet, the edge of the mountain gave way.

Xavier and I plunged into the swirling, icy waters. A boulder slammed into my leg, nearly ripping me toward the center of the river, but Xavier grabbed my wrist and pulled me against his chest. The deeper water was speeding like a riptide, pulling us under, dragging us toward the dangerous center. The river repeatedly plunged us below the surface, and we narrowly dodged spears of trees that had been ripped by the roots or avoided being crushed by boulders that should have been too heavy to move.

We were going to die.

Our faces rose above the surface; we gasped for air, struggling with the thick mud that coated us. A round tube of metal sliced my finger, but though it cost me a gulp of water, I dove to grab for it. Almost ripping myself out of Xavier’s grasp, I snatched a twelve-foot metal tube. The gifting surged from my chest, pouring out to my fingertips where the metal molded and bent around our torsos – half binding us together, half cage to protect us. Strips of rebar flashed by and I whipped as many as I could around us, supporting the tubing. I was just in time.

Xavier and I kicked and swirled in the water, at times losing track of which way was up. We surfaced again, and a massive wave slammed us into a rocky edge of the shore. Our new armor absorbed the blow allowing Xavier to snatch an exposed root. He cried out as the water surged and whipped us downstream, but the collapsed edge on the other side had caused a circular eddy. We tucked back in a small enclave.

Xavier yelled out again as his grasp on the root began slipping. I ripped the rebar away from our cage and molded it like a net, struggling against the weight of water, but finally able to spear it forward. Now, it was braced to deflect and protect us from debris, while holding us tightly together against the shore edge. I only left a single circle of metal from the tube, pulling the rest of the tubing and weaving it frantically within the framework of the stakes. This would have to work for now; I had run out of supplies.

Xavier groaned as he let go of the root and sagged deeper into the water. My arms caught under his shoulders. His weight almost submerged me before he rallied and pushed back against the shore.

“Xavier, are you okay?”

He grunted with a grimace before tilting his chin behind me. “The wall beside us is too high to climb.”

I glanced up. “What about the tree?”

“No holds to get there.”

“If I can get some more metal…”

“Titania, it’s not worth reaching out there. You’ll lose your hand or your life.”

The muddy floor of our tiny three-by-three space shifted beneath us as more soil washed away. I clung to Xavier. His right arm still held me tightly, protecting me. I glanced over to see his left arm drifting aimlessly. It looked like a rag in the water.

“Your arm…”

“Yeah. It’s a little torn. I’ll get a new one.”

“What?”

I looked up into his half-grimace, half-smiling face. Tears brimmed on my lids, and I struggled to smile back. “You’re an idiot.” I tucked my forehead to his chest.

“Yeah, I am.”

A tear mixed with the silt of the river as the weight of hopelessness settled around me. No one knew where we were. No one had heard our call on the radio. We were alone, and injured, and the water kept coming. A massive shiver rippled through Xavier. The countdown to hypothermia had begun.

All those years of school. All the plans I had made. Everything was going to end in my muddy, frozen death. And furthermore, what use are plans if you hate them and hate yourself for following them? Or … if you can’t trust the man who made them for you?

Unwittingly, I had become a puppet on the strings of my parents, especially, my father. Every move I made, I made at his beckoning. Every choice I made was the choice I thought he would want me to. I hadn’t realized how hollow I had become, or how desolate and alone I had felt.

“Actually, I’m the idiot.”

“Oh, no. I think the cold is getting to your brain,” Xavier chuckled.

“No, seriously. I am so stupid. How have I never seen it before? I’m a ragdoll!”

His tired laugh stopped, and he peered at me thoughtfully. “Titania, what are you even saying?”

We were going to die. But, I realized, I already felt dead. I wanted someone to know the truth. “I live a prescribed life. Stepping when I’m told to step, going where I’m told to go. Constantly worried about how to please other people. I’m good at stuff, so I thought it was okay, but inside, I’m dead. I’m a freaking dress-up doll. And I’m sick of it.” Years of held back rants now poured out of me. I pointed my finger at the sky. “I don’t like pinchy heels. Nor silk. I don’t like being under the microscope, or on display. Never real, never me. I’m just pretending. And I don’t like saying the right thing all the time. Furthermore,” I yelled, “I don’t want to do nuclear physics.”