As the first gray light of dawn touched the sky Davon eased her cramped legs. She had tucked them under her body in an attempt to keep them reasonably dry and she had failed, but at least they were not lying under a running torrent of water. The wind had dropped with the coming of day; no longer did it how ferociously nor did it fling cascades of water at them, but still the water ran in a muddied flood down the ravine.
It had been a bad night. In their little cave under the great rock they were well protected from the wind; it had roared about them but they were untouched by it. The water, however, was something else. It came from above, slowly at first, and then an increasing rush, pouring over the rock that guarded them in a dirty brown waterfall which splashed with increasing violence at their feet, and carried with it the tree-fallen detritus which littered the ravine above.
As the wind grew in strength the wall of water before their faces was torn and shredded, blowing away in a fine spray across the hillside, and when the wind backed and eddied they were deluged as if someone had thrown a bathful of water into the cave. This happened twelve times per hour with monotonous regularity.
Their shelter was cramped, small---and safe. The walls of the ravine rose sheer on each side and the wind, tearing over the open hillside, sometimes actually sucked the air out of this deft at the height of the storm and left them gasping for breath for the space of two heartbeats. But this did them no harm and indeed helped, because the water also went with the air, giving them momentary respite.
They could either sit with their legs outstretched and have the waterfall pouring over their feet and the danger of bruises or worse as the flood swept down tree limbs and stones, or they could sit on them and get cramps. They alternated between these methods, extending their legs when the cramp became too bad. The water was not too cold, for which Davon was thankful, and she thought hysterically that she was being washed so clean that she would never need to take another shower ever again. The very thought of the hissing spray of water in her bathroom at home made her feel physically ill.
At first they could talk quite comfortably. Cubbins was feeling better for the rum. He said, "We might get a bit wet here, but I think we'll be safe with this rock behind us."
"Won't it move?" asked Mrs. Moore nervously.
"No. It seems to be firmly embedded----in fact, I think it's an outcropping of the bedrock." He looked through the waterfall before him. "And there's a good runoff for the water down there. It won't back up and drown us. All we've got to do is sit here until it's over."
Davon listened to the rising howl of the wind overhead. "It seems as if the whole island will blow away."
Cubbins chuckled weakly. "It didn't in 1911---I see no reason why it should now."
Davon pulled her legs from under the waterfall and tucked them beneath herself. "We've got enough water now---more than enough." She paused. "I wonder how all those people got out of Trois Fourches in the middle of a battle."
"My guess is that Sorel had something to do with it," said Cubbins thoughtfully. "He must have because they're in the Ochoa---his line of communication with the mountains."
"You think Riley Martin told him about the hurricane?"
"I hope so. It'll mean that that young man is alive. But maybe Sorel had other sources of information; perhaps there was a message from the Base, or something like that."
"Yes," she said slowly, and lapsed into silence.
The rainfall increased and the torrent coursing down the ravine became a flood swirling over the top of the big rock. The wind strengthened and now it was that the eddies hurled back water into the cave, to leave them gasping for breath and clutching at the stone around them for fear of being washed away. Mrs. Moore was very frightened and wanted to leave to find a safer place but Davon restrained her.
Cubbins wasn't feeling well. The events of the last two days had been too much for him, and his heart, not too good at the best of times, was starting to act up. He doubted if he could have gone on any longer on their flight from the coast and was grateful for this respite, unpleasant though it was. He thought of Davon; this was a good girl, strong and tough when the need arose and not scared to take a chance. He could tell that young Riley was on her mind, and hoped that both of them would be preserved during this horrible night so that they could meet again and pick up their normal lives. But neither of them would be the same again, not in their approach to the world, and, especially, to each other. He hoped they would find each other again.
As for that damned Moore woman with her eternal nagging moan, he didn't give a damn if she was washed out of the cave there and then. It would at least leave more room and they would be rid of a strength-sapping succubus. He gasped as he was soaked by a solid wall of water and all thought left him save for the one desire for survival.
So the night dragged on, a terror measured in hours, a lukewarm hell of raging wind and blowing water. But the wind died towards morning and the cave became drier, no longer inundated ever few minutes. Davon eased her cramped legs and thought that, incredibly enough, they were going to live. She roused Cubbins, who said, "Yes, the wind is falling. I think we'll be all right."
"My God, I'll be glad to get out of here," said Davon. "But I don't know if I'll be able to stand. The way I feel now I'll have to learn to walk all over again."
"Can we go out?" asked Mrs. Moore with the first animation she'd shown for a long time.
"Not just yet. We'll wait until it's lighter, and the wind will have dropped even more by then." Cubbins hunched his shoulders and peered forward. "I have the idea that it would be easy to get drowned out there, especially stumbling around in the dark."
So they stayed in their cramped shelter until the dim light revealed the sides of the ravine and then they went out into the glorious daylight, first Davon, ducking cautiously through the rapidly flowing curtain of water, then Mrs. Moore.
"And you're not going to stop me," Mrs. Moore's chin quivered with idiotic obduracy. "I think it's bullshit to say that we'll have another storm like the one we've just gone through---things don't happen that way. And there'll be food down there and I'm starving."
She edged away as Davon stepped forward. "And you blame me for everything, I know you do. You're always bullying me and hitting me---you wouldn't do it if I were stronger than you. I think it's disgraceful the way you hit a woman old enough to be your mother! So I'm going---I'm going down to those people down there."
She darted away as Davon made a grab for her and went stumbling down the hill in a clumsy limping gait because of the loss of her shoe. Cubbins called Davon back. "Oh, let the damn bitch go! She's been a bloody pain in the ass all along and I'm glad to see her flouncing off."
Davon halted in mid-step and slowly walked up the hill again. "Do you think she'll be all right?" she asked doubtfully.
"I don't give a shit," said Cubbins tiredly. "She's meant nothing but trouble all along and I don't see why we should get ourselves killed trying to save her ass. We've done what we can for her and we can't do any more." He sat down on a rock and put his head in his hands. "God, but I'm worn out."
Davon bent over him. "Are you all right?"
He lifted his head and gave her a wan smile. "Why, I'm fit as a fiddle, my dear. There's nothing wrong with me but too many years of life. Sitting about in wet clothes isn't too good for a man my age." He looked down the hill. "She's out of sight now. She went in the wrong direction, too."
"What?!"
Cubbins smiled and waved his hand in the direction of Trois Fourches. "The St. Simon road is over there; it leaves Trois Fourches and sticks to the upper slopes of the Ochoa Valley before it climbs over to join the coastal road. If we were leaving I would suggest going that way----I don't think that road would be flooded."
"But you don't think we should leave," Davon said in a flat statement.
"I don't. I fear we're going to have more wind. We've found a safe place here and we might as well stick to it as long as we're not wholly sure. If the wind doesn't blow up in another 3 or 4 hours then it'll be safe to move."191Please respect copyright.PENANAqeRXxueYc7
"All right---we'll stay," said Davon. She moved over and looked down into the ravine at the smooth sheet of water flowing over the big rock. The cave was totally hidden behind that watery curtain. She laughed and turned back to Cubbins. "There's one good thing---we'll have a lot more room now that that fat bitch has left us!"
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