Silent Creed

10

Once Creed’s dogs alerted he pulled them aside, making way for the experts to do their job, whether it was a forensic team or, in this case, a rescue crew. He tried never to blur the line of where his job ended and their job began. It was important that his dogs knew, too.

As Creed led Bolo away, he tossed him his rope toy, careful to pitch it for a catch that didn’t require the big dog to jump. Strings of saliva flew from his mouth as he caught it. Bolo had been drooling because of the wait, even with the distraction of the muffled dog barks.

Creed hated delaying rewards, but false alerts were always a concern. Whether the people in the vehicle were dead or alive, Bolo had found them despite hundreds of pounds of mangled metal and layers of mud. He deserved his reward. Creed would let him prance around with it for a while before they started back to the staging area.

He guided Bolo to a sloped area above the rescue where the ground felt solid. Closer to the wall he could smell the musty earth. In the debris underfoot he noticed a mixture of broken bricks and splintered branches. Pieces of glass sparkled in the gray muck. Already he was concerned about Bolo’s paws.

Vance directed a mini Bobcat excavator instead of the larger Caterpillar Creed had seen close to the staging area. He could hear Vance telling his men to be careful as he waved to the machine operator. Creed guessed they’d try to use the tooth bucket to dig around the vehicle or attach and lift. Either process could trigger another slide.

Creed called to Bolo, his palm up, and the dog surrendered his toy without hesitation. He’d barely stuffed it in his pocket when Bolo’s nose started working. Before Creed could stop him the dog moved along the wall of dirt, nose in the air, whiskers twitching, tail straight out. No doubt this entire area was slathered with scent, running with the mud and debris as it rolled and slid down the slope. Creed would need to pull him off. They could start there again later. That’s exactly what he was thinking when he heard the crack.

At first Creed thought the sound might have been an echo from the Bobcat’s bucket, metal scraping the metal of the vehicle. But even as he glanced back he knew it had come from above.

“Bolo, go!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, but the dog hesitated, sensing danger. His nose was still working. Instinct overrode the unfamiliar command.

Precious seconds were lost as Creed’s feet slid. He stopped himself, not wanting his movement to contribute to destabilizing the surroundings. At least not until his dog was out of there. It didn’t matter. Dirt began to rain down. He yanked the rope toy out of his pocket. He’d have to depend on Bolo’s other instinct.

Toy crazy! Thank God!

Now he had the dog’s attention. Creed tossed the twisted rope, the heavy knots at both ends sending it flying. He flung it as hard and as far as he could, a lateral throw, making the dog run diagonally and not in front of where the slide would likely go.

Even that simple toss threatened to upend him. Creed caught his balance and tried to make his feet gain traction as he heard the rumble grow. He felt the vibration. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the slab behind him start to fracture. Chunks fell away, crumbling all around him. A full-out sprint was impossible. Now that he wanted to move — needed to move — his boots became skates, sliding one second, the next jamming toes against rocks and almost sending him sprawling.

He felt pressure against his back. Debris smacked his helmet. There was nothing to grab on to. The impact knocked him off his feet and onto his back. Creed was used to swimming in the Gulf. An excellent swimmer, he knew to take in air with the breaking of the waves and he knew when to hold his breath. But there was no break. A gush of rapids swept him under. Only this wasn’t water. The thick sludge overtook him, wrapped around him, sending him careening so fast it was an effort to control his arms and legs.

He ducked his head and pulled his body into a tight ball. Chin to his chest. Knees curled up. Arms crisscrossed with hands fisted, holding on to the front of his jacket. Nose buried in the crook of his arm.

Rolling, tumbling, speeding too fast. The pull of gravity turned him into just another piece of debris, battering him against the rest. Splintered branches poked him in the sides. Rocks slammed into his helmet. Sharp objects shredded his clothes and scraped his skin.

The force yanked at him, attempting to peel his limbs away even as it continued to send him spiraling downhill. Yet he stayed curled and tucked as best he could, holding on. He no longer knew which way was up. There was no sky, only a heavy, thick blur of speckled gray that swallowed all light. He waited for the slide to slow down. Waited for it to stop. Waited to hit the bottom.

Then suddenly it stopped. He stopped.