“Blake?”

“I’m okay.” His voice was breathy and tight.

He was doing pretty good for a city kid. Hell, any kid.

“Harper’s out there and she’s going to get us out of here,” Flann said. “Just don’t move around too much, and do everything she says. No questions, just do it.”

“What about the chicks?” Margie asked.

Flann would have shaken her head if she’d been able to. Had to love her. “That’s a question.”

“Yeah, but for information purposes only,” Margie said.

“I’ve got them,” Blake said. “The box is still in my arms, and it’s not crushed. I can hear them cheeping.”

“Good job,” Margie said. “We can set them up in the kitchen when we get out.”

Flann grinned. Margie was a rock. Someday, she’d be the matriarch of the coming Rivers generations.

“What about the kittens?” Blake said.

“My bet is they burrowed down in the hay,” Flann said. “We’ll look for them once we get this place secure.”

A rumbling roar grew closer, and Blake gasped. “Is that another one coming?”

“That,” Flann said with a wave of relief, “is an ATV. The cavalry has arrived.”

*

Abby clutched the roll bar on the ATV as Harper maneuvered over and around fallen branches, boards, and uprooted fence posts behind the barn. Abby recoiled at the scope of the wreckage. The back half of the barn had caved in. Only two uprights and one beam about halfway to where the roof had been remained standing intact. Piles of slate, tin, and other rubble from the collapsed portions of the roof filled the interior. Miraculously, the new chicken coop remained unscathed.

Blake, Margie, and Flann were somewhere beneath that horrible devastation. How were they ever going to get to them? If they’d been in Manhattan, dozens of emergency responders with all sorts of equipment would already be on scene. Here there were no flashing lights, no sirens, no one else at all.

“It looks like a giant heap of pick-up sticks,” Abby said.

“And if we pull on the wrong one,” Harper said darkly, “we’ll bring the rest of the pile down.”

“I guess a crane is out of the question.”

“Even if we could get a backhoe in here, I don’t think we want to leave them in there for days, and that’s how long it would be. Besides, the debris is going to shift. Right now they’re not injured, and we want to keep it that way.”

“You’re right.” Abby couldn’t imagine standing around doing nothing while Blake and the others were trapped inside. She had to trust that Flann had somehow kept them all safe. And she had to trust Harper to get to them. “Where do we start?”

“We find the shortest way in to them and then we can clear a tunnel so they can crawl out without shifting everything above them. If I know Flann, she’s got them close to that upright.”

Harper backed the Rhino over a mound of torn-up pasture and torn tree limbs to within a few yards of the barn. The foot-square hand-hewn post formed the center of a teepee of fallen beams, shattered slate, and splintered clapboards reaching twenty feet high. Flann and the kids were somewhere at the bottom of the rubble. Abby jumped down and vaulted over piles of debris, skidding to a stop at the edge of the wreckage. “Blake? Can you hear me?”

“Mom,” Blake called back. “We’re here!”

The sound of his voice stilled the last remnants of panic. She knew what to do in a crisis—she’d spent her life training for them. She also knew how to work in a team when she didn’t know as much as her colleagues. She looked over at Harper. “They don’t seem very far away.”

“Good.” Harper tossed her a pair of leather work gloves, crouched down, and switched on a big utility light. “Flann? What’s the situation?”

“I’m pinned down. Feels like a big beam. The kids are closer to the upright. Get them first.”

“Can you see light anywhere?” Harper called, shining the beam over the jumble of wood and stone.

“No,” Flann called.

“Wait,” Blake said. “I think—”

Harper played her light again over the same area, more slowly. “Now?”

“Yes,” Blake shouted. “I can see it.”

Harper retraced the same course even more slowly. “Call out as soon as you—”

“Now,” Blake and Margie yelled simultaneously.

Abby’s heart lifted. They were there, so close. “We’re coming to get you.”

“Be careful,” Flann yelled. “We don’t need the two of you getting buried too.”

Harper muttered, “Always has to be giving the orders.”

“Thank God she was with them.” Abby kept seeing Flann forcing her way through the wind and flying debris toward the barn while she scurried toward the safety of the cellar. Flann had been right to force her inside—she wouldn’t have known how to keep the kids safe. “Let’s get them out.”

Harper pointed to the base of the pile. “We start at the periphery and work our way in. Slowly and carefully, we’ll make a pathway toward the spot where Blake saw the light. One board at a time, move it aside, don’t pull out anything that’s stuck underneath. Only things that look free. This is not the time to hurry.”

“I understand.” Abby tugged on the gloves, just as she did when preparing for the arrival of a trauma patient in the ER. No matter what was coming, no matter what she needed to do, she’d do it. She didn’t think about time, or how much was passing. She didn’t let the cold or the pain from bruised shins, sore shoulders, or aching muscles distract her. She forced herself to go slow, lifting broken tree limbs, splintered boards, and sheets of crumpled tin, one piece at a time. Harper worked silently beside her, bracing the sides of the emerging tunnel with chunks of wood as they slowly made their way toward the upright.

“How are you doing?” Harper called when they’d cleared an area three feet wide and five feet long.

“Your light is brighter,” Margie called back.

“Good. Don’t try to move anything from your side until we tell you to.”

A sharp creaking sound emanated from somewhere inside the building and a shower of slate cascaded off the collapsed roof. Harper grabbed Abby and pulled her back. Stone splintered around them, and the building shuddered. Rock chips flew, several scoring Abby’s bare legs. She gasped, waiting for the pile in front of them to rain down on the kids and Flann. The upright shuddered but nothing shifted.

“Everybody all right?” Harper called.

“It’s getting a little tight in here,” Flann called back. “It sounds like you’re only a few feet away. I’d make haste.”

Harper smiled grimly and yelled back, “You always were impatient. Just relax, and everybody stay still.” She glanced at Abby and murmured, “Go as quickly as you can.”

Abby crushed the urge to yank half-buried boards out of the way. Look, evaluate, assess. Just like in the ER. When you rushed, you missed things. Lift, carry, throw. She kept at it, shoulder to shoulder with Harper.

Presley climbed down to join them, carrying sweatshirts. “You two should put these on—you’re both soaking wet. I put blankets in the ATV for the others.”

Abby welcomed the warmth, not realizing she’d been cold until she wasn’t any longer.

“Any news?” Harper asked, going back to work.

“Cell reception is spotty. I couldn’t reach your parents or the hospital, but I got a couple of others on the emergency communications tree who will start calling everyone to report to the hospital. I need to go too, as soon as we get them out.”

“We’re close now,” Abby said.

“I can see shadows moving,” Margie yelled.

Relief poured through Abby’s chest so fast she felt light-headed. “Soon!”

“Almost there,” Harper said. “Are we coming right for you?”

“A little to your left.”

“Okay. Don’t move yet.”

Abby lifted aside a two-by-four and cried out. A hand appeared in the space she’d made. Small and pale and beautiful. She knelt, grasped the fingers. “Margie?”

“Hi, Abby,” Margie called back.

“Almost there, sweetie. Just another minute.”

Abby hated to let go of those fingers, but she had to. Harper crouched beside her and they passed rubble back to Presley, cleared a path until Margie’s face appeared at the end of the tunnel. Her face was streaked with dirt and a purple bruise blossomed on her left cheek. Her eyes were dry, and her smile wide.

“Can I come out now?”

“Nice and easy,” Harper said.

Margie shimmied toward them, arms outstretched. When her shoulders appeared, Abby and Harper grabbed on and pulled her all the way out.

“Presley, take her to the ATV and get her warm,” Harper said.

“I can help—”

“Go. Don’t get any wetter than you already are.”

Reluctantly, Margie let Presley lead her up the slope to the vehicle.

Abby inched deeper into the tunnel. “Blake, can you see the way?”

Blake’s head appeared in the tunnel. His hair was caked with dirt and blood smeared the side of his neck. Not much blood, but the sight of it made Abby bite her lip. She forced a smile.

“Hi, baby.”

“Jeez, Mom, come on,” Blake said, his eyes shining.

“Sorry, I forgot. Come on out of there.”

“Here…” Blake pushed the partially crumpled cardboard box out first. “Be careful they don’t get wet.”

Abby’s throat closed and she nodded, passing the chicks back to Presley. “Now you.”

Abby held her breath as he inched toward them. His shoulder dislodged a board and several more sluiced down from the heap. Abby twisted aside as one barely missed her head. Blake’s eyes widened.

“Mom?”

“It’s okay,” Harper said. “Keep coming.”

Abby reached for his hand and, when she clasped his fingers, fought the urge to pull him all the way out. She let him come to her, but it was the longest wait she’d ever experienced. At last he was free, and she hugged him close, checking him with quick strokes for damage.