their holdings in Illinois and moved to Hilton Head permanently. I never did fit into their plans. I used to resent that, but I’ve gotten over it.”
As she continued, Chase wondered if she had come to terms with her parents’ neglect.
“To make up for their lack of devotion, they offered to give me a generous monthly allowance to cover all my needs. They didn’t like it when I got a job. I convinced them that I can make it on my own, but they still shower me with gifts. They bought a new Buick, which I didn’t want, for Christmas. I make enough money to buy a car when I need one, but I was perfectly satisfied with my five-year-old Volkswagen.”
Her parents had liked Chase and, without knowing the circumstances, had blamed Amelia for the divorce. She’d remained silent, letting them believe what they wanted to. On the other hand, Chase’s parents had always resented Amelia, and were pleased when he, in their words, “got rid of her.”
In spite of his preoccupation with the difficult driving, Chase remembered that Amelia’s parents had bought costly, and often inappropriate, gifts for her birthday and Christmas, but that hadn’t compensated for the lack of their presence. After they’d spent thousands of dollars to give Amelia a lavish wedding, they seemed to think they’d done their duty by her. They occasionally stopped to see Amelia and Chase, but only for brief visits on their way to business conferences or frequent vacations. The Stones took a cruise each Christmas, and Amelia had spent few holidays with her parents after graduating from high school. And since his parents didn’t like Amelia, Chase hadn’t gone home for holidays, either, until after their divorce.
After a mile or two of torturous travel, the mountain road dipped into a hollow and joined a graveled road along a creek. Only a scant amount of water remained on the road, but the creek was still bank-full. Abandoned railroad tracks lay along the bank of the stream. Evidence of disaster was everywhere. The floodwaters had covered housetops, and rain-soaked curtains drooped drearily from open windows that had been broken by the swift current. Chain-link fences had been torn out by the deadly torrent, the metal twisted together and dumped in mutilated heaps beside the creek bed.
As they drove slowly upstream, Chase said worriedly, “I wonder if I took the wrong road. Rick said there was a town up this hollow.”
“If so, the residents might have perished in the flood. Not many people could have survived this deluge,” Amelia said.
They reached a spot where the strong water had stripped off the surface of the road, and Chase braked abruptly. For several yards, only two or three feet of roadbed separated two yawning ditches filled with pieces of pavement and foul-smelling water. A sharp curve blocked their view of what lay before them.
“Looks like the end of the road. I’ll walk for a mile or so to see if I can find any survivors,” Chase said.
Amelia unlocked her seat belt and stepped out of the vehicle into an inch of water on the roadbed.
“You don’t have to go,” Chase protested.
“This is a joint venture,” she replied. “I’ll do my part.”
Shifting the Jeep into Reverse, Chase backed up cautiously until he found a place wide enough to turn the vehicle. Although it hadn’t started raining yet, the clouds looked ominous, and he wanted to be headed out of this hollow if there was another cloudburst. He pocketed the keys, adjusted a heavy pack filled with food and first-aid supplies over his back. He hurried to join Amelia, who’d already crossed the narrow pathway and waited for him.
In places, they walked through water, and Amelia was thankful for her heavy boots. After they’d journeyed about a mile, Chase suggested that they turn around, but Amelia pointed to a spiral of smoke ahead of them. She was already tired from the unfamiliar exertion, but her steps quickened. She was both eager and fearful to learn the condition of the town’s residents.
After rounding another bend in the road, they climbed a small hill and saw several buildings scattered haphazardly at the head of the hollow. Some houses had been washed off their foundations, outbuildings were now piles of shattered wood, tops of automobiles projected from the creek, a thick layer of black mud covered the ground, plastic bottles and other debris hung from tree branches. Chase pointed at a ramshackle mine shaft and tipple on the mountainside behind the houses.
“According to Rick Smith,” he said, “this used to be a coal town, but the mine was abandoned several years ago. The coal company let the people buy their houses at a reasonable cost.”
Amazingly, a debris-covered bridge still straddled the stream, but water lapped at the wooden floor. Chase tested the stability of the bridge by taking a few uncertain steps on the wet surface.
“Careful!” Amelia cautioned him, holding her breath.
“It’s safe enough,” Chase said, and he took Amelia’s hand and held it tightly as they crossed the wobbly structure.
They sank ankle-deep into the black mud that sucked at their feet as they walked up the town’s one street. Layers of mud and trash covered the ground. Cars were tangled in a net of mud and dead trees. Except for the swirling echoes of the still-swollen stream, a deadly silence greeted them. A few dwellings had collapsed under the force of the water, which had also forced doors and windows open on the remaining houses.
“Anybody home?” Chase called several times.
At first, the town seemed deserted, until they heard the faint sound of music. Momentarily, Amelia and Chase stared at one another in amazement, before they broke into a run, following the curve of the street. Disbelieving, they stopped in their tracks.
A two-story house had been torn in two by the energy of the water, and the lean-to rear section had toppled to the ground. The half-house seemed sturdy, smoke drifted upward from its chimney, and on the front porch, an elderly man sat in a rocking chair, eyes closed, strumming a banjo.
“Hello!” Chase said.
The man’s eyes popped open, and his chin dropped several inches.
“Where on earth did you come from?” he said. Laying aside his banjo, and favoring his presumably arthritic knees, he clambered off the porch. The squat man, who looked as if he were in his eighties, grabbed Chase’s hand.
“Young feller, I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life. You got any water? I ain’t had a drink for three days.”
Without waiting for Chase to remove the backpack, Amelia unzipped it, took out a bottle of water, uncapped it and handed it to the man. While the clear liquid gurgled down his throat, she unwrapped two granola bars and handed them to him. His hands were filthy, but he held the bars in the wrapper and ate them. The way he wolfed the food indicated that he probably hadn’t eaten for three days, either.
He leaned against the porch and motioned toward the mine shaft. “An old sedimentation pond broke open and spilled gallons of slurry into our houses and polluted our wells. I’ve been afraid to eat or drink anything.”
Amelia handed him some antibacterial hand wipes. While he cleaned his hands, she quickly peeled an orange and gave the sections to him.
He ate greedily, but between bites, he said, “‘Scuse my manners, but hunger and thirst was about to get to me.”
“What happened to all of your neighbors?” Chase asked.
He shook his head worriedly. “There’s
