A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but a lot happens in it. Again thanks so much to everyone who reads and reviews!
Over the Edge
-7-
"OK, how about we don't panic about this," Brian said in a tone he probably thought was calm and reassuring.
Adam came out of his bedroom, pulling a thick sweater over his head. Hannah followed him down the stairs, wrapped in a quilted robe. "Too late for that," the oldest McFadden said grimly.
"There could be plenty of good reasons they aren't home yet. Like maybe they decided to go out for burgers, or something."
Crane snorted, leafing through the Sonora phone book. "Why would they go out for burgers when they just spent hours in fast food heaven?" He dialed a number, listened for a moment, and then slammed the receiver down. Hannah jumped a little bit at the noise. "No answer at any of the numbers for the Blue Boy."
"Okay, so there could be another reason," Brian said. He looked at Adam steadily. "It wouldn't be the first time one of us stayed out and had a couple of drinks."
Adam slammed his hand down on the desk. "Is that supposed to make me feel better, Brian?"
"They wouldn't do that," Crane chimed in.
Brian sighed. "They're kids, you guys. Kids do dumb things."
Nobody mentioned that Brian McFadden - as a teenager - could have been the poster boy for Kids do dumb things.
Adam leaned against the wall, sighing. "I'm not saying Evan wouldn't go out for a beer, but Ford? And neither one of them would do it with Guthrie along."
"They're too protective of him," Hannah nodded.
Crane choked back a hysterical giggle. "They'd be too afraid he'd tell Adam."
Brian ran his hands through his hair. In spite of his words, it was obvious from the tension on his face that he was as worried as either of his two brothers. "Which highway would they take?"
Adam shook his head. "If Evan was driving, they'd take the river route. But this Ty kid, I don't know."
"That's an idea!" Crane said. "I'm going to call his house and see if maybe they're over there." It didn't make sense that they would be, but Crane was grasping at straws now.
"Do you know the number?" Adam asked. "Because they won't be in the phone book. They moved here after it came out."
"I can call Information." Crane had another idea though and lifted the phone again, quickly dialing a number he had committed to memory a couple of weeks ago. When someone on the other end answered, he said, "Is Daniel McFadden still there? I need to talk with him."
Rightly guessing that Crane had called the bar Daniel had been slated to play in that night, Adam dropped down to sit on the edge of the sofa. Hannah slid in next to him and grasped his cold hands in both of her warmer ones.
"No… I understand," Crane said slowly. He hung up the phone and turned to face his family. "Daniel's already gone. The band finished up a little early tonight."
Silence.
"Which way would Daniel drive home?" Adam finally asked, directing it at Crane.
"The river route," Crane said firmly
Brian swore under his breath. "I wish they'd never re-opened that road after those mudslides last year."
"What's wrong with the river route?" Hannah asked. "It's shorter—" she caught her breath with a little noise. "That's not where your parents -?"
Adam shook his head. "No. They were coming from the north into town." He rubbed his hands over his eyes as if he were trying to rub the memory of his parents' accident away.
"The river route is shorter," Crane agreed. "But it can be dangerous in spots. Even without mudslides. And especially at night."
The phone startled them with a shrill ring. It rang a second time before Crane answered it. "Hello?"
They all saw the blood drain from his face.
7Bf7B
Evan forced open heavy eyelids, staring up into the night sky. The brilliant moon had moved down, indicating the passage of time. How long had he been lying here? How long had it been since he had sent Guthrie to climb up to the road?
He hated that he had forced Guthrie to leave. Guthrie was twelve. He shouldn't be wandering around in the middle of the night by himself. But Evan knew there had been no choice. He was trapped and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get loose. Ty – his friend, his teammate – was dead next to him. With an effort, Evan pulled his mind away from that thought. Later – later, when he and Ford and Guthrie were all safe in a hospital, he'd grieve his friend. Right now, he had to worry about his brothers.
He licked his lips, trying to find some moisture in his mouth. He didn't really hurt that badly, but he was terrified that he couldn't feel his legs. Were they even still there? Had they been crushed by the weight of the V-8 engine landing on them?
The thought of never riding in a rodeo, or playing basketball, or – hell! — Never even walking again terrified him
He forcefully pulled his mind away. He couldn't think about himself right now. He needed to think about his brothers.
Guthrie had said Ford wasn't too far away; Evan couldn't twist around to spot him but maybe if he yelled… maybe Ford was awake now.
"Ford!"
Hardly a yell. More like a loud whisper.
Evan took a deep breath, ignoring the sudden stabbing pain in his chest, and screamed out as loud as he could, "FORD!"
A knife-like pain tore into him and the night became blacker, darker and silent as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
7Bf7B
Daniel swore under his breath as he slid another ten or so feet. He almost lost the flashlight clenched in his hand. With his other hand he caught a protruding tree root and stopped his rapid descent.
"Hell if I can figure out how Guthrie climbed up this path when I can't even stop sliding down it," he said aloud, somehow comforted by the sound of his own voice in the night. Little puffs of steam vanished into the frosty air as he spoke.
Taking a quick break, he flashed the light around, trying to get his bearings. Just how far down was the car? Was he even going in the right direction? Although he had his flashlight and the moon was still shining brightly in the sky, it was hard to see with all these trees and scrub brush. Could he possibly have missed Evan and Ford? He really didn't think Guthrie could have climbed this far with his ankle messed up like it was.
On the other hand, he didn't know how long ago the crash had happened or how long it had taken Guthrie to scale the embankment. Daniel shone his flashlight on his wristwatch so he could see the time. Not quite three a.m. He'd left the bar about one forty five; found Guthrie a little after two-fifteen. And it had taken him awhile to start down the mountain. So he hadn't been moving as long as he thought.
He sat the flashlight to the side, using both hands to zip his jacket all the way up to his neck. Then he pushed his bangs out of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked down into the inky blackness of the canyon.
Daniel swallowed hard. He was pretty sure the Blue Boy closed at midnight. Even if his brothers had left after closing, that still meant they'd been here, injured, awaiting help for close to three hours. If he hadn't seen Guthrie on the road…
But he had seen his brother, and Guthrie was safe. Well, as safe as Daniel could make him at least. The thought crossed his mind maybe he should have sent his little brother with that Jake guy to call for help, but then he shook his head. Jake seemed okay, and he'd promised to get help, but Daniel wouldn't entrust Guthrie to a stranger. He prayed Jake was the upstanding guy he'd seemed to be in their brief conversation and that he really would bring assistance.
He should have given Jake their phone number and had him call their house. Daniel shuddered. He didn't even want to think about how his older brothers were going to react to this…
He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and picked up the flashlight again. Steeling himself he took another step, then another, feeling for firmer footholds. As much as he wanted to tear down this embankment, find his brothers, he knew he had to be careful. He wouldn't be able to help Evan and Ford if he was hurt himself.
"FORD!"
Daniel gasped. He knew that voice.
"Evan!" he yelled. "Evan! Can you hear me?"
He waited.
Nothing. Silence.
Evan must be close. The voice had come from further down and maybe to the left? But he was near, Daniel knew it.
He worried why Evan wasn't responding to him, why Ford wasn't saying anything. Was Ford still unconscious? Where were they?
Gathering himself together, Daniel resumed his descent.
He had to find his little brothers.
7Bf7B
Guthrie blinked, looking around, confused.
'Where am I?'
In a car – in their Jeep? But how had he got here? He'd been climbing up that steep cliff… why?
Memories unfolded like lightning and he gasped, seeing in his mind Evan, pinned beneath a car. Ford, still and not moving. And someone, someone was dead? Who was dead?
He looked around. Daniel…hadn't Daniel been here? Everything seemed so weird and far away. But he was sure Daniel had been right here… sometime. He'd wrapped something around Guthrie…
Guthrie looked down. He was wrapped in a sleeping bag, but all he had on underneath it was his white cotton t-shirt and his jeans. No coat, no sweater or long sleeved shirt.
He'd left his coat somewhere… why couldn't he remember? It was important. Wasn't it? Adam would be mad if he'd just gone off and left his clothes somewhere.
Nausea tore through him suddenly and he twisted, struggling to sit up, to open the door before he puked all over himself.
For a few minutes all he could do was retch helplessly, his head pounding with the beat of his heart. Finally though, the spasms eased and he almost collapsed out the door.
Go get help. You have to go get help.
Evan had told him that. Evan needed help. So did Ford. And Daniel? Guthrie looked around. He couldn't see Daniel. Had he really been here, or was that a dream?
Ford was hurt. So was Evan. That wasn't a dream. They needed help. Guthrie had to get help for them.
He slid out of the Jeep, fighting the entangling folds of the heavy sleeping bag, finally just letting it fall. He took a step.
Oh, God!
Fiery pain lashed up from his ankle, spearing into his leg and overcoming everything with waves of red hot agony. He collapsed onto the road.
Icy sweat cascaded down his face and back, saturating the cotton t shirt he wore. He breathed heavily, panting, barely noting his breath puffing in the cold air.
He didn't know if he could get up. He didn't think he could walk.
He had to. Somehow. Everyone was depending on him.
Summoning the kind of strength he knew his brothers had, Guthrie dragged himself upright. He hung on to the Jeep door for a few minutes, catching his breath and his balance.
He had to go find help.
Bracing himself against the pain, he took one cautious step, then another, shuffling along and trying not to put weight on his bad ankle. He moved away from the Jeep, no longer even noticing it, or the flares set out to alert a vehicle coming by.
He had to get help.
Evan needed him. Ford needed him.
And a McFadden never let his brothers down.
Guthrie moved farther and farther away from light and safety, disappearing into heavy darkness.
To be continued…