Disclaimer in Part 1. A big thank you again to all of my betas: Winter, Vikki, Lee Ann, and Mary.

Thanks for staying with me through the cliffhangers (like you had a choice ;) ). There's just the epilogue after this!

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Chapter 11

Friday, March 25, 2005

Don froze in momentary panic at the sight of the landslide headed at them. Then his training and experience in crisis situations took over, and he whirled and shoved Charlie through the open space where the glass doors had stood. "Find the stairs!"

They darted through the unfinished house, through a dining area now covered with shards of glass, down a short hallway to the main living room at the front of the house, and then across to the main stairway leading up from the front door. As they started to race up the steps, the roar from outside intensified. Charlie was halfway up the staircase, Don right behind, when the house gave a shudder. Don grabbed for a railing that wasn't there and almost plunged off the stairs, catching himself just in time.

Charlie had reached the top of the stairs, but stopped dead in his tracks. When Don reached him, he realized why. There was a large window at the top of the stairs, meant to give a view of the backyard. It took him a second to realize that the backyard was completely buried. They were looking out at a wall of mud that had risen past the height of the first story of the house, and was still rising.

Charlie turned towards him, frightened. "Don, I thought the house would hold, but I didn't take into account that it might get buried!"

"It's okay, we'll think of something." The house shuddered again, and Don grabbed onto the corner of the wall to steady himself. "Come on, let's see what's up here."

They jogged down the hall to their left, heading towards what looked like the master suite. Suddenly there was a loud crash from behind them. Don whirled to see a boulder the size of an armchair come rolling through the window they had just been looking at and head down the front stairs. The mud started pouring in behind, oozing its way down the hall.

"Come on!" They dashed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. There were no windows facing uphill here, which kept them safe for the time being. Then Don spied the balcony, overlooking the downhill-facing front of the house. "Come on, Charlie."

They made their way out onto the balcony. It was wider than the doorway, with just enough room for a person to stand between the edge of the door and the open ironwork railing. Don looked down at the moving ground that was sliding around the house on both sides. So far, the paranoid owner's money had been well spent. The first floor was entirely buried, but the house was holding. "Now, you're going to have to hold on, okay?"

Charlie nodded. "I hope this works."

"If not, we'll ride the hill all the way down to the bottom, okay?" At his brother's weak smile, Don nodded. "Just hold on."

They didn't have long to wait. The bedroom doors were forced open by the steady pressure of mud and rocks still coming down the hill. When the mass of material swarmed through the bedroom, seeking a way out, it found the open balcony doors. Mud started to roar past the two men holding onto the railing for dear life.

At first it looked like it was going to work. Then Don realized that he hadn't accounted for the rocks in the debris flow. They became trapped by the grillwork of the railing, acting as awall to hold back the rest of the flow. The mud started rising up their legs. He caught Charlie's eyes across the rapidly filling balcony and gave him a reassuring nod.

As the mud reached his waist, it filled the balcony and started rolling right on by. He saw Charlie give a sigh of relief, but then his eyes widened. Turning his head, Don was horrified to see that the mud was rising up the outside of the house. In a matter of seconds, the flow coming past them and off the balcony was at ground level, since the ground had risen halfway up the second story.

He caught Charlie's eyes, helpless. They were buried up to their waists, with no way to move, and once the mud started coming over the roof, they were doomed. It was no consolation to look down the street and see an entire house sliding downhill with the mud and rocks. If they were buried here in place, it wouldn't matter that the house was anchored in bedrock.

Don kept his eyes locked on his brother's, not willing to look away. God, Penneman would be so pleased to know he had won. The bastard. He thought about Terry, waiting downslope, and hoped she had managed to make it out of the way. Maybe she would have had to leave the developer to his own devices as she scrambled to safety. It would be at least a small consolation if he knew the landslide that killed him and Charlie would take care of the man behind it as well.

Then, just as the mud reached halfway up his chest, and he felt the balcony shudder beneath them, the flow of debris started to slow down. A few seconds later, it stopped.

The brothers stared at each other across the pile of mud and rocks that lay between them. It was suddenly quiet, with only the occasional clatter of a rock here and there. "Charlie, you all right?" Being lower to the ground to start with, Charlie was buried nearly up to his armpits. "Can you breathe?"

"Yeah. My ankle's twisted, though." His brother's face was just visible above the pile of debris, and it was shadowed with pain. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." A large rock had come to rest against his side, and he winced as it dug into his ribs. "Do you think that's it?"

"I don't know." Charlie turned his head to look upslope, but the roof of the house blocked his view. "Can you move?"

Don wriggled around a bit. "Yeah, a little. How about you?"

"Not without help."

"All right, hang on."

It took a few minutes, but Don managed to free one arm, then the other. He realized he wasn't going to be able to do any better than that, though. The material around him was too thick to move through, but too thin to push against. Every time he tried to dislodge some of it, more slid down to take its place.

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a ringing sound.

Don looked down in astonishment. His cell phone was still in the breast pocket of his jacket, and apparently, it still worked. He fished it out and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Don? Thank God. Are you okay? Did you find Charlie?"

He echoed her relief. "Yes, Terry, we're fine." He exchanged a glance with his brother. "We might need a little help getting out of here, though." When Charlie rolled his eyes at the understatement, he gave him a quick grin. "Just hang on. We're going to be fine."