Chapter 7

Clara looked up towards the sky. The trees were very sparse at this point, so much of the sky was visible. Or should have been visible. Instead, a dark mass was rapidly filling the sky.

"Is that clouds, or smoke, Mom?" Verne asked curiously.

"I don't know, and it doesn't really matter," she replied a little snappily. "Let's get out of here!" She started navigating through the trees again, and the boys trudged along close behind, Jules holding Verne's hand.

Half a minute later, the party were almost knocked off their feet by a second quaking of the earth. A loud snap warned Clara of a falling tree ahead, so she jumped backwards to keep well out of the way. Jules and Verne bumped into her from behind.

"Ow! Careful, Mom," Verne yelped, rubbing his sore arm.

"It's better than ending up underneath a tree, Verne," Jules pointed out. "Come on," he urged, starting forward again. Unexpectedly a strong gust of wind whipped through the region, ripping off leaves and small branches. Jules' hands flew up to his face to protect his eyes. "Whoa, I wonder what caused that," he yelled, trying to be heard over the howling wind. It showed no signs of slowing.

Clara tried to struggle forward. "I don't know," she yelled, "but it doesn't look good. At this rate, we won't have time to get back to the train."

"You think it'll rain?" Verne asked as loudly as he could, mishearing his mother.

"Sink in what?" she shouted back.

"No, I'd say it's cold," Jules joined in.

"What's been told?" Verne wondered. "Hey, you're right, it is raining!" And it was: big fat drops of water were dropping out of the sky and splattering the landscape at high speed, almost horizontal.

The trio gave up on speaking as they pressed on through what was left of the trees. A constant river of dirt and vegetation blew by, scratching and battering everything in their path. Adding to the trouble, the rain quickly turned the ground into a collection of muddy puddles

Bracing herself against a tree trunk, Clara slowly pulled the radio out of her pocket. "Emmett! Where are you?"

"Clara! I'm attempting to hover in-place instead of being carried away by these winds. I've had to go up high enough to avoid all the debris."

"What about us? We can't avoid the debris and it's muddy and the wind is too strong to walk without holding onto the trees!"

In the cab of the train, Emmett suddenly realised how selfish and negligent he had been. What had he been thinking, leaving his family to trek in these kind of conditions? "I'll come down and pick you up. The final system checks are nearly finished, and they all look good. Stay where you are, and try to shelter from the wind. I've pinpointed your position from your radio signal."

"Please hurry, Emmett, we can't survive for much longer!" Clara replied desperately. She looked around for her sons, to see them sheltering behind an immensely thick tree of unknown species. Returning the radio to her pocket, she crawled over to them. "Your father is flying over to pick us up!" she shouted in their ears.

Jules nodded in understanding, and Verne grinned. "Dad to the rescue!" the boy exclaimed. "Hey Mom, you should take a look at all the pictures I've taken!"

"Not right now," Clara answered in his ear. She was somewhat surprised that he was handling the situation so well. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten about his injured arm in his youthful excitement. She pulled out her radio again, waiting for Emmett's next transmission.

Sure enough, she shortly heard him say, "Clara, do you hear me? I'm above your approximate position. Please respond."

"I hear you, Emmett." She looked up into the sky. "I think I see something, but the visibility is terribly low."

"Ah, there you are. I now have your exact position. I'll come down as low as I can... but I won't be able to land. I'll need to throw down a rope."

"Understood, Emmett. We're ready." She turned her head to face the boys. "He's throwing down a rope," she repeated.

Emmett gradually guided the train into position. He swung it broadside into the wind. This orientation made it much harder to resist the forces of the wind and driving rain, but it allowed the doorway to be sheltered, protecting the inside of the time machine.

Taught by some of his earlier (or later) experiences with Marty, he had obtained a good quality rope ladder and stored it in the cab in case he again needed to pick someone up while flying. Now he located the two hooks on one end of the ladder and snapped them into a pair of sturdy rings set in the floor of the cabin. With the end of the ladder thus secured, he opened the door and hefted out the bulk of the ladder.

"Clara, I've thrown down the ladder! Do you see it?"

Clara looked around frantically. "No, Emmett, I don't! I can see the train: it's nearly right overhead."

Emmett peered out the door, and was most disappointed to see the ladder in an almost horizontal orientation, dragged out by the extreme winds. "The wind's too strong!" he called to Clara over the radio. "The ladder won't reach the ground, it just blows out sideways! It's much too light."

Clara's face fell. "Is there anything you can do? Maybe you could... tie something onto the end of it."

Emmett frantically scanned his eyes around the cabin. He glanced at the instruments, making note of the wind speed, and made an estimate of the weight required to swing the ladder near enough to vertical. "I'm afraid there's nothing here that would be heavy enough!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Clara responded frantically.

"What is wrong, Mom?" Jules asked, concerned by her tone of voice.

"The wind's too strong for the ladder to reach us, and there's nothing heavy enough for your father to tie onto the end to weigh it down," she explained in his ear.

A light-bulb went on in the boy's head. "Couldn't he weight it down?"

"But with what?" Clara didn't get it.

"With himself! Give me the radio." "Hey Dad, this is Jules. If you climb down the ladder yourself, it should swing into the correct position. Understand?"

"Brilliant, Jules! I should have thought of that myself. Fortunately the wind is staying stable enough that the train should be able to keep itself stable without constant pilot input."

"Should, Dad?"

"Ninety-eight percent sure. I'll be right down." Emmett quickly rummaged through a large backpack and pulled out a thick, waterproof jacket and a matching pair of gloves. He threw it on, buttoned it up, and fastened the pack on his back. After slipping his strong hands into the gloves, he turned so he was facing away from the door and began climbing down - or rather, along - the ladder.

AN: Sorry for the long delay. Been busy and lazy and stuff. I put up TWO chapters rather than one, as a peace offering. Oh, and I finished the story a few days ago. So I have three more chapters to put up some time. :D