Tony didn't think, didn't look to see if anyone else was closer. ... he just lunged for her.
Six steps away, and a particularly violent shudder almost threw him from his feet. His gaze zeroed in on two tiny hands, scrabbling wildly at slick mud, slipping and sliding, but finding no purchase, no stability, and somehow he kept his own.
Five steps away, too far, too late. His brain supplied the calculations that supported the impossibility of his actions. The mother's voice rang in his ears, a shrill untempered terror, the fear of unimaginable loss. His heart steadfastly disregarded his mind, refused to believe that he couldn't do this. That he wouldn't be able do this.
Four steps away, and she stilled, stopped fighting and looked up. He could see her eyes. The whites of them, huge around a ring of colour he couldn't quite make out. Blue, maybe. Filled with despairing terror, and a hopelessness that no child should feel.
Three steps away, and his own eyes suddenly lit on the massive backdrop of swirling, writhing water. His heart shuddered, slipped a beat and felt like it thumped physically against the arc reactor, such a jolting pain the fear suddenly caused. He almost stopped.
Two steps away, and her eyes met his. Green, not blue, with an almost pale quality. Her terror became hope, and his, determination.
One step away, and he slipped, the rubber soles of his shoes useless against the filthy slick of the eroding riverbank. His weight carried him down, feet going out from beneath him, his body slamming into the shuddering ground. He backpedalled futilely against the force of the sliding soil, as the wet and cloying earth beneath his body sucked him down with a low squelching gurgle.
The ground gave one last vicious tremor, the mud almost physically rolling in on itself, and then the slow crumble of the bank gave way to a full-tilt land slide. He had time only to breathe in, once, before the water rose up to meet him in a wash of dark that engulfed him.
It didn't matter though, because Tony had her, tucked into his arms.
Fighting desperately to find his feet, while still maintaining his hold on the little girl cradled in his arms, Tony frantically tried to surge upright, ignoring the building terror at the back of his mind. He stifled a cry as the first sheet of tepid water splashed across his face, and closed his eyes on the muted blue sky as it disappeared into a blur of grey silt and mire, rapidly turning to inky blackness as they were dragged beneath the surface by the weight of the cloying mud sliding beneath them.
And then the bulk of the formally compacted bank dropped, and the weight of the water disturbed the neatly packed mud, sending it plunging into the river proper, creating a churning roiling mess of rock, mud and water, indifferent to the fragility of the humans caught in its path.
Suddenly wrenched away from the suction of the mud that had held him so firmly, Tony was flung head over heels, losing all sense of which way was up, and which way was down. Something hard slammed into his lower back, and he gasped involuntarily, choking on the filthy river water that invaded his lungs, burning as he coughed and spluttered, and was sent spinning out of control.
He itched, burned to thrust his wrists out, to call the suit – but doing so would mean letting go. Unacceptable. Unable to do anything to stop the rough tumble, completely helpless and at the mercy of mother nature, Tony focused on the only thing he could.
The little girl was unmoving in his arms, and Tony hoped it was terror paralysing her and not injury. Dragging her closer, and curling about her as best he could, he used his own body to create as much of a barrier around her as possible, one hand cradling her head against the concave of his chest, the other wrapped about her lower body as tightly as possible.
A sharpness sideswiped him from the left, a glancing blow that left a path of fire down his right leg, from thigh to knee, and he curved in tightly against the pain, trying desperately not to spasm outward.
Tumbling and rolling, tossed and bucked, spinning and turning and pounded mercilessly from all sides by sharp stings, heavy thuds and mud – so much mud.
And then, suddenly, they simply stopped moving, furrowing into a thick layer of silt, as a heavy weight spread over the back of his legs- another layer of mud, creeping over them, covering them.
Tony broke into fierce movement, fighting against the weight that crept over his back, ignoring the aches and pains as he desperately struggled to get out, even to just roll over – he was going to crush the little girl, bury her beneath him.
He fought like a wild thing, all his strength and a little more besides, desperate, frantic to not be stuck face down, to not have her under him. The weight of the mud was just too much though, he was too exhausted, too injured and didn't have full use of his body, and desperation wasn't enough.
As the mud slicked its way up over his waist, Tony felt his hip push down onto a fragile leg an almost sickening amount, and he waited to feel a sickening pop, hating himself.
It hit him with the force of a small car, smashing into his left shoulder, sending agony radiating down the limb and across his chest, followed by a shocking numbness. He screamed as the force of the blow carried his upper body with its trajectory, wrenching his lower body and legs into a nauseating twist.
Sharp tugs of pain managed to fight their way to the forefront of Tony's receptors. The hazy shadow that had been trying to lull him to sleep fled as he choked on mouthfuls of disgusting mud.
He had a rock the size of Dummy settled over his lowered body, no feeling in his left arm, fire down his right leg and a myriad of other aches and pains.
He smiled.
He was on his back, and the little girl was frantically pulling on his hair, writhing against his lock hold, desperate for air. A quick check ensured that all limbs were accounted for – somehow, somehow (Tony was thanking every known deity to man) she wasn't pinned beneath the rock.
She was alive. Now he just had to get her to the surface.
Which way was the surface?
Surface was up.
Generally.
Surface was air.
And air had surface.
Up.
Up?
Bubbles go up.
The last trickle of air Tony could force from his lungs slowly bubbled up, sliding around his hand with a gentle tickle.
The last ounce of strength Tony could find in his battered body shoved at the girl cradled against his chest – sending her shooting upward, toward the surface and air. Toward her mother and father, her siblings.
Family.
Where Tony could not follow.
A?N-
Love hearing what my readers think, so if you have the time, please review :)
Cliffy. Dont hate me too much, I can't help it.
It's a condition.
So. This be what has happened.
Now for the breathing issues.
Happy Reading :)