The Flood Read Online Free PDF Page B

from sight; some should have been visible all the way round Red Deer Point, but many had gone; and the gap marked the spot where the road had caved in. There was just a hole where the road had been, as if some fabulous beast had taken a great bite. Spray, not mud, tossed about and scintillated, but the inundated valley and the dead village were out of sight. In their frantic rush, Woburn and Eve covered a mile or more; but they still seemed very close to the scene of disaster, and spray fell lightly on their faces.
    Eve’s face was spotted with drying mud. So was the nylon slip, her hands, her hair. Woburn knew that he must look as bedraggled.
    They reached the foot of a steep bank which led to the road, and Eve looked at it with a kind of hopelessness.
    “We’re nearly there,” Woburn said, “let me carry you.”
    “No, I can manage, it—” she was almost in tears.
    “Come on,” he said, roughly.
    This time it was even harder. The ground was nothing but stones and there were patches of spiky thistle. Now and again he put his hand against a patch, wincing as he snatched it away. He was much more conscious of the fact that he was carrying a woman over his shoulder; more conscious of her body. Now and again, when he glanced up, the top of the bank seemed as far away as ever. Sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He began to gasp.
    “Must – rest,” he said, and put her down.
    For a moment he sat by her side, sweat oozing from every pore, drawing in deep breaths; then he mopped his face with a handkerchief which was soon damp and dirty. His shirt was wet, his trousers clung to him at the waist. But he was sitting here, safe, and able to look across the valley to the top of Red Deer Point – which wasn’t there.
    There was no mist and no spray in sight.
    “It’s getting. . . better,” he said.
    She nodded.
    “Listen,” Woburn said, “it’s been a shock, but – don’t take it so hard. We’re lucky. We’re alive.”
    She turned her head, to look away from the valley and across the hills. He saw her hands bunch in her lap. She was no longer trembling, but he could sense the stress of an emotion which was almost too strong for her.
    She said: “My sister was in the village.”
     
    At the top of the hill, where the road was smooth and friendly, showing no sign of damage, and where telegraph poles were as firm as they had ever been, they could see some distance. Eve put her dress on, as she sat on a big boulder. Then, they smoked. Jerkily, Woburn told her who he was and where he was staying; she knew Jenny, slightly. Soon, they could see cars heading this way – several of them, a van and two ambulances seemed to be moving very quickly. They heard the snort of motorcycles, and two riders turned a corner, travelling very fast. At sight of them, one stopped; the other went scorching on, and Woburn yelled after him: “Road’s gone!”
    “What’s that?” The motor-cyclist who had stopped was a youthful, hardy-looking policeman.
    “The road’s fallen away,” Woburn said, flatly.
    “You mean – we canna’ get into the village?”
    “Not a hope.”
    “My God!” the man gasped. “The other road’s gone, as well. If we canna’—” He broke off, pale under his healthy tan. “Did you two get away?”
    “We weren’t in the village,” Woburn said, “just going to it.” He didn’t try to imagine Eve’s thoughts, and found himself hating the need to use the word ‘village’. All that had puzzled him was now easy to understand. He could imagine how Jenny would feel, knowing that he had gone to the village and wouldn’t come back. Even the others would be badly shaken; calm, steady Bill Robertson, lively Reggie, with his love of speed and his crush on every pretty girl – oh, forget it. It was her sister who had gone.
    “The Inspector’s just behind,” the motor-cyclist said. “I’d better get on.” He started off again, the engine roaring,