TROOPER LOPATA HAD NEVER THOUGHT HORSES A PART OF THE SCHEME OF things; nevertheless, he and his partner, Condry, were riding them, or at least attempting to, unsuccessfully trying to swipe the sweeping rain from their eyes as they crossed an open field. There was no way their vehicle could run through the muck they had to cross; they'd left it behind at the homestead where they'd "borrowed" the horses. The Souris wasn't too far away, and Lopata could hear its rushing in his ears, even over the hiss and boom of the thunderstorm. [Note--the Souris is a river in North Dakota. Of course, just like with Minot, I know nothing whatsoever about it.]
"Is that it or is it just me?" he shouted, striving to be heard.
"Either that or we're both losing it," his partner replied, just as loudly. Lopata was glad he'd learned how to ride a horse sometime in his childhood; he was equally glad Condry had too, as they reined in not too far from where the river was. It was still somewhat in the distance but they could see, through the driving rain, lights flicking every which way, and hear the voices of people yelling, engines of the cars of motorists braver than they coughing and sputtering in the wet. Condry attempted to speak, got a mouthful of water, spat, and tried again. Lopata cocked his head and shielded his ear so he could hear better.
"You go see what you can do to help them down there. I'm going to check upriver a bit."
"Why?"
"Looks like the road's out. I'm gonna see if there's any cars coming from that way. Don't want another accident."
Lopata nodded and pulled away, moving towards the figures gathered near the river. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to see Condry moving further away, becoming just a speck and then disappearing as he moved on up the bank. He turned back to the gathered people, pulled up, and dismounted, leading the horse around and tying it to the sturdiest-looking tree he could find. There were police cars as well as those of civilians gathered at the scene; they'd evidently taken a much better route than he had. He could identify colors from both state and county cars, and as he jogged down towards the bank he saw a couple of City cars pull up as well. [Note--as with in The Scorpio Murders, I engaged in the odd habit of capitalizing "City" and "State" and such at times.] Apparently word had reached Minot that the situation was getting bad; he assumed they'd want to help put a stop to it before it reached the city. That wouldn't have been good at all. [Note--I was unaware at the time that...I believe Minot is situated atop a large hill!! At least, according to a source I can't find at the moment... Ha ha ha ha!!]
There were people sandbagging the bank. He jumped down into the group and snatched up a couple himself, hefting them up onto the top of the dam they were building. [Note--um...I don't think they build DAMS, just WALLS...sorry...] Already his legs were coated with mud, and the sandbags just got him dirtier; however, he felt the department wouldn't really care about the state of his uniform in this case. He wasn't even thinking of the possible stains as he grabbed any bags he could find, or any that were handed to him, and shoved them any place he could. He had to keep coughing and spitting; the rain was so hard he felt as if he were drowning standing up. A City cop dropped down beside him, also picking up a couple of sandbags, and handing them up and across to him. He spat again as he took them.
"Took you long enough," he yelled.
"We didn't hear it was this bad," the City cop yelled back. "We just got word one of the dams broke. And the road's out."
"That's what my partner went on to check."
"Maybe he called it in?"
"No. We had to leave the cars behind. We took horses."
The City cop gave him an odd look. Lopata took the chance to read his nametag in the flashing lights; HAWTHORNE. "Well, I'm glad you're developing range." [Note--meaning something like, "I'm glad you're expanding your range" or some such. Blah.]
"Plenty of it."
"How long is it going to take your partner to check it out? We were going to send some people on ahead if we had to."
"I don't know." Lopata stood up straight, attempting to see in the direction his partner had disappeared. It was impossible. "He would be back by now, unless he came up against something. I'll go check."
"Watch out for cave-ins. The bank's sliding away."
Lopata simply nodded, climbed up the bank, and jogged away.
Condry reached the washout. It was just as he'd suspected; a huge chunk of the road, at least fifteen feet across, had washed away. In its place was a gigantic pit, approximately ten feet deep; Condry shuddered to think of any motorists that could have come upon it unsuspecting. He tied the horse to a tree and, lowering himself, skidded down into the washout on his back, landing in several feet of water at the bottom. So far it hadn't filled in completely, and he could take a minute to check out the damage. He sloshed to the other side of the pit, looking up at the crumbling asphalt above. He was glad he'd found it; now all he had to do was contact Lopata and the others, and have warning lights set up, so no one else would find it. He just couldn't believe so much of the road was missing. Four earthen walls reared up around him, like a huge grave--
He paused when he caught something, off to his right, out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face the further edge of the washout, blinking water furiously from his eyes. There was something white there, something sticking out of the mud, below the roadbed. He couldn't tell what it was, but if he moved closer and checked it out--
He splashed through the rain gathering in the pit, reaching the further side and swiping at the thick mud with his hand. A chunk of earth came away and he caught the white object as it fell from the bank, then dropped it into the dirty water below him as he saw what it was.
The rain washed the mud away from the human skull that sank away, disappearing into the pit.
Condry backed away slowly from the edge of the washout. He could see other traces of white there, what he was sure were more bones, probably from the same person; the same person who had been buried under the road, now only revealed because of the flood-- [Note--according to the timeline of events now, "buried under the road" isn't quite accurate...but that's neither here nor there.]
He reached the edge he'd slid down, and launched himself fully halfway up it, scrabbling to reach the top. The bones had opened up whole new possibilities. He had to tell Lopata about this. He wasn't even sure what they'd do.
He finally felt gravel beneath his fingers, and pulled himself up with a gasp. He cast one last look over his shoulder into the rain-soaked pit; then turned his head to look upwards again, and opened his mouth to shout--
Something long and heavy came down against the side of his head. More white flashed, only now it was behind his eyes; he felt himself falling, falling, and was so far gone that by the time he hit the bottom he wasn't feeling anything anymore.
"Condry!" Trooper Lopata stopped the horse and yelled his partner's name through cupped hands. "Condry!"
The only answer was the sound of the driving rain, spattering the nearby river and the remnants of the shattered road. He could finally see the washout, and was surprised by how bad it was. But he couldn't see Condry anywhere.
"Condry! Condry!"
Still no response. He got off the horse and jogged to the edge of the washout. There was something large and dark lying nearby. He felt his heart squeezing into his throat as he neared it. Had Condry had an accident? Yet as he reached and stooped over it he realized it wasn't his partner at all, it was an animal--Condry's horse. His fingers came back wet, not from rain; some dark foreign substance was thick and warm on his fingertips. A long ragged slash ran across the horse's throat; its head was just about severed from its body. With a shudder Lopata backed away. His own horse let out a nervous whinny and pawed at the ground, smelling the blood. Lopata turned back to the washout, just by chance catching a glimpse of what was down in it. He couldn't stop the yell from rising in his throat.
"Condry!"
He dropped over the edge and scrabbled to the bottom, forgetting about the horse, heedless of the slippery nature of the mud. He fell chest-first into the growing puddle, his head going under; he sucked in mouthful of muddy water before lunging out and coughing it up. He shook his head wildly and opened his eyes, glancing around. He could see his partner's body floating nearby, face-first in the water; he splashed towards him and turned him over. The left side of Condry's head was dark with blood; his mouth was open and his eyes were closed. Lopata hefted him up and dragged him across, back towards the side of the washout. He whistled to the horse above; it approached the edge, and when the reins fell Lopata caught them and pulled himself up and out, Condry over his shoulder. When he'd reached safety he dumped Condry onto the ground, gasping for breath; without thinking he began pounding on Condry's chest, not bothering to check for a pulse. After a moment his partner coughed up water and hitched in a breath. Lopata scooped him up again, tossed him over the neck of the horse, got up himself, and, kicking his heels into its flanks, turned it back down the river, galloping away for help.
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