“Still, when it is discovered, they’re going to have to investigate. Whatever we find to make an explosion big enough—it’s going to be traceable,” Ricky said.
“There’s big enough, and then there is just enough,” George said.
Ricky frowned at his brother. “What?”
“Let’s see those pictures again.”
# # #
George pointed.
“You remember that culvert, Ricky?”
“Which one?”
“Under the West Road, back in…”
“Oh. Right. Yeah?”
George turned to Amber and Alan to explain. “There’s this spot where a little creek runs under West Road. The culvert is enormous now. It used to only be about half the diameter. One spring, right about this time of year, we had a wind storm and it knocked down a dead tree. Part of the tree got lodged in the culvert just as the spring runoff came. Nobody bothered to move the tree and the next thing we knew the entire road was gone.”
“Under water?” Amber asked.
“Nope,” Ricky said. “Gone. The flood eroded everything. It took out the asphalt, gravel, culvert, everything. There was nothing left at all except a huge hole where the road should have been.”
“And from your photos,” George said. “It looks like the spring runoff is in full swing up at that mill.”
“I’m sure it was built to withstand that kind of thing,” Alan said. “Hundreds of springs have passed with no issue.”
“If we cut down these trees,” George said, pointing at one of the photos. He flipped to the next shot. “And then undermine this wall here, it will dam up the water against this wall. It’s going to have to go somewhere. We cut close to the river so the water will cover the stumps. Then, I suspect it will take out this wall. Your creatures must be right on the other side.”
“They might be drowned even if the place doesn’t collapse,” Amber said.
“And if it doesn’t work,” George said, “we still have the option of trying to blow the whole place up, but this is a more subtle way to start.”
“Then we just have to find and eliminate the stragglers,” Ricky said. He leaned back and folded his arms.
“We might not have to worry about stragglers,” Alan said. “Any infection is dependent on a certain population density in order to continue.”
“Let’s not count on that,” Amber said.
“No. Of course not.”
They stopped talking when the waitress brought their food.
As soon as she had left, George asked his question through a mouthful of food.
“So? When do we do this?”
“You have school,” Ricky said. “And you’re part of the planning, not the implementation.”
“This is my plan,” George said. “You need me there.”
“Idea,” Alan said. “This is your idea. It’s still pretty far from a plan. Regardless, you might be right.”
Ricky looked at Alan, surprised.
“I’m thinking we need three people on the ground and one person at the road. If that person happens to have a badge, then so much the better. When’s your next day off?”
Nineteen: Amber
George looked way too skinny and young to be wielding the giant chainsaw, but he seemed to know what he was doing. Amber checked her grip on the rope. It was looped around a sturdy tree and tied to one of the branches of the tree that George was cutting. Amber kept one eye on the satellite messenger and George kept one on her while he notched the tree. It already looked like it wanted to fall. The moment he touched his chainsaw to the back of the trunk, it started to go down. George scrambled up the bank and Alan fought to take up the slack to make sure the tree stayed on course.
Amber didn’t have to do anything. George’s cut had been perfect. The tree fell right on the rock where he said it would. The top part broke off and rolled into the current. It spun and got hung up between the supports where the river disappeared under the foundation of the building. Where Amber was standing the river was pretty wide. She estimated that it was at least forty feet across. It narrowed down in two places—where it went under the road, and where the mill bridged it.
Now that the important tree was down, Amber began to trudge back towards the road so she could cross over to the other side.
Ricky was leaning against his car.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Your brother dropped the first tree. It’s in the right place. All we have to do now is float some more logs down to get in the way.”
“Assuming it works.”
Amber frowned at him. “Of course. You have a problem with this?”
“No,” he said, looking up at the sky. “I’m just frustrated that I’m stuck here. It’s driving me crazy.”
“If someone comes, we need you here.”
“I understand that.”
Amber started up the bank.
“Let me know what happens?” he asked.
“I’ll send you a message.”
By the time she got back to the others, they were already cutting the third section of log. It dropped down onto a set of poles and then they levered the log into the river. It bobbed downstream in the spring current. When it wedged against the others, Amber felt her hope flare for a second. A moment later, it bounced and turned, aligning itself perfectly to flow right through the gap. It disappeared downstream.
“It could still get caught underneath,” George said.
“Let’s not kid ourselves,” Alan said. “This isn’t going to work if everything is free to float and twist. We need something heavy to form a more solid blockage.”
Amber tented her hand over her eyes and looked up at the mill.
“What about that section of wall? It looks like it’s mostly being supported by that one beam and it doesn’t have anything below the right half. If we could make it drop, it would fall right on those first limbs.”
“Too dangerous,” Alan said.
“She’s right though,” George said.
“The reason it looks so enticing is the same reason we shouldn’t mess with it,” Alan said.
