Amber wanted to say yes. The idea of cutting the tree down felt like they were standing under a wasp nest, throwing rocks up at it. They needed spray—the kind that sprayed up to twenty-two feet.
“No,” Amber said. The forcefulness of her own declaration surprised her. “We can’t be afraid to act.”
Alan thought for another few seconds and then spoke. “You’re right, but I’m not going all the way to the top of the hill. If something happens, I want to be close enough to help you. You’ve never dealt with these things before and I’m not going to strand you here alone.”
“Yeah, good point,” Amber said. “So before we do anything, bring that saw over here to these smaller trees. We’re going to make some weapons.”
George followed behind and helped Amber cut down trees that were small enough that she could get her hand around them easily. When they had cut three, she and Alan braced the sticks so George could use the saw to sharpen the ends. The wood was a little green, but the spear felt sturdy in her hands. It made the broomstick spear in her trunk seem like a toy.
“Okay,” Amber said. “We’ll be here. You move the moment you think it’s ready to go. Don’t wait until you’re certain, you can always go back, right?”
“Sure,” George said. She could tell that he was going to adhere to his own best judgement, regardless of what she said. Amber decided that she was okay with that. She and Alan parked their stakes by shoving them into what was left of the snow and they waited as George tugged the rope and then revved the chainsaw engine. He started with his notch, aligning it carefully so the tree would want to fall away from the mill and into the river. The rope that connected the tree to the beam began to wiggle as the tree imperceptibly shook.
Amber held her breath as George began to start the last cut.
He shut the saw off and dropped it before she even spotted the lean in the tree. He was running alongside them, up the hill, when she heard the crack. They turned just as the tree began to pick up speed. The rope went tight and the tension swung the top of the tree a little off of its course. For a second, once the rope was stretched to its limit, it looked like the tree was just going to hang there. The mill’s beam was supporting most of the weight of the leaning tree and it was holding up just fine.
Then, the tree began to twist, aligning itself with gravity. That little extra pull was enough. They heard a terrible groan from the beam and then snaps and cracks from the wall that it was supporting. The wall bulged and then a ripple shot through it, almost like it was liquid. The beam began to move and bend. The tree pulled and accelerated. Bricks began to tumble and then a whole section of wall. Everything landed on the loose connection of branches and logs that they had already floated into place below. A moment later, a giant piece of the upper wall tipped and fell, splashing down.
They had created a hole in the wall. It was too high to let any sunlight into the basement room that sheltered the creatures, but that wasn’t the point.
Amber crossed her fingers and watched as the water swirled and foamed where the bricks had fallen.
“We just need it to… Oh!” George said.
A big branch—the one with the rope attached—had torn free from the tree and it was floating down into the pile. It was sideways in the current and it hit the foundation and stalled. The water was already submerging the branch. Amber looked at the columns and realized that the level was climbing fast.
“We should get to higher ground,” Alan said.
“Yeah,” Amber agreed. They gathered their stakes and climbed the hill.
“My father is going to kill me,” George said. He looked back over his shoulder. “That’s his favorite saw.”
George had dropped the saw in his haste to run for safety and it was clear that if the river kept rising, it would be underwater. Before Amber realized what he was doing, George had dropped his stake and was running back towards the tree stump.
Amber put her hand up to cover her eyes.
“He has time,” Alan whispered. It sounded more like a prayer than a statement of fact. “He has time.”
George grabbed the saw and reversed direction like he was running a relay race. The river was already consuming the tracks that he had just left in the snow. George veered a bit and still ended up splashing through a few inches of river water. When he got back to where they were standing, he was wheezing and trying to smile.
“Got it,” he said.
“We saw,” Amber said.
“Come on,” Alan said. “Higher ground.”
They reached some rocks. Amber found her way up first and George passed the saw up to her. She sat down just as they heard a deep rumble from the mill.
“Is everything okay?” a voice asked.
Amber was so startled that she nearly fell off of her perch.
Ricky was standing behind Alan.
“I heard some terrible sounds and you guys didn’t respond to my message,” Ricky said.
“Sorry,” Alan said. “We’ve been preoccupied.”
Ricky nodded.
“There,” George said. “That side is blocked now—look.”
He was pointing to the right side of the foundation. The water was completely stagnant on that side and Amber saw the turbulence where it tried to join back in with the stream. Another bunch of bricks shook loose from above and dropped in. Part of the river bank shifted and a few rocks
