EXCERPT: WRECKAGE RIVER

A low rumble vibrated through the floorboards. Piper’s fingers froze mid-air, the bag of flour slipping from her hands.

 Her pulse raced, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. A breath caught in her chest, and before she could react, the flour bag hit the floor with a thud and exploded on impact. White powder billowed out, a cloud that filled the kitchen, choking the air with its sudden, blinding haze.         

               For a split second, fog of white dust obscured everything. But then, the earth shook hard. The floor beneath Piper’s feet trembled, then jolted upward, throwing her off balance. She stumbled forward, her hands instinctively reaching for something to steady herself, but nothing could hold her upright as the house swayed.

            She turned, eyes wide, just in time to see Winnie’s face pale, her brown eyes widening in terror as she bolted upright. No words were needed; neither of them mistook the sound for a heavy truck or distant thunder. They both knew what it was, the unmistakable roar of an earthquake beneath them.

The dogs—Coco, Duke, and Charlie—scrambled around her in panic, their fur cloaked in the same white powder. Coco’s deep growl turned into a high-pitched whine as she tried to shake the flour from her coat, only to be knocked off balance with more tremors. Charlie leapt and spun in circles, his tail stiff with fear, while Duke, usually underfoot, bolted for the door, his paws slipping across the floor.

The kitchen was alive with chaos. Dishes rattled in the cabinets, glasses clinking together like fragile chimes, threatening to shatter at any moment. The walls groaned as the house itself seemed to creak and bend, as if it were trying to hold on as the foundation beneath it cracked. Another jolt sent the table rattling violently, and Piper reached out, clutching the edge to keep from falling. The floor buckled, and the tremors continued, relentless.

Piper’s breath caught in her throat as the ground shook harder, sending another violent wave through the kitchen. She watched in horror as the flour from the bag, still suspended in the air, was whipped around like smoke in a storm, a thick fog choking out everything. Terrified, Piper grabbed Winnie’s hand, yanking her toward the door. They bolted outside.

The dogs scrambled around their legs, whining and barking, desperate to follow except Charlie, who stopped to nudge Winnie’s knapsack, left behind in the chaos. Biting onto the strap, he dragged the bag toward the door. Barely twenty-five pounds, the heavy jolts tripped the Borgi with their intensity. Still, the little dog struggled, he knew how important the bag was to Winnie. She rarely left it behind.

He made it out the screen door just as the kitchen wall collapsed inward, burying the table in broken timber, plaster and part of the second floor. The ground shook again, a brutal shake that nearly knocked them off their feet.

Watson’s deep bark echoed from the porch, calling them. Piper’s heart raced, her feet barely able to keep up with the massive tremors rolling the ground beneath them. The dogs were right behind them, frantic, their nails clattering on the wooden steps.

Around the corner of the house, Piper’s breath hitched as her eyes landed on the barn. It was swaying—no, dancing—in time with the tremors. The heavy structure, built to withstand the seasons, now looked fragile, as though it might crumble under its own weight. The barn’s foundation shifted violently, the base no longer connected to the footers, like a building disjointed, struggling to stay standing.

Running around the outside, barking madly was Bella. The barn door had slammed shut in the quake and she couldn’t find her way back in.

Inside, a frantic shout from Brett tore through the chaos, a desperate cry for help, and then—another jolt. This one hit so hard it threw them onto the grass, and Piper’s knees slammed into the earth. The world around them twisted and cracked like glass shattering under pressure. She heard a sickening, deep screech from the barn, the beams and timbers protesting as the ground shook harder, this time in the opposite direction.

The barn’s massive frame lurched sideways with a deafening crack, the force too much for the structure to handle. The ground beneath it gave way, and in a horrifying instant, the barn collapsed—wood splintering, nails snapping, and debris flying in all directions. Dust billowed up, choking the air. Piper’s ears rang from the deafening crash, but there was no time to process the horror.

“Brett!” Piper screamed, her voice raw, the terror flooding her chest as she tried to push herself up from the ground, but the earth beneath her wouldn’t stop knocking her down. The dogs howled in confusion and fear, their barking lost to the roar of the earth, the rumbling that seemed to come from all directions.

There was no sign of Brett. Only the collapsed barn, splintered in a heap of broken wood and dust. Another massive jolt and the earthquake stopped.

Deafening silence followed the explosion of destruction.

Piper’s throat closed. Covered in dust, tears running down her cheeks, she awkwardly climbed to her feet. There was no air to breathe, only terror that lodged itself deep in her chest.

“Brett!” she cried again. Winnie sobbed next to her.

Without warning, a devastating crack split the air like a gunshot, and then another. They whirled, clinging to each other, to stare at the green and brown wall of the levee to the east.  The massive embankment, a wall of earth and rock that had stood for decades, shuddered, its structure groaning under the immense pressure.

Piper could see a dark line of destruction spreading across the riverbank. The split drove forward and then, in an instant, the levee cracked wide open. The earth beneath it ripped apart as if it were paper, splintering under the effects of the quake.

Then, with an ear-splitting explosion, the levee burst. The earth itself seemed to give way, and in an instant, water shot skyward in a massive geyser, the force of the explosion sending a roar through the air. The water cascaded outward, a wall of dark, churning liquid, as the earth beneath the embankment collapsed in on itself.

Mud, rocks, and chunks of concrete flew into the air, hurtling toward the sky as the river’s bank gave way, helpless to contain the tidal wave that was now racing toward them. The Mississippi, no longer constrained by the levee, surged violently, its current faster and more furious than ever. The roar of water crashing against the broken earth was deafening, like the sound of thunder and the crash of waves combined, as the water surged across the land.

Inside the barn, under the mess, Brett heard his sister’s frantic cries. Brett’s body was wedged under the combine, protected from the weight of broken beams and fallen roof tiles. The air was thick with particles and every breath felt like it scraped his lungs raw, but the frenzied screams of the girls outside sent a jolt of adrenaline through him.

Groaning in pain, he pulled himself from under the combine, his muscles screaming in protest, but his mind focused only on shifting the wreckage pinning him in. He was grateful the massive machine had shielded him from the worst of the collapse, but he could see the remains of the barn trapping him on all sides. The walls were now a mess of broken boards, and the air was hard to breath.

Panic clawed at his chest, but he fought it down. No time to panic, gotta move. His hands grabbed for anything solid. Desperately, he crawled up the combine’s side, his body aching with every movement. Sunlight penetrated the gaps in the ruins, piercing   through the haze. Each breath was ragged.

He used every ounce of his strength to crawl over and under busted pieces of barn. His hands slipped on the slick hay, but he kept going, inching his way to the seat. With a grunt, he wiped off bits of boards, finally settling himself on the seat. He gasped for air, his chest tightening as he heard water splashing against what was left of the outer walls of the barn. Piper, Winnie and the dogs had gone silent.

 Cold, dark water ran in from every crack. Where was the water coming from? He couldn’t figure it out, but he could see the liquid rising and he had to do something.

His heart hammered as he gripped the combine’s levers, praying, Come on, come on, I know you were almost ready.

He twisted the key, and the engine sputtered, coughed, and groaned, but then it died again.

No, he thought, You have to work.

Desperation clawed at him, but he tried again, his hands shaking as he turned the key. There was a loud bang, followed by a deafening clanking sound, and a cloud of black smoke shot out of the exhaust, choking him with the acrid fumes. He coughed, the smoke stinging his eyes and throat, but he refused to give up.

And then, miraculously, the machine roared to life. The engine rumbled, a sound so loud it vibrated through the entire barn. Brett’s heart raced in time with the engine, the sound almost ear-piercing. He yanked on the levers, hoping for movement, but the weight of the collapsed barn was too much. He couldn’t go forward, the machine was wedged too tightly in the debris.

The water was rising faster now, higher, and panic surged again. He slammed the gearshift into reverse, praying the combine could move backward. The engine choked once more, but then it surged, and the machine lurched backward with an unexpected burst of power.

Brett felt the walls around him give way with an explosive crack. The entire side of the barn, already bent and shattered from the earthquake’s brutal force, exploded outward in a shower of boards. Wood splintered, metal snapped, and the wall of the barn flew apart like toothpicks, tumbling through the air in jagged pieces.

The combine and Brett sloshed backward, bursting free into the yard, the remains of the wall collapsing behind them in a heap of scrap. The water surged in waves, pouring through the wreckage, but Brett didn’t stop. He slammed the combine’s throttle wide open, the machine rolling over the broken timber on the ground as the floodwaters continued to rise. Spinning around, he got a good view of what of what was going on in the yard and beyond.

Terror washed over him, and his mouth fell open. Piper, Winnie, and the dogs had somehow made it into Royce’s old fishing boat, perched on cement supports several feet from the collapsed barn. Water lapped at the blocks, already knee-high. They were calling and waving to him while the dogs barked madly, as if they, too, understood the danger. It was clear why when he looked east.

The long, shrub-covered hill holding back the Mississippi River had been breached dead center from where Brett sat. Water jetted through the opening, like a massive fire hose of brown water. A grating noise filled the air, and to his horror, another huge piece of the levee tore away, increasing the flow a hundred times over. The river shifted twenty tons of mud and stone aside like Styrofoam packing, and the flood widened, a wall of water twenty feet high, with five-foot wave crests forming at the top.

He didn’t have time to think. With a single, desperate cry, he jumped from the combine, landing hard in the cold water. Now up to his waist, the current was strong enough to knock him off his feet with each surge. The force of the water threatened to tear him away, to drown him before he could even get close, but Brett didn’t stop trying to cross the yard. But the more he struggled, the stronger the current became, as if the river was trying to push him back.

Then, the boat was moving, lifted off the three-foot cement blocks and carried by the current straight toward him. He timed his movement, bracing himself as the boat rushed toward him. With a last burst of energy, he leaped.

His hands grabbed hold of the side of the boat, the current tugging him. But the moment he caught hold, a floating piece of timber clipped him, nearly knocking him free. He barely kept his grip, his fingers slipping, but Piper and Winnie were there, clutching his arms, pulling with all their strength. Watson, frantic, leapt forward, sinking his teeth into Brett’s shirt, twisting the fabric in his mouth as he yanked the boy back.

It was just enough leverage, and Brett half climbed and half fell into the aft of the spinning boat, nausea cramping his stomach, causing him to retch uncontrollably. Shivering, the girls fell next to him and held his body until the spasms stopped. His thoughts were a blur.

But then a shadow fell over them, and the world seemed to freeze. The sky had darkened suddenly, the sun of the August day swallowed by a thick, dark smog that rolled in like a storm. A damp gust of air swept past, making the day feel even colder, the boat creaking under the pressure of the winds.

Before they could even react, a brilliant flash of lightning streaked across the sky, so close and so bright it nearly blinded them. Brett’s heart skipped a beat as the boat slammed into something massive—the crown of an old oak tree. The boat was caught in its twisted branches, trapped in the canopy.

The water rushed around them, but for a moment, they were suspended, the terror of the flooded Mississippi rushing past them, leaving them caught between an angry sky and the rising flood. Charlie howled as the boat rocked, a long mournful sound and Winnie wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort the little dog.