Chapter 35 Riley

CHAPTER 35

Riley

A LOW BOOM echoes across the prairie like thunder. It was overcast when I hoofed it out here, but the clouds weren't the kind that bring rain or thunderstorms. Still, I've read weather can change quickly out here in the Midwest. When I glance up, I see that instead of dark, fast-moving storm clouds, the cloud cover has thinned and there are bits of blue peeking through. Weird.

I pause to grab a sip of water. To the east of the fort, a huge flock of birds takes to the sky in a mini avian-tornado. And then everything goes quiet. It's like someone reached over and turned down the volume of the world. Eerie.

Slipping the cap back on the bottle, I suppress a shiver and tuck it back into my bag. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, and I look behind me to see if I can identify what has me so spooked. There's nothing there.

Then the ground beneath my feet trembles. It reminds me of a Southern California earthquake, but it's too shallow. It's not the kind of movement that rolls and makes you semi-seasick. And it's not the teeth-chattering jolter kind either. It's more like a giant eighteen-wheeler driving by. Strange, I never thought of Nebraska as being prone to tremors. Not that it matters now, because clearly this isn't like any earthquake I've ever experienced.

The constant drone builds in intensity, slowly, with a subtle rhythm. Low-flying helicopters? A battalion of tanks? I don't remember seeing any military bases on the map, but it's so off the grid out here, maybe there's a secret operation. Area 51's cousin, Area 52?

And then I see it. A dust cloud rising and blotting out the eastern entrance of Fort Bellows. The billowing cloud grows larger the closer it gets, and with it, the rumbling grows louder. I pause midstep, my gut telling me something's not quite right, but I can't get a good look since I'm in a small dip in the land. My calves burn as I jog to the top of a nearby hill. What is it? I blink, and then my heart stops when I take in the giant brown creatures headed straight for me.

Bison stampede!

Spinning around to get a sense of the prairie, I realize there's no shelter out here. No place to hide. Animals as big as bison should not be able to move as fast as they do, but they seem to hurl themselves at me like a giant freight train arrow and I'm the bull's-eye. With a yelp, I dart down the hill, the heels of my hiking boots skidding along the grass as I fight for footing. I try to position myself so that I'm moving perpendicular to the animals, hoping that I can make it out of their path before it's too late.

My hiking boots slip and slide over the ground and my backpack slams into my lower back. I grip the straps to help hold it in place while dodging prairie dog holes, rocks, and uneven ground. I stumble when my foot gets caught up in a tangle of vegetation, and I wrench it free with a grunt.

The thunder of hoofbeats grows even louder until it sounds like the bison are right on top of me. I don't dare look. I just put every last bit of energy I have into running as fast and as far as I can.

People in near-death situations always say their life flashes before their eyes, but the only things flashing before my eyes are the endless blades of grass and regrets.

I could have been sunning myself on the beach.

I could have been illustrating science placards at the marine center.

I could have spent more time with Colton.

"Riley."

Adrenaline must be playing tricks on me, because I swear I heard his voice the minute I thought of him. But there's no way.

I glance to my right and, holy hell, I'm really bad with approximating distances, but the bison are close.

Really close.

Close enough to see the sweat and saliva dripping from their mouths.

Oh my god.

Every slam of my foot into the ground echoes through my bones. The blood rushes through my ears, nearly drowning out the drum of the hoofbeats as they grow louder and louder. It's almost impossible to keep my balance as the ground shifts beneath me and just as I'm about to topple forward, something rams into my backpack, hooking the top strap and yanking me off my feet. I'm jerked sideways while my feet circle in the air, scrambling for the earth, and I let out a half-choked scream.

This is it.

I've been tossed into the air by some massive bison horn and my poor, fragile body will soon be trampled by creatures that weigh at least a ton, maybe two. I can practically feel my bones shattering as I tense, preparing for impact.

But the split second of midair weightlessness is over sooner than I expect. I land hard on my tailbone and yelp, my eyes flying open as a viselike grip settles on my waist to keep me in place.

"Hold on," Colton calls over his shoulder.

Instinct takes over, and I wrap my arms around his waist and grasp him for dear life. He pulls his arm away, untwisting it from its awkward angle, and leans forward in the saddle.

Now I know I must be dead or on the verge of it, because there is no way I'm riding a galloping horse across the Nebraskan prairie having just been lifted onto said horse by Tall, Dark, and Irksome as we're being chased down by a herd of stampeding bison. As if to prove to myself that none of this is real, my fingers splay over his muscular abdomen, the fabric of his flannel shirt soft against my skin. His back presses into my chest when he adjusts his weight as we veer around a pile of stones. Thing is, he feels too warm and real for this to be a hallucination.

The sound of thunder grows louder still and I peek over my shoulder to find the stampeding bison bearing down on us. With their pointy horns and foamy mouths, they look furious. I lock my arms even more tightly and whimper.

Colton tips his head to glance behind us. "Shit, they're following us." He lets out a low growl that I feel all the way down to the tips of my toes. "C'mon, Chance. Fly."

We race across a dry creek bed, littered with pebbles and small stones. Chance's rear hooves slip and for a moment, I think we're going down, but somehow he manages to find his footing.

Colton's arm wraps around mine to keep me from lurching back and we burst forward, scrambling up the dusty wash. The bison are closer—near enough that I can hear their heavy breathing over the sound of their hoofbeats. I shudder and press myself as close to Colton as humanly possible.

We come upon a racing brook, at least fifteen feet wide and deep enough that you can't see the bottom. We speed alongside in a straight path as the water snakes along its banks. A bison pulls alongside us and Chance veers away as the giant beast tips his head in our direction. I swear I feel the whisper of its horn pass by my elbow.

I suck in a shaky breath, my lungs tight with fear, exertion, and the musky scent of the shaggy, sweaty beasts out for blood. Colton's hand wraps around mine and he leans us to the left as we race toward the brook.

"Hold on," he says as Chance darts down the embankment and straight for the rushing water.

With a giant splash, the horse dives in. Droplets rain down over us, trickling down my face. I brush my forehead on the back of Colton's shirt and glance down. The water comes up to our ankles and soaks into my hiking boots. The shocking cold of it has me gasping for air a moment later.

I'm alive.

Blood pounds through my veins and I shiver, tightening my grip on Colton. When I look back over my shoulder, I see that the bison have opted to stay on dry land. Some of the herd flow away from the water and back toward the prairie, while a few others stand along the edge of the embankment and toe the ground while they keep a watchful eye on us.

Turning to face forward, I slump against Colton. He's warm and steady. His thumb traces a slow circle over the back of my hand as he coaxes Chance across the brook. "Good boy," he says.

Chance slows in the current but plods forward until we reach the bank on the other side. The minute we're on dry land again, Colton tosses one leg over the horse's head and slides off. He reaches up to help me down, and I brace my arms on his shoulders as he guides me to the ground. My knees wobble and Colton tightens his grip.

"Are you okay?" he asks, running his worried gaze over me from the top of my head to the toes of my boots.

I nod because I can't find my vocal cords.

Colton pats my arms like he's looking for broken bones or reassuring himself that I'm really standing here in front of him. His palm cradles my face while the fingers of his other hand tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I lost my baseball cap," I say.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, and then Colton lets out a giant laugh. The look of relief in his eyes sets something loose in me, and I join him. The laugh pulls at my sides and sends tears to my eyes.

I puff out a trembling breath. "Did that really just happen?"

Colton's forehead rests on mine as he takes a step closer. "Yeah."

"You saved me."

He shrugs. "I was just in the right place at the right time."