Read Online CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: JOAN DAHR LAMBERT
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there was nothing.
Relief flooded her
when she heard Screech calling from somewhere below. His voice was wild
with terror. She scrambled toward him, but another tremor knocked her
down. Clutching the infant against her chest, she crawled toward the place
where she had heard him. The moon was eclipsed by ponderous clouds, and she
could see almost nothing. Then, blessedly, it emerged for a slender
moment, and she spotted Screech crouching part way down the slope. She
ran to him and pulled him up the hill again, toward the cave. Perhaps
they would be safe inside.
They crawled
toward the entrance, but nothing was there. Zena stared, so astonished
she forgot her fear for a moment. The ledge had fallen on top of
it. She pushed Screech ahead of her toward the second entrance, but that
too was gone. The whole ridge had collapsed. There was no refuge,
no place to go.
The roar of the
mountain grew into a sustained shriek. Zena pushed the baby's head
against her chest, and covered an ear with her free hand, to try to stop the
sound. But an even greater clamor arose as the volcano's savage intrusion on
the atmosphere triggered a momentous storm. Thunder split the sky; a wild crack
of lightning followed instantly. The bolt hit the bushes at the top of
the ridge, engulfing them in flames.
Dazed, unable to
think amidst the noise, the horror, Zena could not move. A burning chunk
of rock careened through the air and crashed in front of her, jarring her into
action. Grabbing Screech's hand, she bolted along the ridge, away from the
fires and the belching mountain.
All through the
night, they blundered through the murky darkness, falling countless times,
until they were battered and bruised all over. Only flashes of lightning
gave shape to their surroundings. Then, each rock, each bush and tree
stood out harshly against the scarlet sky. But as soon as the
incandescent spear had delivered its blow, a curtain of black dust descended
once more, making the livid air impenetrable. The urge to stop and rest
was strong. But Zena kept them moving, for she sensed a menace behind
them even worse than the fires. Twice, she had looked behind her and seen
the russet glow of molten rock racing across the plains and up the hills, as if
the mountain itself were chasing her.
The ferocity of the
storm increased moment by moment. The thunder seemed never to stop, and
lightning tore the sky apart in multiple flashes. Wind suddenly blasted
at them, driving hot ash at their faces, into their eyes. With the wind
came rain. Black and filled with soot, it cascaded upon them in torrents,
coating their skin with its residue. Zena stumbled on, clutching the
screaming infant with one arm, guarding her eyes with the other.
A tree fell behind
her with a deafening thud; she hurried away from the noise, desperate now to
find shelter. She could barely see, and branches were crashing all around
them. To go on was dangerous.
She reached for
Screech, to pull him with her under an overhanging ledge, but Screech was not
there. Her fingers touched only air.
She called to him,
but got no answer. She called again. He could not be far away; he
had been beside her only a moment before. Suddenly terrified, she yelled
as loudly as she could into the onslaught of thunder and roaring wind and
crackling flames, but still there was no answer.
Frantic, Zena
tried to retrace their steps, but in the howling darkness, she could not tell
where they had been. She dropped to her knees and crawled, clinging to
the infant while she searched the ground with her fingers. Perhaps he had
fallen, or was trapped somewhere.
She could not find
him. Over and over, she crawled around, trying to search a new place each
time. She yelled with all her strength until her voice was hoarse and not
even a croak would emerge. Finally, she sank to the ground in
exhaustion. Tears poured from her eyes. Screech was gone. He
had vanished, as
Relief flooded her
when she heard Screech calling from somewhere below. His voice was wild
with terror. She scrambled toward him, but another tremor knocked her
down. Clutching the infant against her chest, she crawled toward the place
where she had heard him. The moon was eclipsed by ponderous clouds, and she
could see almost nothing. Then, blessedly, it emerged for a slender
moment, and she spotted Screech crouching part way down the slope. She
ran to him and pulled him up the hill again, toward the cave. Perhaps
they would be safe inside.
They crawled
toward the entrance, but nothing was there. Zena stared, so astonished
she forgot her fear for a moment. The ledge had fallen on top of
it. She pushed Screech ahead of her toward the second entrance, but that
too was gone. The whole ridge had collapsed. There was no refuge,
no place to go.
The roar of the
mountain grew into a sustained shriek. Zena pushed the baby's head
against her chest, and covered an ear with her free hand, to try to stop the
sound. But an even greater clamor arose as the volcano's savage intrusion on
the atmosphere triggered a momentous storm. Thunder split the sky; a wild crack
of lightning followed instantly. The bolt hit the bushes at the top of
the ridge, engulfing them in flames.
Dazed, unable to
think amidst the noise, the horror, Zena could not move. A burning chunk
of rock careened through the air and crashed in front of her, jarring her into
action. Grabbing Screech's hand, she bolted along the ridge, away from the
fires and the belching mountain.
All through the
night, they blundered through the murky darkness, falling countless times,
until they were battered and bruised all over. Only flashes of lightning
gave shape to their surroundings. Then, each rock, each bush and tree
stood out harshly against the scarlet sky. But as soon as the
incandescent spear had delivered its blow, a curtain of black dust descended
once more, making the livid air impenetrable. The urge to stop and rest
was strong. But Zena kept them moving, for she sensed a menace behind
them even worse than the fires. Twice, she had looked behind her and seen
the russet glow of molten rock racing across the plains and up the hills, as if
the mountain itself were chasing her.
The ferocity of the
storm increased moment by moment. The thunder seemed never to stop, and
lightning tore the sky apart in multiple flashes. Wind suddenly blasted
at them, driving hot ash at their faces, into their eyes. With the wind
came rain. Black and filled with soot, it cascaded upon them in torrents,
coating their skin with its residue. Zena stumbled on, clutching the
screaming infant with one arm, guarding her eyes with the other.
A tree fell behind
her with a deafening thud; she hurried away from the noise, desperate now to
find shelter. She could barely see, and branches were crashing all around
them. To go on was dangerous.
She reached for
Screech, to pull him with her under an overhanging ledge, but Screech was not
there. Her fingers touched only air.
She called to him,
but got no answer. She called again. He could not be far away; he
had been beside her only a moment before. Suddenly terrified, she yelled
as loudly as she could into the onslaught of thunder and roaring wind and
crackling flames, but still there was no answer.
Frantic, Zena
tried to retrace their steps, but in the howling darkness, she could not tell
where they had been. She dropped to her knees and crawled, clinging to
the infant while she searched the ground with her fingers. Perhaps he had
fallen, or was trapped somewhere.
She could not find
him. Over and over, she crawled around, trying to search a new place each
time. She yelled with all her strength until her voice was hoarse and not
even a croak would emerge. Finally, she sank to the ground in
exhaustion. Tears poured from her eyes. Screech was gone. He
had vanished, as
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