Twenty-One “I was not expecting that,” Lynn said, as she stared down the rock slide as if willpower could move it. “What were you expecting? Smooth sailing?” Fletcher asked, as he slid off Terra Cotta’s saddle. “I would’ve been content with smooth walking,” Lucy muttered, joining Fletcher on the road. The pile of rocks, dirt, and twisted roots had been there awhile; Lucy could see fresh spikes of green growth emerging from the broken trees that had re-rooted themselves in the rubble heap. What she couldn’t see was the other side of the road. The heap was piled well over their heads, and a few rainfalls had settled the dirt solidly. Lynn put one hand on her hip and surveyed the earthen wall. “Well, shit,” she said. “Now what?” “Not a lot of options, ladies. We dig, or we go back.” “Back how far?” Lucy asked. Fletcher pushed his hat up off his forehead and scratched at his blond curls while he thought. “Last turnoff I remember would lead us too close to a little town I’m not entirely in favor of.
