“This should be good enough.” Mila turned and made sure she still had a clear view of the minibus and the ladies. A prick of uneasiness made her pause and reconsider. As irritating as they were, they were seniors. What if a medical emergency occurred while she and Robbie were perched halfway up the mountain? Of course, even though she had training for minor issues, anything severe would be beyond her skills. And the ladies had survived the trip from their beloved Cobeak, Illinois, to Edinburgh, Scotland. Surely, they would be all right.
“What’s wrong?” Robbie plopped his backpack onto the ground, then sat beside it.
“Nothing.” She joined him and unzipped her pack. “Just checking to see if they’ve started brawling yet.”
“I think that’s how they communicate with each other,” he said around a bite of sandwich. “Like when animals growl, but dinna mean anything by it.”
“Ye are a wise lad.” She unwrapped her egg and cress sandwich, frowning at its mangled condition. “Look at this. The ice pack smashed it flat as a griddle cake.”
“It’ll still eat just the same.” He grinned. “Least ye can lick the squished egg off the paper.”
“True enough.” She poured them both a cup of tea. As she handed him his cup, she noticed him frowning at something and turned to see. A thick bank of dark clouds, its swirls and billows flickering with lightning, was bearing down on them. The speed of it was impressive. She unleashed a frustrated groan. “Bloody hell. Look at that storm coming.”
“Aye.” He shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and started repacking his bag. “Be here in a flash.”
She did the same, squinting as the wind whipped her ponytail into a wild frenzy. She cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed at the tour group below, “Take cover!”
With all the debris spinning about, she could hardly make out anything past an arm’s length. She hoped the women heard her warning, or at least noticed the storm and got back into the bus. As she slung her pack to her shoulder, her stomach lurched as if some unseen force had punched her. A cold sweat peppered her upper lip. Wave after wave of nausea washed through her. She dropped to all fours and threw up, heaving so hard it felt like she was turning herself inside out.
Even though the wind had reached a deafening howl, she vaguely picked up on the sound of nearby retching. Robbie. Sick as well. Fighting the storm and blinding dizziness, she crawled over to him. “Robbie!”
He shook his head, then threw himself into her arms, convulsing and gagging.
She closed her eyes and held him tight. No way could they make it down the hillside. Wind and rain lashed against them, but the worst part was the awful falling sensation. The relentless storm swallowed them whole and sent them spinning down its dark gullet. At least if they died, they died together.
A terrible, high-pitched keening screamed and whistled all around. She covered Robbie’s ears while tucking her head against his. Never in her twenty-eight years had she ever experienced such a raging tempest.
Once the roaring squall died, it took her a while to realize it. Nature’s attack had numbed her, made her feel fuzzy-headed and not sure of anything. Rain still peppered down, but nothing like before. The sky had softened to a murky blanket of grayness. The lightning-filled blackness of the angry cloud bank had passed. She straightened but kept a tight hold on Robbie. Thankfully, both nausea and dizziness had left her.
After swiping her soaked hair out of her face, she gently patted the lad on the back. “The worst is gone. I think so, anyway. Are ye feeling any better?”
He slowly uncurled and lifted his head, squinting up into the rain. Water streamed down his face, plastering his short, dark hair to his skull. While he was still somewhat pale, she took heart at the two faint patches of pink highlighting his cheeks.
“I dinna feel sick anymore,” he said. “My eggs didna taste as if they had turned. Did yers?”
“No.” She pushed herself up and helped him stand. “Mine tasted fine, and if it had been food poisoning, I think it wouldha lasted longer.”
“It wouldha,” he said. “Mama got it once after some bad clams. She was sick for a few days.”
That was the first time he had spoken about either of his parents since the auto accident, but Mila didn’t draw attention to it. She merely took heart, hoping that meant he was slowly healing from their loss. She waved him forward. “We best go check on our ladies, aye?”
He made a face. “Ye know they’re going to be madder than wet hens?”
“I know. But there is no avoiding it.”
“Ye go first.” He adjusted his pack across his shoulders and grinned. “In case they start throwing shite.”
She started to correct his language, then found herself unable to speak. Even through the rising fog and mizzling rain, she could tell something was very wrong. Their surroundings were entirely too quiet. “Robbie.” She swallowed hard and pointed. “The bus is gone.”
He stepped up beside her, his thumbs looped through the straps of his pack. “Uhm—so is the road. And the grumpy hens.” He stared up at her, his voice cracking with the same panic strangling her. “Where is everything?”
“I dinna ken,” she whispered, hugging him close. “I dinna ken what has happened.”
Chapter Two
Mila turned ina slow circle, but it did no good. No matter how long she stared at the muddy path that had replaced the paved highway, nothing made sense. Everything was gone. Tourists. Vehicles. Even the man-made boulders placed along the overlook for visitors to perch on and take photographs. Nothing remained but the glen, the mountains, and a muddy trail creased with ruts, deep divots, and prints of hoofed animals.
“It canna be a hallucination,” Robbie said. He edged closer to the drop-off and peered downward. “’Tis verra rare for two people to share the same imagery.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scenery, then a thoughtfulness took over his expression.
