She left early for school. Mom and Dad hadn’t said anything about the grounding, and she hadn’t asked. She didn’t really care any more. Ohlan mattered more to her than parental rules, sorry. Also more than school.
She sat through her morning classes in growing restlessness. When the bell sounded for lunch, she couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around with her friends.
She’d had enough. She’d tried to wait. She just couldn’t take any more.
She shoved her pack in her locker and headed for the bike racks. The midday sun was hot on her shoulders. She pumped up Mountain Loop from the north side, the side nearest school, glad that she wouldn’t have to pass her street.
The first shock came when she reached the trailhead. The big sign had been updated with a yellow and black “CLOSED” sign. A large barrier of orange striped sawhorses and yellow tape stood across the trailhead.
A white pickup truck with toolboxes all around and a flatbed trailer hitched behind was sprawled across the half-dozen parking spaces. The bike rack had been uprooted and lay in the bed of the truck. Seeing it there made her angry and a little frightened. She hauled her bike up the hill a few paces and chained it to a small pine tree.
Something heavy had driven up the trail—the tracks had torn up the ground a bit. Too small to be a truck, and the trail was too narrow for one in a lot of places anyway—but it could have been an ATV. Holly frowned as she started up the hill.
She’d come to think of this as her place, and she resented the intrusion of the contractors, even though she knew the trail would be better for their work. She could let that happen, but she couldn’t let them destroy the spring.
Too steep to run, but she hiked as fast as she could. In a couple of places the trail had already been altered; some rocks that had made going rough had been dug up and rolled aside, and in one place smashed apart. Her dread grew at the sight, and though her lungs were starting to burn she strode faster.
As she neared the glen, she heard the sound of a generator. Wrong; that sound didn’t belong in her private sanctuary. Her world was being torn apart.
Heart pumping, she arrived at the glen and saw a mess. She’d been right about the ATV—it was parked by the bush where the squirrel had been recuperating. Her rush of fear for the animal’s sake was surpassed by the sight of the spring.
A large hose was snaked into the concrete coffin, attached to a big pump that was sucking the water out and spilling it down the hillside. The water was down about a third. Holly gasped.
Ohlan?
No sign of him. Maybe he was taking the squirrel to safety. She hoped that was it.
The generator was only powering the pump at the moment, but there was a big thing she suspected was a jackhammer on the back of the ATV. Two men—a wiry Hispanic guy and a sandy-haired Anglo, both wearing hard hats—were lounging beside it, talking and leaning on sledgehammers. They looked up at her.
“Hey, the trail’s closed,” said the Anglo. “You’re not supposed to be up here. It’s dangerous.”
Holly swallowed, then stepped up beside the spring. She glanced in the water, hoping to see Ohlan, but she saw only the hose.
“You can’t destroy the spring.”
The men exchanged a glance. The sandy-haired guy left his hammer and came toward her.
“Look, sorry, but we’ve got a job to do. You’re going to have to leave.”
She backed against the coffin, shaking her head. Her fingers brushed the edge of the concrete. Her heart was pounding.
“Don’t make us call the cops, kid.”
The Hispanic guy already had a cell phone in his hand, watching. This was not going well; she should have arranged for some kind of publicity. If she just got arrested and hauled away, she wouldn’t have done any good.
The sandy-haired guy came closer. Holly sat down on the coffin, gripping it with both hands.
The guy frowned, then sighed. “OK, what’s your name?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to talk to him; either of them.
“I’m Tony,” he said. “What’s the big deal? This is just an old lump of concrete.”
Holly pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to convince him, so why bother trying?
The worker walked back to his friend, who was talking on the cell phone. Holly bit her lip, then slid one hand down the inside of the coffin, reaching for the water. She leaned sideways and her fingertips just brushed it.
Ohlan?
Holly, go home!
She caught herself on a sob. Didn’t want the workers to think she was totally crazy. She looked down, glancing sidelong into the water. All she could see was the hose, coiled like a snake.
Where are you?
I’m safe. Please, go home. It’ll be all right.
Her throat tightened. No, it won’t!
The sandy-haired guy was coming back. Holly straightened and grabbed hold of the coffin’s edge again.
“The police are on their way. If you leave before they get here, you won’t be arrested.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t move. The worker squatted a few feet away, looking up at her.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “What are you after?”
“Saving the spring.”
“That thing? It’s an old broken-down concrete box. It’s going to disintegrate anyway.”
She swallowed. “It’s important. Historically.”
“You know, the Forest Service studied all of that. They spent a lot of money deciding what to do.”
Holly looked away. She probably knew more about the Forest Service’s studies than this guy did. Pointless to argue.
He tried a few more times to get her talking, but she kept her mouth shut. She was not going to let herself be coaxed away. She would stand by Ohlan if it was the last thing she did.
Before long—way too soon—she heard footsteps hurrying up the trail. A cop showed up at the edge of the glen, out of breath. The worker stood and backed away.
The cop was older, maybe her dad’s age. He walked slowly toward her.
“What’s the problem?”
Holly looked at the ground. Took a firmer grip on the coffin.
“She says she wants to save the spring,” the worker said.
The cop glanced at him, then back at Holly. He came closer, stopped right in front of her. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The government has a contract with these gentlemen. You can’t interfere.”
Holly stared at the cop’s knees. Her breath was short, and she knew her pulse was racing.
“Sweetheart, you have to move aside.”
She glared up at him. “I’m not your sweetheart!”
The cop sighed. “Don’t make me remove you, OK? Just stand up and step away.”
Holly shook her head, biting her lip. She was gripping the coffin so hard her fingers were going white.
The cop took hold of her elbow. She jumped up, wrenching her arm out of his grasp, and ran around the coffin, putting it between them. She stood there, panting, staring at the cop.
“Look, don’t do this. You really don’t want to do this,” he said. “You look like a nice kid. You don’t want to go to jail.”
“You don’t have a clue what I want!”
And if she hadn’t already convinced him she was nuts, that would do it. She saw him reach for his belt and a surge of terror went through her, but he just took out his radio.
She only half heard what he said into it; she caught “female officer” and “disorderly.” Beyond the cop, the two workers were watching, sledgehammers in hand. They were going to smash the spring the moment she stepped away from it.
She couldn’t let that happen. She wished she’d thought of a way to chain herself to the spring or something, but it was too late.
The cop put away his radio. “OK, kid. I’m sorry, but you’re out of time.”
He started around the spring toward her. Holly moved away, but she knew it was hopeless. He’d catch her, with the help of the backup he’d called for.
Standing at the foot of the spring, where she’d first seen Ohlan, she had only one thought. If she couldn’t protect the spring, she’d go down with it.
The cop’s muscles tensed. He was going to grab for her.
“No!” Holly screamed, and she flung herself into the coffin.