The Day the Ground Gave Way
My father’s voice sounded thin and annoyed through the satellite phone, like I’d interrupted him in the middle of something sacred instead of what it really was—a cosmetic consultation. “Stop being dramatic, Morgan. We are in the middle of a VIP consultation for your sister’s nose.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t just because the air at five thousand feet was razor-thin and laced with grit.
I was half-buried in a landslide, pinned in place by compacted mud and scattered rock, my legs twisted into an angle my orthopedic surgeon would later describe as “miraculously non-fatal.” Wind screamed around the fractured ridge above me, hurling shards of ice and dust against my helmet. But none of that compared to the image of my son crumpled on a linoleum floor three hours away. “Dad,” I choked out, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Listen to me. Noah is in anaphylactic shock. He’s at school.
The nurse needs you to authorize the EpiPen. Mom’s not answering her phone. They cannot inject him without a guardian.
You are ten minutes away. Just get in the car and—”
He sighed. Not a gasp.
Not an oh my God, is he breathing? A sigh. The same exasperated exhale he used when a waiter brought his cocktail with the wrong garnish.
“Morgan, really. You always overreact. The nurse can handle it.”
“She can’t handle it without your consent!” My throat scraped.
“Dad, he’s allergic to peanuts. He is blue. They need you to sign off on the injection.
Please. I am stuck on a mountainside in a mudslide. I cannot get to him.
You are down the street.”
There was a murmur of voices behind him—my mother’s bright laugh, my sister’s nasal whine, a plastic surgeon’s smooth baritone explaining bridge refinement. I could almost see them: my father in his tailored blazer, my mother in oversized sunglasses despite being indoors, Chinmayi studying her profile in a mirror. “Morgan, we are in the middle of something important.
You can’t expect us to just walk out. We have a consultation fee on the line. Don’t be selfish.”
Selfish.
The word hit me harder than the rock that had slammed into my ribs when the slope gave way. I stared up at the slab of gray sky visible between the jagged edges of the rockfall. Snowflakes drifted down, melting into the mud streaking my face.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
