I’ll see you next weekend and we’ll finish exploring. Elowen hugged back fiercely. I want to come back, Maya said.
I could help in the butterfly garden. Sorin was more reserved but managed a small smile. The drone thing sounds cool.
After they climbed into the SUV, Drew approached Rachel. Quite the fantasy world you’ve found yourself in, he said. Just don’t get too comfortable.
Victor Hawthorne isn’t known for taking no for an answer, and he’s convinced this land is rightfully his. Is that why you’ve been talking to him about me, planning how to undermine my custody petition? I’m being practical, Rachel. A settlement with Teradyne would secure our children’s future better than this.
Experiment in communal living. You mean it would secure your future, Rachel retorted. What did he promise you? A finder’s fee, consulting contract, or just the satisfaction of watching me fail again? You always were naive, Drew sighed, turning away.
Some things never change. As the SUV disappeared down the access road, Rachel stood alone in the gathering desk, a familiar sense of powerlessness threatening to overwhelm her. But something had changed.
She was no longer the woman who had stood broken outside that courtroom. She had resources now, and responsibility not just to her children, but to this entire community. For two weeks, life at Hawthorne Haven fell into a rhythm that felt increasingly natural to Rachel.
Mornings began with community council meetings, followed by work with Graham on legal matters and learning the operational details of the trust. Afternoons often found her helping in the gardens or spending time with residents, absorbing their stories and skills. The custody petition had been filed with a preliminary hearing scheduled for the following month.
Rachel spoke with Sorin and Elowen Knightley via the satellite connection at the communications center. Their conversations growing warmer as the children’s excitement about Hawthorne Haven overcame the initial resistance Drew had fostered. Tonight, Rachel sat at the desk in the trustee cabin, reviewing the trust’s financial statements with growing astonishment.
Beyond the physical property and the trustee’s stipend, the trust held substantial investments, enough to ensure Hawthorne Haven’s operations for decades. Her grandfather had created something truly sustainable in every sense of the word. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
Ziri stood on the porch, camera in hand, expression troubled. Sorry to bother you so late, she said, but I found something concerning during my boundary survey today. She connected her camera to Rachel’s laptop, pulling up images of men in pteridine uniform examining the dam’s spillway structure.
The photos were clearly taken with a telephoto lens from a hidden position. They were measuring and taking water samples, Ziri explained. Rachel studied the images.
When was this? This afternoon, around three. I was photographing kingfishers when I spotted them. Did they see you? I’m pretty good at staying hidden when I need to.
Comes with the territory as a wildlife photographer. Rachel immediately called Jonah, who arrived within minutes, his face grim as he viewed the photos. This isn’t good, he said.
That’s the emergency release system. They have no legitimate reason be documenting that. Could they sabotage it, Rachel asked.
Jonah’s silence was answer enough. We need to increase security, Rachel decided. Zuri, would you be willing to set up some trail cameras along that boundary? Jonah, can we program the drones for night surveillance? Both agreed readily.
By midnight, they had implemented a makeshift security system. Trail cameras at strategic points, drones programmed for automated patrol flights, and a volunteer rotation for physical checks every four hours. I’ll take the first watch, Jonah offered.
Get some sleep, Rachel. We’ve done what we can for tonight. But sleep proved elusive.
Rachel lay awake, replaying Victor’s phone call in her mind. $5 million had seemed like an astronomical sum two weeks ago. Now, understanding the true value of the land and the community it supported, she recognized it for what it was.
An insultingly low offer designed to capitalize on her presumed desperation, the next day brought heavy rain, a summer storm that swelled the river and kept most residents indoors. Rachel met with Graham in the community center to discuss the boundary incursion. We should file a trespassing complaint, Graham advised.
Will that deter them, Rachel asked skeptically. Probably not, Graham admitted, but it creates legal leverage. More practically, I suggest we expedite the physical boundary marking project.
The trust allows for security measures. They spent the morning drawing up plans for property line reinforcement, a combination of fencing, natural barriers, and clear signage. By afternoon, the rain had intensified, drumming on the metal roof of the community center where residents had gathered for an impromptu movie screening for the children and board games for the adults.
Rachel was halfway through a game of chess with Miriam when her phone rang. Jonah, you need to come to the damn control station, he said, his voice tight with urgency. The rain had turned the paths to mud, but Rachel ran anyway, arriving breathless and soaked at the control building.
Inside, Jonah hunched over monitors displaying water level readings that pulsed an angry red, the levels are rising too fast, he explained. The automatic spillway should have opened, but it’s not responding. Could it be a mechanical failure? Rachel asked.
Possibly, but unlikely. We did a full system check last week. Jonah pulled up another screen showing a camera feed of the spillway itself.
Through the sheeting rain, they could see the gates remained closed despite the rising water. What happens if they don’t open? Eventually, the dam overtops, Jonah said grimly. At best, we lose power generation.
At worst, structural damage flooding downstream where most of the homes are located. Can they open it manually? Yes, but someone has to physically go to the spillway control mechanism. In this weather, that’s dangerous.
How long do we have? At this rate? Maybe two hours before rickety. What do you need? Jonah grabbed a waterproof tablet and a set of tools. Someone to assist on site while I try to override the system remotely.
I’m going with you, she interrupted. This is my responsibility too. They took the utility vehicle as far as they could, then continued on foot through the driving rain to the spillway structure.
A concrete edifice jutting from the dam face with a metal access door. Inside the mechanical room housed the manual override controls. Jonah examined the system.
The control arm is physically blocked, dot, this was deliberate. Rachel helped him remove the obstruction. Her hands numb with cold and fear.
Outside, the rain continued to pound, and the roar of water through the dam’s turbines had taken on a higher, more dangerous pitch. With the bar removed, Jonah attempted to activate the manual release. But the mechanism groaned and stuck.
Corrosion, he muttered. Can it be fixed? Not quickly enough. Jonah thought for a moment.
There’s another way, the emergency floodgates on the west side. They’re purely mechanical, no electronics to hack, no complex mechanisms to sabotage. Back into the storm they went, slogging through mud that sucked at their boots, making their way to the western edge of the dam where a secondary spillway waited.
A simple system of gates operated by a large wheel valve. It took both of them straining against the valve to start it turning. Inch by inch, the gates opened, and a powerful jet of water burst through, alleviating pressure on the main structure.
They continued turning until the valve would move no further. Will it be enough? Rachel gasped. Jonah checked the tablet, which showed the reservoir levels beginning to stabilize.
It should hold until the storm passes. Then we can assess the damage and properly repair the main spillway. As they made their way back to the control station, a new alarm sounded from Jonah’s tablet.
He stopped, staring at the screen in horror. The west embankment is showing signs of erosion, he reported. That release created more pressure than the bank can handle.
They changed course, heading for the western edge of the reservoir where the natural earthen embankment formed part of the containment system. Through sheets of rain, they could see water cutting through the soil, carving a channel that grew larger by the minute. If that breaks, everything downstream is in danger, Jonah shouted.
We need to alert the community, now. Rachel grabbed the emergency radio from the utility vehicle. Attention all residents, she broadcast.
This is an emergency evacuation notice. The west embankment is failing. Move to higher ground immediately…
Обсуждение закрыто.