“Here you go, son,” Trey said as he dropped the new fencepost into the freshly dug post-hole with a thump. He held it upright as his son began packing loose dirt back into the hole. Merek was his youngest, barely eight, but insisted on tagging along with the older men and helping. Trey often found, to his great pride, that Merek actually was more of a help than a hindrance. The bright-eyed, enthusiastic boy never seemed to run out of energy.

A short distance away, Bron, his oldest son, worked at digging the hole for the next post. Nearly an adult, he was lean and sinewy but a capable hand around the farm. Trey watched him work as Merek finished filling his hole and stomped the dirt down. The boy had grown up well, if he did say so himself. The older boy finished digging as he watched, stabbing the thin shovel into the dirt next to the newly dug pit and leaving it standing upright.

“You’re slowing down, Pops,” he said with a grin. “Try and keep up! We’ve got a lot more to do today.”

Although the banter was a good-natured jest, Bron was right. Yesterday’s hellish storm had knocked out several sections of fencing around the horse pastures, not to mention the hole in the roof of the farmhouse. Trey counted his family lucky. The burning rock had splintered that section of roof, punched a large hole in the side wall, and exited the house without setting the whole thing on fire. The stables themselves, miraculously, were unharmed. Had any of those balls of flame landed in the hay-lined barn, the horses would have been done for.

Despite their relative good luck, they still had some work to do. He had nailed old sheets across the holes to keep out the wind and leaves and headed for the fields with his sons to get the fence back up. Other than the thin plume trailing up from the smoking mountain, the sky was clear of clouds. With no sign of rain, the roof could wait a day so they could get the horses back out to pasture.

Two whistled notes pulled his attention back towards the farmhouse. His daughter Aylie was a couple years older than Merek, and every bit as energetic as her little brother. She held a small basket in one hand and a pitcher in the other. A loaf of bread jutted up out of the basket, giving away the girl’s mission before she announced it.

“Hi Daddy! Momma and me packed you some lunch!” Her face lit up with her proud smile. Just like her little brother, she loved to feel like she could contribute as much as a grown-up. And like her little brother, she was surprisingly capable of doing so. Or at least Trey saw it that way. It wasn’t often he found fault in his little ones.

“That’s very sweet Aylie, thank you,” Trey said, one hand resting gently on her head as he took the basked from her.

“And we’ve got the first batch of apple cider, too,” she beamed.

“That’s great, Aylie,” Bron said as he walked over and relieved her of the pitcher. “Want to have a picnic with us?” He doted on his little brother and sister almost as much as Trey did. Neither of them minded not getting a fence fixed if it meant a picnic in the field with a couple smiling imps.

Aylie clapped in delight at being invited to stay and feast with the boys, then spotted Bron lifting the pitcher to his lips.

“Hey! No!” she scolded. “There’s cups in the basket.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bron said, mouth turned down in a remorseful frown. His eyes were still crinkled in a smile, and his mouth turned right back up as he put the pitcher to his lips and took a swig anyways.

“Bron!” she yelled. “That’s not funny!”

“It kind of is,” he replied

“Quit stirring up your sister,” Trey cut in.

Bron lowered the pitcher but kept smiling as he sat down, poking his sister in the belly as he did and provoking a squealing laugh.

The others sat down as well. Trey pulled four wooden cups out of the basket and started pouring cider while Merek went for the bread. The loaf was already sliced, each cut not quite finished so the loaf would stay together but pull apart easily. He tore off the heel for himself and passed the loaf to his brother. Chunks of cheese from the picnic basket rounded out the light lunch.

Trey ate quietly, watching his children joke and laugh with each other. Despite the too-recent natural disaster, he was truly happy. But, happy or not, there was work to be done. After a short rest, it was time to get the boys moving again.

“That was delicious, sweetheart,” he thanked the happy girl. Bron and Merek mumbled agreement through mouths full of bread and cheese.

“Take this back to your mother for me, then if you want you can come help us with the fence.”

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“Yes!” She replied, jumping up immediately and picking up the basket. Aylie had never been afraid to get her hands dirty, and today did not look to be any different. She collected the cups from her brothers, waiting impatiently for Merek to finish his cider and deposit his cup in the basket. Then she picked up the empty pitcher and hurried back to drop off the remains of the picnic, eager to get back and show the boys that she could build a fence just as well as any of them.

“I’ll be right back!” she yelled over her shoulder as she ran.

Trey chuckled as he watched her go. “Alright boys, let’s get at it,” he said.

Bron and Merek stood and dusted the grass from their trousers as they headed back to the fence line. Trey headed to Bron’s new post-hole and picked up the heavy post lying nearby. Bron yanked the spade out of the ground and paced out the distance to the next spot to dig.

Trey was steadying the post in the new hole, Merek once again packing the dirt around it, when he heard the terrified scream.

“Daddy!” Aylie yelled. Trey looked up to see the girl barreling across the pasture, panicked. “Daddy help!”

Trey started jogging towards the little girl, concerned. She wasn’t one to be scared of spiders and mice. Bron and Merek stopped their work and stood watching.

“It got Mommy! Help!” She yelled, and Trey picked up the pace.

“What the Hell?” He heard Bron say behind him. “Merek, look out!”

Trey turned to see the ground give way beneath his youngest son. Merek fell as the grass and dirt sunk downward underneath him, the surface giving way as one foot sunk beneath the ground completely. Bron was already there, grabbing his brother and pulling him back up. Merek screamed as he pulled, the sound carrying more than just fear. There was pain in that yell.

Trey paused, torn. Bron saw his father stop, stuck with indecision between his two youngest children.

“I’ve got him. Get Aylie!” Bron yelled. Even as he said it, he had Merek up and running towards him. Bron followed behind his little brother.

Trey turned back towards his daughter. She was still only halfway across the pasture. He started to run again but had only taken two more steps when an explosion of dirt sprayed up just in front of Aylie. She screamed in horror at the broken ground and fell backwards. It was too far away to be certain, but Trey thought he saw something moving in the clumped earth.

He leaned into a full sprint now, desperate to reach his daughter. Aylie scrambled quickly to her feet and pumped her little legs as fast as they could carry her back towards the farmhouse. Behind him, Bron was egging his brother on faster. Trey glanced back over his shoulder and saw Merek racing towards him, Bron coming on behind but looking behind him while he ran.

Bron went down then, while Trey watched. Merek raced on, not realizing he had lost his rearguard. A quick look back showed Aylie on her feet and running, apparently unharmed. Trey stopped and reversed course again, heading for Merek and Bron. He reached Merek in seconds.

“Go, boy. Get to the house,” he ordered. The boy’s trousers were shredded at the ankle, long, bleeding scratches obvious on the exposed skin. Trey gave them only a glance in passing, then kept his eyes on his older son.

Several yards away, Bron was on the ground, clutching frantically at grass and roots. His body from the waist down was buried underground, and his torso was following fast. Confusion and fear filled his eyes as he looked to his father. Then he coughed, one time, and a spray of blood spewed from his mouth and nose. His eyes lost focus, his hands stopped their wild grab for purchase, and his head and arms dropped out of sight before Trey could grab a hand.

“Bron!” Trey yelled. “Oh god, no.” He stared in horror at the churned earth, the spray of his son’s blood pointing the way to the hole left by the boy’s descent.

Trey paused where he had dropped to his knees reaching for his son. Shock threatened to freeze him in place, but the thought of his two younger children overcame grief for the moment. He willed himself to move and sprung back to his feet, eyes searching frantically for his other two children.

Aylie had almost reached the farmhouse, still screaming. The door hung open, but despite the girl’s shrieks her mother was nowhere to be seen.

Merek was halfway across the pasture. As Trey forced himself back into action, he spotted the earth churning ahead of his son’s path.

“Merek! Watch the ground!” He yelled. Merek was too far away or too panicked to hear. As Trey ran desperately, a hole just wide enough for the boy to drop into opened in the boy’s path. Merek, eyes up and focused on his destination, never saw it. He stepped into empty air and went down, his momentum slamming him into the opposite side. He paused there for a moment, then dropped out of sight.

“No!” Trey cried. “Merek!” He reached the spot where the boy had vanished a few seconds later. The hole opened up into darkness, the daylight not penetrating more than a few inches into the void. “Merek!” he yelled into the pit. Only silence emanated from below. “Merek!” he yelled again, with the same result. His now desperate thoughts almost had him climbing headfirst into that hole when he heard Aylie’s scream from the house.

He looked up at the sound and saw the girl at the door, standing, a look of fear on her face. Then he realized she wasn’t standing, she was holding on. Her small hands gripped the doorframe, clinging, knuckles white and eyes wide with fear. Before Trey could even leap to his feet her body was pulled inward, leaving her hanging on the doorframe as if on the edge of a cliff. She held for only a second, but her small arms were no match for whatever had its hold on her. Her grip broke, and she disappeared into the house with a shriek.

A stabbing pain shot through Trey’s shoulder, as if pierced by several tiny knives. They dug into his skin, penetrating into his muscle, and yanked him backwards. A clawed hand covered his face and pulled his head back, forcing him down to the ground. More hands grasped at his legs, tearing cloth and skin. Sharp nails tore his shirt, tearing at his belly, opening the flesh. Mouths full of needled teeth closed on his exposed skin, gnawing and tearing as he screamed. Blinded by blood and talons ripping at his face, he couldn’t see his attackers as they dragged him headfirst over the ground, scratching and biting. Then the ground opened up beneath his head and shoulders and he was pulled down. What daylight filtered through blood-filled eyes went out as his body filled the tunnel above his head, and the silent earth muffled his last screams.