Cutter

by Laramie Briscoe

  I wish I was as confident as Tucker. It’s almost as if nothing shakes or spooks him. I know it does, but he doesn’t show it.

  The noise of the TV in the background reminds me of why we’re here in the first place.

  Hurricane Tatum is churning in the gulf, taking aim at the coast. Those of you in Gulf Shores and Orange Beach are under mandatory evacuation. We are looking at a landfall somewhere over the next twelve hours. Outer rain bands are already making their presence known. Mobile, watch out for storm surge in the bay. Flooding will be a major impact of this storm. Right now, Tatum is at a Cat 4, and the waters are warm. We’re predicting she’ll intensify into a Cat 5 before she makes landfall. The time for preparation is over. You’ve either evacuated or you’ll need to shelter in place. Please be aware that rescue may not be possible.

  “Why wouldn’t you evacuate?” I whisper as I watch the huge storm on TV.

  “Some people can’t afford it.” He nods to Major. “Some people have dogs that are more family than pet and they aren’t allowed to take them into shelters. After Katrina that was supposed to have been stopped, but I’ve heard of people being turned away with a pet, so they stay. Others are scared to leave their homes because they’re afraid they’ll never see them again. There are numerous reasons.”

  I look over at Tucker, my eyes wide open. “I guess you’re right. I never thought about it that way.”

  “It’s cool, you haven’t had a ton of life experience yet. Once you’ve dealt with a few disasters, you’ll be able to figure out when you need to panic, and when you don’t. More often than not, I try to temper my reactions. The quicker I react, the worse I seem to take it. It’s important to give it the attention it needs, but not to let it overtake your entire life. You’ll learn.”

  The sigh that comes from my throat is more frustrated than bored. “Everybody says that.” I flop back on the bed. “When am I going to stop being the guy who lost his scholarship and came back home with his tail tucked between his legs?”

  “When you stop letting that shit define you, Cutter. You’re so much more than that, but until you start seeing yourself differently, no one else is going to see you differently.”

  I think about what he says. “It was the biggest failure of my life,” my voice is soft as I admit what many perceive as my shame. “To know I had everything right here.” I hold out my hand, my palm facing upward. “And I fucked it up.”

  “That’s one of the best things you can do, admit you made a mistake. You can come back from it, Cutter. At some point, if you keep showing up, people will realize you’re showing up.”

  “I just always feel like I’m compared to Ransom.” I run a hand through my hair. “Wife, kid, dog, I fuckin’ can’t even compete with that. Can’t even keep a damn plant alive, much less a pet or another human being.”

  “You really think that?” Tucker looks over at me, his eyebrows scrunched together. The disbelief in his voice surprises me. “You think people compare you to Ransom?”

  “Oh, I know they do.”

  I can distinctly remember when Stelle and Ransom got married. Mom pulled me aside and said something along the lines of you can only hope to find a woman like this. Which brought back all the memories of what happened.

  “No, they don’t,” Tucker argues. “If anything, people admire you.”

  “That’s bullshit. You and I both know it.”

  “It’s not bullshit. You’ve overcome a lot, my man. Most people would have put their head in the sand and never lifted it out after what happened to you. It took a lot of heart and determination to become the man you are now. You didn’t let it make you bitter, but you have to make sure to forgive yourself for it, Cutter. You didn’t know.”

  Now I’m interested in how he knows. “What do you mean I didn’t know? Has someone talked to you about what happened to me?”

  Tucker’s face drains of color, and I know someone has. “Ransom and I spend a lot of time together.”

  “Don’t defend him.” I sit up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. “That wasn’t his story to tell.”

  “Sometimes the ones you think aren’t affected, are. Maybe he had issues with what happened to you, Cutter. Maybe he felt like it was partially his fault. Did you ever think he feels partially responsible?”

  “How? Why?” This makes no sense to me. What happened to me, happened to me, no one else.

  “Those are questions you should ask your brother, but I promise you, you aren’t in this alone. You never were.”

  I’m not sure I want to know the answer to those questions. My mind is swirling as I lie back against the pillows. I want nothing more than to sleep, but as I hear the wind picking up outside, I know sleep won’t come. This may very well be the longest night of my life.

  The storm coming ashore doesn’t compare to the one I have raging inside my head and my heart.

  Chapter Two

  Rowan

  Devastation.

  I’ve felt it before. You don’t bury your four-year-old daughter and not feel it. But this? This is destruction.

  “Isn’t that where The Juke Box used to be?”

  I nod, listening to my brother, Sullivan, list off places that used to be on Main Street in our small town of Paradise Lost, Alabama. Everywhere the eye can see, there’s debris and water. So much water.

  I’m standing in ankle-deep sludge as we speak. The rain is still coming down, but not as hard as it was hours ago. Thank God for rain boots; without them, I’d probably be risking some sort of waterborne illness no one has discovered yet.

  “Should we start going door-to-door?”

  He looks down at me, a harsh look on his face. “First of all, little sister of mine, I’m the police, you’re an EMT. If anybody will start going door-to-door before this storm’s over, it’s gonna be me. Second of all, we haven’t been given the go ahead. Honestly, we should still be sheltering.”

  I know he speaks the truth, but I can’t stand to be waiting.

  Waiting to see what’s going to happen.

  The same way I waited for my daughter to die.

  I’m a woman of action, and this goes against every single part of who I’ve become since that awful day.

  “Does that mean I have to get back inside?” I point to the fire station I’ve been staged at.

  “I could arrest you if you don’t.” He gives me a grin.

  “I’d fight you.”

  “Resisting arrest,” he laughs. “Keep adding charges.”

  I roll my eyes dramatically. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “You’re a pain in my whole body,” he retorts. “But get in there. We still got a few hours of this shit to go. I’ll be back to check on y’all later.”

  “Be safe.” I reach over to wrap my arms around him.

  “You too, if you need anything, you know how to get hold of me.”

  Slowly, I walk back over to the fire station, not wanting to go back in. Since the incident, I’ve always wanted to see things coming at me head on. If there’s a storm, I’m outside watching it. If I go to the doctor, I ask them not to ease into any bad news. I want to know. If I can see it coming, I can prepare.

  Surprises?

  Those are the things that I can’t prepare for, and they’re my biggest fear.

  I get to the door, but before I walk in, I look back out at the street, seeing Sullivan with his neon vest. Reaching down, I grab the necklace I always wear. Lifting it up to my lips, I kiss the metal circle.

  In my mind, I say my wish. Etta, please keep Uncle Sullivan safe. Love you!

  She’ll never hear me say those words again, but I think them a hundred thousand times throughout the day.

  “How bad is it?”

  My partner, Isaac, didn’t want to see the destruction, not yet. He’s the type who has to prepare himself. I’m the realist, he’s the optimist.

  “Bad,” I answer. “There’s only two buildings standing on this street, and we’re obviously in one of the
m. The water has done a lot of damage too.”

  Luckily the fire station is on a hill and has been spared most of the flooding, but we still have high tide to go, and we’re out of sandbags.

  He sighs. “I guess we should go watch the weather.”

  I groan. We’ve done nothing but watch the weather for over a week. Ever since this storm became one to keep ann eye on. “I’d much rather be out helping people.”

  “Same, but we’re supposed to wait for the okay.”

  Meaning we have to wait for the governor to tell us it’s okay to leave our shelter. The only people allowed out now are military and police.

  “It’ll be our time to shine soon.” He rubs at the back of my neck.

  How do I explain it’s not even about shining? I don’t do my job for the thank you; I do it for the victims who needed help and didn’t get it.

  Instead of answering him, I walk over to the cot that’s been designated mine and take a seat. If I have to wait, I might as well try to get some rest. As soon as we’re released, the work will be non-stop.

  The sound of an alarm wakes me up. I’m groggy, trying to find my balance as I push myself up from the cot. My mouth almost refuses to work as I try to get words out. “Are we clear?” I shout out, I don’t know who I’m asking, but I’m hoping someone answers.

  “We’re clear.” I hear Isaac’s voice behind me. “And we’ve got a scene to get to.”

  He puts something in my hands. Immediately I know they’re my glasses. “Thank you!”

  “I know how you are when you first wake up. Put ‘em on and get yourself situated. A building has collapsed, and there’s a lot of injured.”

  Immediately I feel my adrenaline spike.

  This is what I live for. The satisfaction of helping someone. Of knowing in their darkest hour, I can save them.

  Because I couldn’t save her.

  Instead I save them.

  We run to our ambulance, along with the firefighters sprinting to their engines.

  “Follow us!” They shout. “The water is still high; we’ll make way for you.”

  My heart pounds as the bay doors open and we tuck in behind the first engine. They weren’t wrong. The water is flood-worthy, but we have to do what we have to do. I’m hanging onto the handle over the door.

  “Whatever you do, don’t stop pressing the gas.” I lift my feet up as some water seeps into the sides of the ambulance.

  “I got this.” Isaac grips the wheel, holding it steady, breathing easier as we head further inland.

  The water still surrounds us, but not nearly as much as we were just in.

  Once we break free, he slams the pedal to the floor, following behind, as we make our way to the building.

  I try not to look at what’s surrounding us, but I can’t help it. Many places of my hometown are no longer standing. I want nothing more than to check on my parents, but last time I pulled my phone out, I had no service. Who knows when that’ll come back online.

  “Do you think it’d be bad if I radioed dispatch to see if they can get info on my parents?”

  “I was about to ask the same question to you,” Isaac laughs. “I want to make sure Britt and Justin are okay.” He mentions his wife and son. “I know they bunkered down at my in-laws and they should be fine, but I’d really like to know.”

  “We’ll wait and see if someone else does it first.”

  Nobody wants to be the first one to ask a favor like that when there are definitely casualties and lots of people now without a home.

  “Shit, there’s a lot of debris up here.” He whistles as he slows the ambulance down substantially.

  We’re picking our way through pieces of trees, homes, and who knows what else as we try to get to the collapse that called for paramedics. When it comes to a stop, one of the firefighters comes back to us. “We’ve got a large tree blocking the road. We’re gonna need to cut it before we can get through.”

  Again, waiting is something I can’t do.

  Unbuckling, I get out of the ambulance, going around to the back.

  “What are you doing?” Isaac yells. “Ro, what the fuck?”

  I’ve grabbed a go bag and gotten what I can carefully fit in it.

  “I can’t wait around here knowing there are people who need our help. You stay with the rig and I’ll go on. I don’t mind walking.”

  “I’m not letting you go alone,” he argues.

  “That’s cool.” A deep voice says behind me. “I’ll go with her.”

  Turning, I see someone I don’t know. But he wears an EMT uniform that signifies he’s part of the Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team. We’d heard they’d be coming to help us.

  “My partner, Tucker, is waiting with our caravan. A few of us are walking ahead to triage. She’s okay with us.” He gestures to a group of men, and a few women. “We’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  This man. He’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Tattooed, sure of himself, tall, and strong.

  “See, I’ll be fine.”

  Even if I’m not, I know how to take care of myself.

  Isaac nods. “See you when I get there.”

  “Don’t take too long,” I joke.

  “Let’s go,” I tell the guy who offered to walk with me.

  “After you.” He gestures ahead with his hand.

  “Thank you for offering to go with me, he wouldn’t have let me go. We’ve been partners since we started, and he’s super protective. Like an older brother, of which I already have two.”

  “No problem, I’m a younger sibling too, so I understand how it goes.”

  “So annoying.” I shake my head.

  He puts his hand on my arm, effectively stopping us. “I’m Cutter, just in case you need me later.”

  “Rowan.” I don’t add a caveat. Something tells me, almost every woman Cutter comes into contact with needs him later.

  And me? Well I’m just not that kind of girl.

  But fate? It has a really funny way of pushing us where we need to go, not where we want to.

  Chapter Three

  Cutter

  This woman beside me, walking into what could equate to the belly of the beast, doesn’t look like she’s prepared for it. Rowan, such a regal name for such a small lady. Glasses cover her hazel eyes. Dark hair is up in some sort of knot on top of her head. She barely comes to my collarbone, doesn’t look like she weighs much either, I could probably pick her up and put her over my shoulder.

  Not that I’m going to do it, but I’m trying to make a point.

  The silence, it’s killing me.

  “Are you from here?” I ask as we trudge through sticks, leaves, and who knows what else.

  “Born and raised,” she answers. “First situation I’ve ever been through like this, though. You?”

  “I came down from Laurel Springs with the LSERT as part of the mutual aid team.” I point to the insignia on my shirt.

  “Thank you for coming, obviously we need all the help we can get.”

  I don’t like the way she says these words. It’s almost as if she’s thanking me for doing something big. This isn’t big, it’s what we signed up for. To help others.

  “You don’t need to thank me.” I hold a tree limb back for her. “I knew what I was getting into when I joined. The last twenty-four hours have been something else though.”

  “Right?” She throws a grin at me. “I’ve never been equal parts scared and energized like that before in my life.”

  “I didn’t know whether to take cover in the bathroom or run right out into it and immediately try to help,” I agree. “There was something about listening to the ferociousness of it, but feeling the energy coming from it. I’ve never felt those before at the same time.”

  Even though it’s dark, our eyes meet, illuminated by the flashlights both of us are carrying.

  She licks her lips, her breathing slightly heavy. “Exactly.”

  We share a moment. Being the man I am, I’m not sure w
hat kind it is. I’ve never been able to read women well, but there’s a jolt of something between us. I can tell when she feels it, because she turns away from me.

  “We should get going.”

  Her voice sounds almost disappointed.

  I am disappointed. Even in the situation we’re dealing with, I want to know more about what we just shared, but it’s not the time.

  For me it’s never the time.

  Five minutes we walk in complete silence, until we can hear people milling about and shouts of needing help. We look at one another, both picking up the pace. We’re close when a large tree blocks our way.

  “How are we going to get over it?” she pants, holding onto her side.

  “However we can.”

  Gauging the distance, I move a little farther back, then take off at a run, pumping my arms and legs. I haven’t run like this since my days on the football field. It feels amazing.

  When I estimate I’m close enough, I push off with my feet, jumping high enough to grab hold on the top part of the log. I grunt as I pull myself up.

  “Fuckin’ pull-ups paid off.” I shake my head, thinking of my dad and always telling us to do pull-ups.

  Turning around, I see Rowan looking at me, her eyes wide, mouth open in the light she holds in her hands.

  “Come on, you’re wasting time. I’ll lift you up, but you have to get a good running start.”

  This is it. The moment when I think she’ll bow out and tell me she can’t do this. It’s what most women would do in her position, at least in my experience. But not Rowan, she puts her pack securely on her back, goes to where I started running, and takes off toward me. Her arms and legs are pumping so fast I almost don’t see them.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” I encourage her. “Faster, just a little faster!”

  Right when she gets to the part where I know she’s got to let it fly, I scream. “Jump now!”