by Polly Becks
The way it had been kept in the velvet pouch, and packed carefully with linen around it, Dave could tell it had great meaning to someone.
Someone most likely related to the muddy infant they had dragged from the garbage pile that lined what was serving as the new edge of the river, at least for the moment.
Dave Windsor carefully slid the bracelet back into its bag, wrapped in the linen as it had been. Then he rose from the table and made his way back into the dark office of the fire station.
He tried to snap on the light, then sighed, getting no satisfaction.
He went to the heavy safe, snapped on the light on his helmet, and carefully spun the dial, having to do so twice until the combination fell in line with a click.
Dave opened the door and put the bag inside the safe, far in the back behind the bank envelopes full of cash from Casino Night the prior week. The treasurer had not attended the meeting the previous night and had not made the deposit that week as a result.
That seems like a million lifetimes ago, he thought as he slammed the safe’s door closed.
Then he went out into the main room, gathered his coat and boots, suited up and went back out into the aftermath of the storm again.
Chapter 21
‡
11:07 PM
East Obergrande, out of the flood zone, west Tree Hill Park
THE NATIONAL GUARDSMAN finally found Lucy in a sheltered spot on the western side of Tree Hill with her wet Red Cross blanket, her eighth cup of coffee, and his flashlight. He crouched down and looked thoughtfully into her face.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I got back as quick as I could.”
Lucy nodded absently. “I’m sure you did, Sergeant. Thanks for coming back.”
Ace touched the blanket. “This thing is really wet. We should get you another one.”
She shook her head. “There are a lot of people who probably need a first one. I’m fine.”
“You still want to go to your house tonight?”
“Yes, please. I am hoping against hope that the cat made it out.”
“Will you be all right here for about ten to fifteen minutes, ma’am?”
Lucy, starting to succumb to exhaustion, nodded numbly.
“My car’s at Obergrande Fire House #2, which is just up the street a few blocks—”
“I know where it is,” she said flatly. “I take my class there every year for Fire Prevention Day.”
“Well, then you know how long it should take me to get there and back with the car.” He glanced around. “I’ve asked a few of the aid workers to keep an eye on you—”
“Thank you, Sergeant, but I’ll be fine,” Lucy interrupted. “I’ll wait here until you get back.”
“Right. I’ll hurry.” He disappeared into the darkness and the quiet chaos that was still milling about in the park and on the soccer fields of the school further to the south all these hours later.
Twelve minutes later he was standing over her again.
He reached down to her and took her hand, helping her to her feet.
“Come along, ma’am,” he said, his face as straight as ever. “Let’s go rescue the—er, other occupant of your house.”
Lucy’s face was the saddest he had ever seen.
“Not likely to find her alive, unfortunately,” she said softly. “As you’ve already heard, everyone who’s part of my family, everyone I love, has a tendency to die on me.”
11:14 PM
At the edge of the Flood Zone
IT ONLY TOOK seven minutes for Ace to get to the controlled zone, the area from the riverfront halfway up to Tree Hill Park, away from the quaint streets of the resort-like village of Obergrande to the residential area north of the park. The damaged area had already been cordoned off with saw horses and emergency tape, and contained more than eleven city blocks.
Obergrande was a community that gradually rose in a slanted elevation from the lake and riverfront, with the streets along the water rising in a stepped pattern, into the hillier parts of the village and town, until it met the steep hills of High Street and the Overlook, a cliff-like formation from which the town and its lake could be viewed fifty feet above the elevation of the city proper. Until the flood, the area beyond High Street had always been seen as a less desirable part of town, separated as it was from the flat lands.
Today, its height and slant made it seem to be the luckiest area of Obergrande.
Lucy’s house was just one street into the zone from the middle of town. She and Ace came to the barriers and stopped.
Throughout the zone, National Guardsmen, first responders and Red Cross staff were searching homes, particularly those closer to the waterfront that were still largely under water.
Ace had brought an electric lantern in addition to his flashlight, the batteries of which he had replaced upon getting out of the car. He followed Lucy to the barriers as she slowly came to a halt, staring at the disaster area.
A National Guardsman, a corporal, was patrolling the barricades.
“Are we going to be able to get in?” she asked nervously.
“I believe so. Technically I’m still on duty. And I outrank him.” His face remained straight. “Ma’am.”
In spite of her nerves, Lucy chuckled.
Ace waited at an opening until the soldier approached, then saluted.
“Sergeant Alex Evans, 3rd Battalion, 105th Infantry, National Guard, Saranac Lake, requesting entry. This is Miss Lucy Sullivan, who requests entry as well, in my company.”
The corporal saluted in return. “Yes, sir. Do you have specific business within the restricted area?”
“Miss Sullivan is a resident of this area, and she wants to make certain that her, er, housemate was evacuated.”
“Her housemate had limited mobility, then, sir?”
Lucy had to turn quickly to keep her face from giving her away.
Ace swallowed. “Yes. Difficulty opening doors.”
“Yes, sir.” The corporal saluted, again. Ace returned the salute, then accompanied Lucy to her house. She leaned close to him when they were out of earshot of the corporal.
“Nice save,” she whispered. “Sir.”
Ace looked down at her and smiled, but just kept walking.
They traveled through the darkened neighborhood, Lucy moving slowly, in shock at the sight of the once-familiar trees, broken and bent, the houses missing shutters and lawns where no grass remained, only puddles of mud. She could not bring herself to look too closely at the lower streets closer to the river, where most of the buildings were still submerged.
Finally she slowed her steps.
“My house is just up ahead,” she whispered.
“Would you like my arm?” Ace asked, offering it to her.
Lucy wasn’t listening. Instead she was staring ahead in the darkness at two people coming up the street. One was another soldier, dressed in fatigues, walking beside one of her neighbors and colleagues from the school.
Recognizable instantly by the white glowing hair that caught the light from the lantern the soldier was carrying.
“Mrs.—Mrs. Cox?”
The principal heard her name and stopped, then glanced around the street, finally seeing the light from Ace’s lantern.
“Who’s there?” she called up the street.
“It’s Lucy—Lucy Sullivan.”
Mrs. Cox, who was carrying what looked like several empty bags with handles, dropped them in front of her and began rapidly making her way up the street.
Lucy broke into a run, slipping through the mud next to the submerged sidewalk.
The two women met in front of Lucy’s house, a tiny two-story with a porch and a fenced, postage stamp-sized front yard, throwing their arms around each other.
For a long moment, they held each other in profound silence. Then Deb Cox spoke.
“Lucy, oh Lucy, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you,” Deb Cox said as tears streamed down her cheeks, still hugging Lucy tightly
. “You brave thing—you, you—you Amazon warrior—those five girls—”
“Please, no, Mrs. Cox,” Lucy said sincerely, returning the embrace. “I’ve had more than enough of that, please—I’m just glad everyone got out all right.”
Mrs. Cox went stiff in Lucy’s arms.
Lucy raised her head and looked up. “What? What is it?”
Deb Cox stared at her, immeasurable pain in her eyes.
“Omigod, Lucy—you—you don’t know, do you?”
The blood in Lucy’s veins began turning as cold as the water through which she had traveled. “Know what?”
Mrs. Cox glanced at Ace, then returned her gaze to the young teacher.
“Not—not everyone made it out, Lucy.”
Her cold blood froze; she could almost hear it crack. “What? Who? Who?”
“Carl Spinola at the bus garage,” Mrs. Cox said sadly. “He got caught in the path of the flood; he was outside before the alarm went off. Evie Cortwright, the custodian—her shift started just as the flood did. She was coming in from the parking lot. And—”
Her words ground to a halt.
Lucy just stared, waiting.
“Lucy,” Mrs. Cox said slowly, carefully, “Glen Daniels didn’t get out.”
Lucy’s face went slack. “Wha—what?”
The petite principal looked up at Ace again, then back at the shaking young teacher.
“He didn’t make it, Lucy. He was the first to see the floodwaters—amazing, given that his room doesn’t have a window—and he tried to call the office, but the phones weren’t working. We didn’t even know that there was a malfunction, or a flood, yet.”
Ace put his hand below Lucy’s elbow, ready to grip it as she swayed slightly.
“He must have packed those girls up on as high ground as he could find, probably told them to stay put, and ran out into the hall, looking for help,” Mrs. Cox continued. “He pulled every fire alarm, banged on doors along the eastern corridor, did everything he could, and tried to head back to his classroom, but—”
The principal choked, then broke down.
“If he hadn’t gone out into the corridor, who knows what would have happened? We probably would have lost every room on the lake side of the school, because the eastern corridor flooded so fast, and so deeply. Because of his actions, all the alarms went off at the fire station, so they knew to come immediately—”
She stopped as Lucy turned away, white and shaking.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Cox whispered. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
She looked back at the principal. “Did they—is his—body—?”
Mrs. Cox shook her head.
“So they could still find him, right?” Lucy’s eyes were starting to gleam with a manic light. “He—he might be—maybe he’s unconscious somewhere, hit his head or something—it’s dark, maybe he’s—”
“Lucy—”
The principal stopped, feeling nausea at the knowledge of the horrifying facts. She thought about sharing them, then looked once again at Ace, who shook his head. She turned back to Lucy.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “I—I came to get some of the—school backup documents from my house, for the—for—the obits—but my house—is—there’s nothing—left—”
Then she ran out of words and turned away, going back to her soldier escort.
Lucy turned away as well.
She walked unsteadily to the gate that was hanging, one hinge broken, in the fence that encircled her tiny front yard, and walked inside.
Ace followed her.
“Miss Sullivan?” he said softly.
She stopped in her tracks, as if unable to move.
The National Guardsman came to a halt behind her and waited.
Finally she turned around and stared out into the street.
“Was he family—friend—someone you loved?”
Lucy shook her head, the golden ringlets hanging in front of her face.
“No. None of those things.”
Ace’s brows drew together as his forehead wrinkled.
“No,” Lucy continued, talking to the air in front of her as her eyes grew glassy with building tears. “He—he was someone who worked with me for—three years, and until—yesterday, I had never given him the time of day. Instead of—making my—own damned judgments, instead of giving myself the chance—the privilege—to know him, I—I listened to the stupid, vicious gossip of the other teachers about him.”
She was starting to shake violently now, and Ace looked around again for someone with dry Red Cross blankets, but couldn’t see anyone in the controlled zone with one.
“He wasn’t just a nice man, it turns out,” Lucy continued, almost babbling now. “He was a hero in the end. Before that, he was kind, and thoughtful, and interesting, and funny, and a good person—and I managed to utterly ignore him for three years. I managed to entirely forget about him until now—it never even occurred to me to ask why those girls were alone. You know why, Sergeant? You know why? Because, unlike him, I am not a good person.”
Her legs gave out from under her, and Lucy Sullivan collapsed onto her knees on the muddy ground that had once been her front lawn.
Ace Evans looked around, still hoping to find someone to provide a dry blanket, then crouched down in front of her.
“Well, you’re right about that,” he said. His tone was hollow and emotionless.
Lucy looked up at him.
“A good person would not have ignored someone sent to help her,” the soldier continued. “A good person would have listened when a member of the United States military told her to not to go back into a flooding school, to evacuate, and would have done so, quickly and quietly.”
Lucy’s already distraught face grew even sadder, as if she had been kicked in the stomach. “You don’t need to tell me what a bad person I am, Sergeant. I already know it.”
Ace leaned a little closer, still in his crouch.
“With due respect, ma’am,” he said seriously, “that’s crap.”
Lucy blinked.
Sergeant Evans paused, as if gathering his thoughts. When he spoke, his dark eyes were gleaming intensely, and he spoke carefully, as if the words were heavy and important.
“You didn’t think about him because you were in shock, just like everyone else was, and your brain was in survival mode. But, even then, you knew there were five little girls in a music room, a room with no windows, no other exits, and, at fairly serious risk to yourself, you went back inside to make sure they got out. You could have left that to us, but you chose to take that risk. While the trained rescuer in me doesn’t particularly appreciate it, the rest of me recognizes that you are an extraordinary person, not just a good one.
“And, if that wasn’t enough to prove it, you managed to keep your head about you for the sake of those kids, to not panic when they balked, to talk to them cheerfully, to be strong for them when I’m sure you were terrified yourself. Here’s the truth, Miss Sullivan—those girls would have drowned before the firefighters, or the Guard, or the Red Cross got to them if you hadn’t gone back.”
Ace’s eyes gleamed in the dark.
“In the Guard, the term we use for someone like you is badass, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a high compliment.”
He took a breath, as if the words were getting even heavier.
“This has been no ordinary day—but, because of extraordinary people, like you, it will not be the last day for this broken town. As bad as it seems now, you will rebuild, and life will go on here.”
He stood, rising into a crisp military stance.
Lucy stared at him for a long time, no sound but the muffled noise of the other guardsmen standing watch and patrolling the streets in the distance and the gusts of the wind, finally dry. Then she lowered her head and shook it, smiling.
“Those were more words than you’ve ever said at the same time in your life before, weren’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked up and met his gaze again. “Anything else you want to say?”
The soldier thought for a moment. “What happened yesterday?”
Lucy’s forehead wrinkled.
“You said until yesterday you had never given Mr. Daniels the time of day.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“So what happened yesterday?”
She exhaled, deeply and raggedly.
“He asked me to dinner and, even though I really didn’t want to go, I sucked it up and went with him. And, guess what?—I had a wonderful time. Dinner was great. Afterwards, he walked with me, in between bouts of rain, to the top of Tree Hill and showed me how to listen to the music of the tree, of the town, of the Adirondacks. Then he gave me—oh, my God.” Her voice broke.
Concern colored the soldier’s face. “What?”
It took a moment for Lucy to collect herself. “His umbrella. He let me keep his umbrella so I wouldn’t get wet walking back to my car after the meeting. He walked back to his own in the rain. I didn’t bring it inside this morning—I didn’t get to give it back to him.”
“He was looking forward to seeing you again to get it back.”
Lucy looked even sadder. She said nothing more.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ace said. He looked in the direction of the flooded side of town. “I imagine you’ve heard that too many times in your life.”
She nodded silently.
“You made his last day a happy one. That has to count for something.”
“Is there anything else you want to say?” Lucy’s tone was bitter.
Ace exhaled. “Let’s go find your cat.”
Chapter 22
‡
“I’M GONNA CHECK the basement,” Ace said as they approached the little house. He jogged around the side, squatted down in the muddy grass, and peered through the window near the ground, then stood up easily and headed back to where Lucy was standing at the bottom step leading up to the front porch.
“It’s full of water,” he said regretfully. “Sorry—I doubt anything down there survived, including the furnace.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Lucy said dully, starting up the porch stairs.
“Well, summer’s coming,” Ace said, following her up the stairs. “Uh—do you have a key?”
