Dead in the Water

by Denise Swanson

  “You’ll be sorry you treated me this way,” she screamed. “I’m going to talk to the mayor about your cavalier attitude.”

  “Join the crowd,” Wally muttered, getting into his squad. “Join the crowd.”

  After canceling the county call for backup, Wally began his patrol of the town’s streets. When the rain started up again, the windshield wipers nearly hypnotized him. His eyelids drooped and he powered down the window, hoping the air and droplets blowing in his face would keep him awake.

  He was tired and hungry. Maybe after the next loop around downtown, he’d go through the McDonald’s drive-through and get something to eat. Or, better yet, he could stop at his own house for dinner.

  The roads were quiet. Folks must have decided to stay home because of the weather. Even the bars along the main drag were empty. Everyone must have been hunkered down waiting for the storm to pass.

  Having made the decision to take his meal break at home, Wally steered the cruiser out of the business district. He crossed over the river and made a left. Now that he was on the edge of town, there were no streetlights, and he could see only a few feet ahead on the narrow asphalt.

  A right turn on Brooks Road and Wally was less than a mile from his house. He had just reached for the radio, intending to tell May he would be out of service for the next thirty minutes, when he spotted a Chevy Silverado parked on the shoulder.

  The pickup didn’t have on its emergency lights, and the rear end was sticking out onto the blacktop. If the driver couldn’t be located, Wally would have to call and have the truck towed.

  Sighing, Wally pulled the cruiser behind the Chevy and studied the scene. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the Silverado, but he couldn’t see fully into the cab from where he sat.

  Keying the radio, Wally said, “I’ve got a vehicle stopped alongside Brooks Road near Rood. The plate is muddy and I can’t see it from here. I’m getting out to take a closer look.”

  After May acknowledged his transmission, Wally exited the squad car, easing the door shut without a sound. He unsnapped his holster and rested his hand on his weapon.

  Wind rustled the cornstalks in the fields on either side of the road. The rain held the scent of fresh earth and a trace of smoke. Where was that coming from? It was too hot for anyone to have their fireplace going, and the weather was too bad for a bonfire.

  The moon was hidden by a huge bank of low-lying clouds and the night sky was completely dark. The cruiser’s headlights illuminated the area immediately behind the pickup and Wally moved forward until he was a few steps from the Chevy’s rear bumper.

  He trained his flashlight’s beam on the license plate, but it was still too obscured to read. As he reached out to wipe off the mud, his radio crackled to life and Wally straightened.

  “10–75!” May screamed. “A twister just made an unexpected turn and is heading this way. It’s less than five minutes out. I’m going into the basement. You need to find shelter.”

  “Is Charlie with Skye?” Wally asked. His heart thudded and fear formed a sour ball in his stomach.

  The radio was silent and Wally heard the tornado siren blaring. His pulse pounded in his ears. What if Skye was asleep and didn’t hear the alarm? Could he make it home?

  He had to. There was no way he was leaving the welfare of his wife and child to anyone else.

  Chapter 3

  “Run for the cellar!”

  —Aunt Em

  Skye, Justin, and Frannie were just finishing their ice-cream sundaes when the alarm sounded. Skye froze, the last spoonful of caramel-topped vanilla goodness a millimeter from her lips. Shoot! Was that really the tornado siren? They should have had the radio on.

  The three of them stared at one another for a nanosecond, then Skye blinked, jumped to her feet, and ordered, “Get into the basement and stay away from the windows.”

  Justin and Frannie stared at her.

  “There.” Skye pointed to a closed door between the trash can and the cat-food bowl. “Move your butts!”

  As she rushed into the sunroom to grab Bingo, she yelled, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Even though it was a tight fit for a feline of his bulky proportions, the black cat had managed to wedge himself beneath the sofa. And with the law of cat inertia—a cat at rest will remain at rest—how in the world was she going to get him out from under there? With her ginormous baby bump, if she got down on her knees, she’d never get up.

  Treats! He’d come out if he heard the rustle of the package. Of course, that was how he’d become the size of a small Saint Bernard.

  Skye grabbed a bag of Temptations from the end-table drawer, perched on the edge of the chair next to the couch, and called, “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  Nothing. Why was it that neither teenagers nor cats came when you called them?

  Fear clogging her throat, Skye shook a few treats into her hand and tried again. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  A long moment later, Bingo’s head emerged from under the couch. He narrowed his golden eyes and refused to budge. When Skye crinkled the package, he crept forward, but in order to escape the tight confines of his haven, the cat had to do a military crawl.

  The black cat looked as if he were emerging from a foxhole and she swallowed a giggle. If Bingo thought she was laughing at him, he’d return to his hideout.

  Finally, assured that she wasn’t offering him anything remotely healthy, Bingo stepped closer. As soon as he dipped his head to nibble on a treat, Skye thrust out her right arm and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He yowled and tried to twist away, but she held the squirming cat’s back flush to her chest with both hands, hoping to avoid his claws.

  The tornado siren continued to shriek as she jogged, okay, waddled, across the hallway. Justin and Frannie were still in the kitchen, rather than going into the basement as she had instructed. Not that she was surprised. The pair had rarely followed her recommendations when she was their school psychologist; why would they do what she told them to now that she was only their friend?

  “Forget the lecture.” Justin snatched the wiggling feline from her arms and shoved him into a black canvas case. “We found Bingo’s carrier in the broom closet, and we weren’t leaving you up here alone.”

  “Come on.” Frannie seized Skye’s wrist and dragged her toward the basement. “The air feels funny and the sky’s gotten all green.”

  “Wait.” Skye dug in her heels. “We need the emergency radio.”

  It was sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and as she turned to get it, with Frannie still hanging on to her arm, the front door slammed.

  They all looked toward the hallway.

  “Skye, where are you?” Wally’s anxious voice accompanied the sound of running footsteps. “Sugar, are you all right? Answer me!”

  Wally’s frantic shout jolted Skye out of her trance, and she called out, “We’re in the kitchen.”

  When he raced into the room, Skye broke free from Frannie’s grasp and threw herself into his arms.

  “Basement!” Wally was breathing heavily as he herded Justin and Frannie down the steps, then half dragged, half carried Skye right after them.

  “Under the pool table,” Wally ordered, dropping to his knees and helping Skye down to hers. “Everyone move, move, move!”

  Pushing Skye, Justin, and Frannie beneath the old pool table, he grabbed a laundry basket full of linens from the top of the washing machine and tossed it to them.

  Joining the trio, Wally ordered, “Wrap yourselves in the towels and sheets. Use everything. Make sure your face and any exposed skin is covered.”

  “Protect Bingo’s carrier, too,” Skye called out, fearful for her pet.

  Wally pulled Skye into his arms and quickly surrounded her stomach with towels, then draped sheets and blankets around them both.

  Skye snug
gled against her husband’s chest, grateful for the miracle of his presence. As she took a moment to catch her breath, she said a prayer of thanks.

  From her unique perspective—she didn’t usually sit on the basement floor—she noticed that the concrete cinder blocks near the ground were stained and uneven. Maybe when she was home on maternity leave, she’d find someone to come in and renovate down here.

  As it was now, they used the basement only for laundry and storage. The pool table had been there when Skye inherited the house, and although it was unusable in its present dilapidated condition, it had been too expensive to restore and too heavy to haul away. Tonight, she was glad she’d kept it. At least it provided them with another layer of protection.

  Suddenly, it started to hail. The sound of frozen missiles hitting the basement windows was earsplittingly loud, and Skye’s head began to throb.

  Putting her lips to Wally’s ear, she raised her voice and asked, “How did you get here so fast?”

  “I was coming home for supper when your mom radioed me that a tornado was headed this way. I was less than a mile down the road.” Wally smoothed a hand down Skye’s hair and said, “Don’t worry. Your mom went into the PD’s basement right after she alerted me.”

  “We’re definitely in the tornado’s path?” Skye shuddered, cold sweat gluing her T-shirt to her back. What about all of her relatives and friends and students who were in danger? Had they taken cover?

  Skye hoped that, like so many other times, this was a false alarm. In the past, when neighboring communities had tornadoes wreak havoc in their municipalities, Scumble River had always somehow managed to escape unscathed. Evidently, her hometown’s luck had run out.

  As the power went out and the basement was plunged into darkness, Wally tightened his arms around her and said, “Afraid we’re in for it, darlin’.”

  Skye’s scalp prickled. She turned her head toward her friends and screamed, “Are you two all right?”

  She couldn’t see Frannie and Justin, and she was barely able to hear their assurances over the noise of the hail and wind. Chills chased up and down Skye’s spine. It felt as if the storm were sucking the electricity from the walls of the house and leaving something evil in its place. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end, her heart raced, and she cradled her stomach. Would her baby be okay?

  As her ears popped, Skye flinched. Suddenly the wind and hail stopped. Then, just as she thought they’d been spared, the wind returned and she could feel the walls of the house vibrating.

  Wally tucked her head into his chest and said, “I love you more than anything.”

  “Being married to you these past eight months has been the happiest time of my life.” Skye pressed a kiss to his chest. “No matter what happens, I’m glad we’re together for this.”

  Wally tightened his grip on her and braced them both. There was a deafening roar, followed by a thunderous rushing sound, and Skye clutched her belly, praying for them all.

  Chapter 4

  “The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we do?”

  —Dorothy

  Skye’s eyelids flew up and she wasn’t sure whether she’d dozed off or fainted. She extended her hand in the darkness. Had it been a nightmare?

  No. She wiggled her butt. It felt like she was sitting in a bathtub. She reached down. There was at least six inches of water beneath her.

  It was all coming back to her. She was huddled under the old pool table in her basement with Frannie, Justin, and Wally. And she was pretty darn sure their house had been hit by a tornado.

  The previously deafening roar was now silent and the only sound she heard was water dripping from the ceiling. With a final squeeze, Wally released her. At the loss of his warmth, a chill swept over her and her teeth chattered.

  Suddenly, the beam of a flashlight illuminated the area and Skye blinked. Wally would have had the Maglite on his duty belt and it was clear he was using it to inspect the situation and formulate a plan. Reaching out, she grasped his leg and he immediately scooted in front of her.

  “Are you and the baby okay, sugar?” Wally’s voice was husky.

  “I think so.” Skye didn’t mention the Braxton-Hicks contractions, which had started up again. They’d probably be gone in a few minutes. She was sure that once she got up and stretched, she’d feel better. “How about you?”

  “Other than a wet rear end, I’m fine, sweetheart.” Wally swept the flashlight beam over Justin and Frannie. “You two hurt?”

  “Nope.” Justin had his arm around Frannie, who was holding the cat carrier on her lap. “And despite his complaints, Bingo’s okay, too.”

  As the cat’s indignant meows rang in her ears, Skye blew out a relieved breath. She’d been afraid that, in the commotion, Justin might have forgotten about him. Although the water wasn’t high enough for Bingo to drown, at his age, getting soaked might have the same result.

  “Is it safe to get out?” Frannie asked, plucking at the damp material of her jean shorts.

  “Whether it is or not, we need to leave.” Wally helped Skye crawl out from beneath the table. “I’m afraid it’s dangerous to stay here.” He took both her hands and raised her to her feet. “This is an old house and I think it took a direct hit.”

  “Time to bounce.” Justin nudged Frannie, and using the illumination Wally’s flashlight provided, they joined Skye and Wally.

  Frannie held the cat carrier against her chest and cooed to the fussing feline.

  As the four of them trudged through ankle-deep water to get to the staircase, odds and ends that had accumulated for the past hundred years in the basement floated by them. When Skye had inherited the house, she’d never fully cleared out the attic or the cellar, and the debris hitting her legs was from another era.

  She absently noted that a tattered Spiegel catalog, a veiled hat, and a plastic box full of McCall dress patterns were drifting through the dark water. How many vintage treasures were now destroyed?

  “How bad do you think it is?” Skye asked Wally, hanging on to his arm.

  “We’ll soon see.” Wally grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but nothing happened. He shoved at the unyielding wood with his shoulder and grimaced. Turning to Justin, he said, “It’s stuck. Get up here with me and see if our combined strength will move it.”

  The two men managed to create a small opening, and as the skinniest of the four, Justin wiggled through it. Skye heard the sound of something dragging across the kitchen floor, and then the gap widened.

  Wally passed Skye and Frannie through first, then joined them. As Skye stared upward, rain pelting her face, she clasped her husband’s hand and gasped. Instead of the ceiling, clouds rolled over her head. The second and third floors were completely gone.

  A weight pressed on Skye’s chest and she couldn’t catch her breath. The house she had inherited and painstakingly repaired had disappeared, as had the nursery that she and Wally had lovingly decorated and furnished. It was too much. Skye whimpered, hugged her stomach, and wept.

  She knelt on the debris-strewn tile and sobbed. “It’s gone. It’s all gone.”

  “Everything will be all right, darlin’,” Wally murmured into her ear as he gently drew Skye to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “The four of us are fine, the baby’s fine, Bingo’s fine, and the rest can be replaced.”

  “But how about the town?” Skye’s voice rose and she wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “Our family? Our friends? Everyone?”

  “The siren went off in time.” Wally stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “With the stormy weather, people would have been listening to their radios and watching for alerts on TV. Around here, folks know to take cover.”

  Skye glanced at Frannie and Justin. Both looked dazed. She’d always been the strong, calm one in their young lives. They’d never seen her lose her cool before,
and if she didn’t pull herself together fast, her out-of-control emotions would become contagious.

  Taking a deep breath, Skye gazed up at her wonderful husband and said, “You’re right.” She took the handkerchief he offered and wiped her face. “What do we do now?”

  “At the moment, we need to get out of the house and find shelter.” Wally twined her fingers with his. “There might be structural damage. This place is really old and we don’t want to get trapped if the walls start to collapse.”

  He jerked his chin at Frannie and Justin, and the four of them hurried down the hall. As they neared the front door, Skye nabbed her purse from the hall table. She was slipping the strap over her shoulder when she stepped outside. The rain had stopped, but the night air was thick with moisture, and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze to relieve the mugginess.

  “I’ve got to check on my parents,” Justin said as Wally hustled the group down the sidewalk. “They don’t have a basement.”

  “Thank goodness Dad’s at the Vietnam Vet’s rally in Springfield,” Frannie said, awkwardly clutching Bingo’s carrier to her chest. “But I need to see if our house was damaged.”

  “First things first.” Wally urged Skye toward his squad car. He’d parked it behind Frannie’s now-tree-crushed Ford and it was miraculously intact. Even better, the driveway between the cruiser and the road was clear.

  Justin gazed at his cell phone. “There’s still no signal.”

  Frannie juggled Bingo as she dug her cell from her pocket. “Mine either.”

  “Get into the squad car,” Wally ordered the couple, helping Skye into the front passenger seat.

  As Wally jogged around to the driver’s side, Skye saw that most of their beautiful trees were toppled over and one had landed against the door of the garage, smashing the heavy double door onto both of their cars. They didn’t really need two vehicles, since Wally almost always drove his cruiser between home and the station, but his Thunderbird convertible had been a fortieth birthday gift from his father, and Skye mourned the loss of the beautiful car.