by Tom Abrahams
While he waited, the weight of the alcohol now descending upon him, he tried to recount how many drinks he’d had. He listened to the elevator cars descend, trying to determine which one would make it to the lobby first. He told himself he was multitasking.
Was it three drinks? No. It was four. Four drinks. Definitely four. It was enough to take the edge off, hasten his ability to fall asleep, but not leave him with a nasty hangover in the morning. He couldn’t handle a hangover. Not tomorrow. Not with the possibility of New Orleans slipping under water.
The elevator to his right chimed and the doors slid apart. Doc braced himself against the stainless frame of the opening and stepped into the car, pushed the button for his floor, and willed himself to the back of it so he could lean against the wall.
The elevator doors shut, but the car didn’t move. Doc stood there for what might have been two minutes before he realized he hadn’t ascended yet. He punched his floor button again before realizing he needed to insert his room key into a slot to activate his limited-access floor.
He fumbled through his pockets and fished out the key, poked at the slot until the key slid inside, then punched his floor. The elevator jerked upward, and Doc stepped back, falling against the wall.
The car zipped skyward, accelerating until it neared his floor. Then it slowed and lumbered to a stop. The doors whooshed ajar and Doc searched the hallway for the right direction to his room. By the minute, the fourth vodka martini was soaking into him more completely, but he managed to find his room. He inserted the key, which he thought so antiquated. So many of the hotels at which he now stayed used keyless entry. He could unlock his door with his phone. No such luck here in New Orleans. He ambled toward the closer of the two queen beds.
Doc liked having two beds in his room. One was for sleeping. The other served as a handy spot for his open suitcase. He’d forgotten he’d used the bed closer to the door for his baggage and collapsed onto the Samsonite, jabbing his hip into the hard plastic.
He cursed himself and struggled to the other bed, where he slid off his shoes and fell back onto the comforter. His head sank into the pillows and he lay there trying to abate the sensation of spinning.
The air-conditioning, which he hadn’t noticed until now, shut off, and the sound of rain beating against the room’s large floor-to-ceiling window proved an adequate lullaby. Doc fell asleep thinking of the end of the world, his planned speech the next day, and wallowed in the profound sense of loneliness that pervaded every aspect of his life.
CHAPTER 8
April 4, 2026
New Orleans, Louisiana
It was close to midnight by the time Dub and Keri dropped onto the couch in her parents’ family room, having navigated the rain-soaked streets of her hometown. It had taken forever to fight their way through the traffic and the weather.
“What do you think Barker’s doing?” asked Keri.
“You mean who is he doing?”
“Funny, Dub. You think he’s okay?”
“I’m sure,” said Dub. “Dude can take care of himself.”
“I felt bad leaving him at the restaurant.”
“I didn’t. He was having fun. Plus he told us to go. He’ll grab an Uber.”
“He knows where I live, right?”
Dub nodded. “I think so.”
Keri leaned her head on his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest. She wiggled as close to him as he thought she could get, and he adjusted himself to put his arm around her. Her hair smelled like the baby shampoo her mother kept in the guest bathroom.
“You as tired as I am?” asked Keri.
When they’d gotten home, they’d stripped off their wet clothes, Keri had tossed them into the washing machine, and they’d taken hot showers. Now they were dry, the clothes were on the spin cycle.
“Probably,” Dub replied. “But I’m wound up from that drive back.”
She spoke through a wide yawn. “It was intense,” she said, and took his hand. She rubbed the face of his wristwatch with her thumb.
He kissed the top of her head. “That it was.”
Dub closed his eyes and focused on her breathing. They sat there in the dark, the rain beating against the roof, the windows creaking from the wind. The occasional flash of lightning and the delayed, low grumble of thunder drew him into a trance.
He was awake but not lucid. His mind drifted to the game they’d enjoyed, to the classes he’d be missing on Monday, probably Tuesday, and maybe Wednesday, and back to Keri’s breathing. It was deeper now, more contented. She was asleep.
Dub was nearly there too, his breathing matching the slow, full rhythm of hers when his phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of him, vibrating loudly against the glass top. He ignored it, choosing to let it go to voicemail. He ignored it a second time. It buzzed again seconds later. Reluctantly, cursing the phone and whoever was calling, Dub leaned forward and plucked his phone from the table. Keri didn’t fully awaken, but she shifted her body away from his and snuggled herself into the opposite corner of the sofa.
Dub checked the caller on the display. It was Barker.
“Yeah,” said Dub. “What’s up?”
In the distance, he heard the beep of what sounded like a cash register and the low, familiar rhythm of reggae music. Barker’s voice was higher pitched than normal. He spoke quickly. “Hey, dude. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you.”
“I was asleep,” said Dub, mostly telling the truth.
“Okay,” said Barker, sounding as though he didn’t hear Dub’s response. “I need your help.”
“What?”
“I’m stuck at a convenience store. I can’t get an Uber to pick me up.”
Dub pushed himself to sit up straight. “A convenience store?”
Barker was speaking to someone else, his hand was over the phone, and his voice was muffled.
“Dude,” said Dub, “you there?”
Barker uncovered the phone. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just putting out a fire here. Anyway, my new friend and I need a ride.”
“New friend?” asked Dub. “You’re bringing a stranger to Keri’s parents’ house?”
“Yeah,” said Barker. “It’s cool. She’s a Bruin. I met her at the restaurant. We clicked. Then we caught a ride to the store here. But when we were getting supplies, the Uber driver took off. I gave him one star.”
Dub sighed and an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him. He had absolutely no interest in wading back out onto the streets. The weather was horrible, and from the sound of the wind and rain battering the house, it was getting worse by the minute. Plus, he was immensely comfortable sitting on the plush couch with Keri. He had no choice though. He couldn’t leave a man behind.
“All right,” he said, intentionally dragging out the words to let Barker know he was being a pain in the ass. “Drop me a pin and I’m on my way.”
“Thank you,” said Barker. “I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do,” said Dub. He ended the call and awaited the pin notification. A few seconds later the message appeared, and Dub tapped it open. The red pin appeared on a map, and then the app traced the route from the pin to his location. The store was only three miles away.
Dub patted Keri on her hip and squeezed gently. He leaned over her and whispered her name, trying to rouse her gently from her nap.
“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got to go get Barker. He’s stuck at a convenience store a few miles from here.”
Keri blinked and yawned, disoriented for an instant until her eyes met Dub’s. She reached up and touched his face. “You’re leaving?” she asked, a lilt in her voice. “Don’t leave.”
“I have to. Barker can’t get an Uber in this weather. He needs a ride back here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Barker,” she said in the same frustrated tone she’d used countless times before. “Of course he needs a ride.”
“He has a friend with him.”
Her eyes widened and she sat up. “A friend? He’s brin
ging a hookup back here?”
“She goes to UCLA,” said Dub. “I guess he met her at the restaurant.”
“I don’t know about that, Dub. Some random chick…”
“I can’t leave her there,” said Dub. “Barker put me in an awkward position.”
Keri was fully awake now. “He put us in an awkward position,” she corrected. “What an ass. That guy is always thinking with his—”
“I know. We can deal with it later. But I’ve gotta go get them. Cool?”
Keri stretched, arching her back. “Not cool, but whatever. Just be careful and hurry back.”
“Of course,” said Dub.
“The roads are probably worse than when we came home,” she said, putting her hand on his knee. “Don’t do anything stupid. If you can’t see the curb, don’t drive through the water.”
“Got it. You gonna hang here until I get back?”
Keri stood up, stretching again. She ran her fingers along the waistband of her sweatpants. Dub stood up and put his hands on her hips.
She kissed him on the cheek. “No. I’m going to my room. I don’t want to see Barker until tomorrow morning. No telling what I’d say to him and his hookup if I saw them tonight.”
Dub laughed. “Fair enough.” He slipped his feet into a pair of sliders. “He’ll probably appreciate that too.”
They hugged, Keri traipsed toward her room, and Dub grabbed the keys to the rental car. He stood at the front door with his hand on the knob for several seconds, gathering the courage to step out into the cold rain and wind. Then he exhaled loudly and made the dash toward his midsized domestic. He swung open the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled the door shut in what felt like one fluid motion. He was soaked by the time he pushed the ignition and put the car in reverse.
He couldn’t see through the rear window, so he used the backup camera to navigate from the narrow driveway then onto the street. It was blurry from condensation but was clear enough for him to see the driveway.
He fumbled for the windshield wipers and put them on high. It wasn’t enough to clearly see his path as he put the car into drive and slowly accelerated. He sat as far forward as he could in the seat, his chest against the steering wheel. His fingers gripped the wheel as if he were a first-time driver’s ed student unsure of himself on the road.
The radio was on. He turned it off. The rain was so loud against the roof of the car he couldn’t hear the music anyhow, and he needed his full attention on the barely visible road ahead. Three miles seemed like nothing until he started driving in this mess. Now it felt like a blindfolded cross-country trek on bald tires.
The tension tightened in Dub’s neck and shoulders. There were memories there, of another night where the water rose too high, he was trying to keep at bay. He pushed them aside and glanced at his phone. He noticed a turn ahead, but he couldn’t tell from the obscured windshield where the intersecting street met his. He slowed, leaning toward the passenger’s window to get an alternative view.
He reached the turn and made it slowly, deliberately. In the dim wash of the headlights, which he’d flipped to high beam, he saw the water pooling on the street, rushing along the gutters, and spilling into curbside drains. The dull streetlights that dotted the street showcased the sheets of incessant rain as he passed. A well of anger made Dub clench his jaw. He was not happy with Barker.
He kept the car in the middle of the road, the standing water not having covered the pavement there, until he reached the next intersection and saw the bright lights of an oncoming SUV or truck. He eased through the intersection and crept toward the deeper water near the curb. He could feel it rushing under the floorboard as he held steady on the gas pedal. The approaching vehicle, however, wasn’t moving to its side of the road. It was maintaining its path along the center. And it was moving much faster than Dub had originally thought. The closer it got, the more Dub could make out its speed and shape. It was a truck with large tires that sprayed a thick wash of floodwater up and out from its treads.
Dub toggled the high beams, trying to get the driver’s attention. If it maintained its course, it might swamp him or, even worse, force him off the road and into the flooded gutter.
He flicked his lights again and took his foot off the accelerator. The truck kept coming. Dub held his foot above his brake, but did not press it. If he stopped the car, he’d flood, and might not get it going again. The water was likely just deep enough to creep into the tailpipe. He kept moving forward, at a crawl above idle, and steered toward the right.
The truck wasn’t slowing. In fact, it seemed to Dub it was speeding up. Dub braced for the wave sure to come, and the truck rumbled past him.
A large spray slapped the driver’s side of his car as Dub swerved to try to avoid it. Then a large wake splashed against the car, and Dub felt water on his bare heels as it leaked through the bottom of the driver’s side door, pooling in the well underneath the gas and brake pedals.
He managed to maintain control, weaving back toward the center of the road before slamming into the back of a car parked at the curb. The car was struggling. The engine protested as he carefully accelerated and straightened his course. It sounded like the motor was coughing as he advanced along the street. He was sweating now, perspiration blooming on the back of his neck and on his forehead. He cursed Barker again and leaned even closer to the wheel. His muscles ached as if he’d been holding them taut for hours.
The GPS on the phone showed him it was less than a mile from the convenience store where he was told by Barker to pick him up, along with the girl Barker had met. He had two more turns to make before reaching the convenience store. His concern, as he reflexively checked the rearview mirror and then each side mirror, wasn’t getting to the store. Sure, he was worried. But the real stress came from thinking ahead to the drive back.
He picked up his phone and voice dialed Keri. She answered groggily.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m having trouble. There’s water everywhere. I may have to come back home. Not sure. I might or might not be able to get Barker. Just letting you know.”
“Okay,” she said, the sleep thickening her response. “Be careful.”
“You too,” he said. “I’ll keep you posted. Love you.”
Dub hung up, not waiting for her response. He tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. He had to concentrate. There were a thousand moves running through his mind, a million options, countless bad outcomes.
If the rain persisted, there was no way he’d be able to take the same route home that he’d taken on the way to the store. It was already treacherously close to impassable. Another ten minutes and it would be inundated, no doubt. A swell of anxiety quickened his pulse. He tightened his grip on the wheel, forcing himself to stay in the moment and not let himself drift into his suppressed past.
He made the first of the turns, the car spitting water from its exhaust. The accelerator was struggling when he pressed it coming out of the turn and straightened onto the next street. There were cars lining both sides of the road, making a center path the only possibility. As the wipers made quick passes on the windshield, he saw the water was halfway up the rims of most of the sedans parked on the street. The SUVs had a little more clearance, though not much. The center of the road, not visible underneath the rising water, didn’t have quite the depth, as far as he could tell.
A flash of lightning strobed and illuminated Dub’s surroundings for a brief instant. His pulse was already thumping thickly against his chest. The perspiration was building. The sight of the flooding street, the sheets of rain, and the homes with water already creeping up their driveways made him want to vomit.
Thunder crashed overhead. He felt it in the steering wheel. He loosened his sweaty grip and readjusted it, making sure he had control of the vehicle as he neared his final turn. The GPS told him it was only a few feet ahead and to the left. When he reached it and started to make the turn, his headlights revealed not a street, but a torrent of water rush
ing toward him. It pushed against the front tires and rocked the carriage, threatening to lift both from the asphalt.
Dub bore down on the wheel, narrowed his focus, and swung the front of the car around, sloshing through deeper water as he bounced up onto a curb and off again. He pushed the gas and somehow managed to keep the car moving back toward the street from which he’d just turned. He turned left and found the center of the road. He exhaled. His muscles relaxed infinitesimally. But it was too soon for relief. The engine coughed and the wheel stuttered under his grip. The car stalled. In that instant, without the motor to propel it forward, the water lifted the vehicle from the ground and carried it back into the flooded intersection from which the rapids were angrily crashing and roiling. The car’s headlights dimmed and it tipped toward the driver’s side. Water rushed in through the door, quickly pooling at Dub’s ankles.
The wheel locked. Dub struggled fruitlessly to regain control. He unbuckled himself and climbed to the passenger seat. The car was spinning now, bobbing like an unevenly weighted canoe. Dub reached for the button to lower the passenger window and pushed it. It didn’t work. He cursed himself and then grabbed the door handle, pulling it, and with every bit of strength he had left, shouldered the door open against the water.
He scooted to the edge of the passenger seat, water splashing against him while threatening to slam shut the door on his torso. He swung his feet around and then, gauging the depth of the water from the undulating reflection of streetlights on its surface, launched himself from the car.
The instant he hit the water, gliding through it before the rush of it tumbled him feet over head, his body seized from the shock of it. He resisted the urge to suck in a deep breath and cry out from the cold, as he somehow found his bare feet surfing along soft, muddy ground.
