The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Fuck! How do you know?”

  “Finley called me!”

  My door opened, and Sawyer leaned in, no doubt because I was screaming like a madman. “Morgan, you can’t do this. The Mini will get swept away. Please, baby. Don’t do this.”

  “I have the truck, and I know the rule. If you can’t see the bottom of the water, don’t drive through it.”

  My eyes flew wide, and Sawyer must have heard her because he nodded. “It’s a heavy-ass truck.”

  “That doesn’t apply to ocean waves.” I wasn’t scared. This was three billion levels beyond scared. I was fucking terrified.

  “They’re expecting a twelve-foot storm surge. I’ve seen Vivian’s house, Jackson. It can’t take it. We both know it. And we both know there’s only one house that can.”

  Hers. There wasn’t enough oxygen in this fucking room.

  “I’m the best shot Finley has!”

  Sawyer leaned against the wall and nodded slowly.

  “Are you seriously going to sit there and let this happen? I’m right here, Jackson. I’m an hour away at most. That’s three hours before landfall. I can make it!”

  “I can’t lose you, too!” My voice shook as hard as my hand.

  “Driving is driving, no matter where you do it.”

  She did not fucking go there.

  Sawyer walked across the room, took the phone, and hit speaker. “Where are you, Morgan?”

  “Sawyer?”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare put her in danger,” I hissed at my best friend.

  “She already put herself in danger. For Finley, Jax. All I’m doing is helping her out. Where are you, Morgan?”

  “I’m just outside the Virginia Dare Bridge. It’s closed to incoming traffic.”

  “They’re evacuating as many people as they can. Okay, I want you to go north to the William Umstead. Find it on the GPS.”

  “I fucking hate you,” I seethed.

  “Hate me tomorrow, brother.” His mouth flattened.

  “Got it. I’m on my way.”

  “Stay on the line, would you, Morgan? I think it might make Jax feel a little better.”

  “Okay. God, it’s hard to see. The rain is coming in hard.”

  “And it’s just going to get even sportier out there,” Sawyer responded.

  “I see the bridge. It’s closer than I thought. Shit, there’s a guy and a concrete barrier.”

  Shit. Wait. I was supposed to feel relieved. I didn’t want Morgan on the island…but if Morgan didn’t get to Finley, there was a high chance she wouldn’t make it. Morgan was right—Vivian’s house wasn’t made to sustain that high a surge. Was I seriously about to risk Morgan’s life for Finley’s? How the hell could I ask her that?

  “There’s always a guy and a barrier,” Sawyer noted.

  “Go to the left. There will be space to the left. I know how they set those up,” I said, hating myself the whole time.

  “Okay, I see it. I can make it.” The rain filled the gaps in conversation hard enough that it sounded like she was in a storm of golf balls. “Sorry!”

  I snorted a laugh. Only Morgan would apologize to the guard when she blew right by him.

  “Tell me you have gas.”

  “Three quarters of a tank,” she confirmed. “It’s raining, but I’m okay. The bridge is good.”

  “Well, yeah, she’s not out there yet,” Sawyer whispered, his face tense.

  “She shouldn’t be out there,” I snapped. But she was Finley and Vivian’s only chance.

  “Okay, I’m in Manteo. How’s the weather down there, anyway?” she shouted over the barrage of rain.

  My eyes just about popped out of my head. “Could you just concentrate on driving?”

  “Bet you’re glad I’m not in your ear during a rescue, huh?”

  “Don’t even start with me, Kitty.” Fuck, I was going to throttle her the next time I saw her. Then I was going to kiss the shit out of her. Just let them live.

  “Here we go, there’s sixty-four. Sorry! I know, I know! Sorry! I think I just pissed off whatever’s left of the State Patrol out here, Jackson.”

  “Trust me, they have bigger fish to fry than to chase you down. Now listen to me. You’re getting out to shore, and the wind is going to start throwing things around, so keep your eyes open.” I leaned forward, as if it would help.

  “Okay.”

  A minute, maybe two, passed with only the sound of the rain against the truck.

  “I’m on twelve!”

  “Good job, baby. Now just take it steady.”

  “Whoa, whoa!”

  “Morgan?”

  “Sorry, there, um… I think that was plywood, but it missed me!”

  My heart jumped into my fucking throat.

  “Oh look, there’s another person out here! Nice to know I’m not alone. It’s really windy, though.”

  “It’s just going to get windier.” And harder. And rainier, and then the surge would hit.

  Sawyer flipped his phone around so I could see the screen. The station clocked the wind at ninety-six miles per hour five minutes ago. Fuck.

  “Morgan, what’s in the back of the truck?” Why the hell didn’t I think sooner?

  “About four hundred pounds of sand! Grayson called before I got too far and told me to stop and buy some.”

  “Good. Good.” Grayson was my new favorite person in the entire fucking world. “Can you see the water yet?”

  “I’m just now clearing the residential— Holy shit.”

  My head fell to my hands. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s…everything is white. And huge. Holy shit, Jackson. It’s coming up the beach. It’s past the high tide line.”

  The storm surge was coming.

  Sawyer leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes.

  “Okay, let’s, uh…let’s look at the road, Kitty. Can you still see it?”

  “The rain is coming at me sideways, but there’s no standing water on it.”

  I nodded, like she could see me or some shit. “I need you to listen to me. Can you hear me?”

  “I’ve got you.”

  “Morgan, this is the easiest part of the drive. Soon, you’re going to have to go over the new Bonner Bridge. Do you remember it?”

  “God, I hate that thing!”

  “Yeah, well, just be careful. It should drain the water, but you want to make sure you go a little slower on it so—”

  “So I don’t hydroplane. I know how to fucking drive, Jackson!”

  I threw my hands up, and Sawyer snorted.

  “Okay, I’m coming up to the bridge,” she said after what felt like forever. “And I’m on it.”

  She’d be up in the air for two-point-eight miles.

  “This thing is moving,” she sang.

  I could almost see her biting her lip and gripping the wheel. Why the hell weren’t we there? What good were we all the way down here when our families needed us?

  “How’s the bridge?” Sawyer asked.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m off it.”

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  Tense moments passed where all I could do was stare at the phone and pray.

  Sawyer flashed his phone. The winds were up to ninety-nine.

  “I’m off! Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!”

  My shoulders sagged in relief.

  “It really pushed me around up there, but I’m okay. It’s getting hard to see, though. The windshield wipers can’t keep up!”

  “Okay. Now before you bite my head off, do you remember asking me about the road washing out? The day I took you to Avon?”

  “Yeah. That’s where the road’s close to the beach, right?”

  “You got it. Listen to me,
baby. If that road is washed out, turn around and go back. You have no idea how deep and fast that water will be. It would be like driving the truck straight into the ocean. Do you understand me?”

  Silence.

  “Morgan?”

  “I understand. I’m not leaving Finley to get washed away, Jackson.”

  “I can’t lose either of you.” My head dropped.

  Sawyer put his hand on my shoulder.

  “You won’t. I’m going to make it in time. I promise. The surge isn’t up that far. It can’t be. Now hush and let me drive.”

  But it wouldn’t be the surge. That section of road would go down to the waves.

  “Holy Lord, that water is creeping up. I’m at Rodanthe,” she called out the update.

  “Okay.” I didn’t want her to think she was alone. My nails dug into my arms.

  “Shit!” she shouted.

  “Morgan?” Pretty sure I drew blood.

  “The wind.” Another minute passed. “I’m okay. The wind just pushed me clean onto the shoulder. I’m okay.”

  If I never heard the sound of rain again, I’d be just fine with it.

  “Avon! Oh my God, I think that’s a porta-potty! There’s stuff flying everywhere! Shit, there’s water on the road, but it’s not up to the curb yet.”

  I was going to vomit any second now.

  “Leaving Avon.”

  She was getting close. “Do you know if the road is still there?” I whispered to Sawyer.

  He lifted his shoulders and shook his head.

  She could be driving straight into the water.

  “The waves. I can see the waves and— Shit!” Skidding tires. “Okay, well, the water’s coming up over the road here with every wave.”

  I jolted. “Turn around.”

  “No.”

  “Morgan! I love you. Please, turn around! Go back to Avon!”

  “What did you say to me that night? People will die if I don’t leave right now?”

  Every muscle in my body locked. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

  “I’m okay, Jackson. It doesn’t look that deep. I’m going to get your little girl.”

  The rain cut out.

  The sound stopped.

  “Morgan? Kitty, are you there? MORGAN!”

  Morgan was gone.

  The call had ended. I grabbed the phone and dialed her number.

  Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “All circuits are busy—”

  “Fuck!” I screamed and slammed my phone on the bed. She’s okay. It’s the cell tower. Not her. She’s okay.

  “What can I do?” Sawyer asked quietly.

  “Put me on a fucking plane!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Morgan

  Morgan, when it’s time to let go, you have to let go. Fall in love. Get married. Have all those babies you want. Just be happy. I hope the guy knows just how lucky he is, because I took way too long to recognize it. Go. Love. Live. I’ll be watching, cheering you on.

  My hands cramped around the steering wheel. I wasn’t holding on so much as I was clutching the damned thing.

  NC 12 was washed over but not washed out. Not yet. I made it through and onto Hatteras Island. Visibility was shit, and I’d skirted two pontoon boats before curving with the road into Buxton.

  The roads were under water. How much? It couldn’t be that much, right? I kept an eye on anything that could clue me in to the depth and made my way slowly through the streets.

  Go away, Ingrid!

  You’re not welcome, Ingrid!

  There were countless variations painted on the boards of houses I passed. Some had previous hurricane names lined through and Ingrid painted over. Rain pelted the back window now that I’d turned, increasing the visibility slightly, but I knew it would only be twice as bad once we were headed back.

  There it was. Vivian’s house.

  I pulled into the driveway, then said a prayer that she’d forgive me for assaulting her grass and pulled up so the doors opened right in front of the staircase. I put the truck in park but left it running. I still had a half tank, and I wasn’t taking any chances that something would happen and it wouldn’t start again.

  I zipped up the raincoat I’d bought at the Virginia border and scoffed at the umbrella from the same store. Like that was actually going to help. Then I pocketed my cell phone in the water-resistant pocket of the jacket. It was a gamble, but I wasn’t going to chance missing his call if Jackson could get through.

  God knew it had only been his voice and steady, calming presence that had gotten me through Avon. I hadn’t felt alone in those terrifying miles.

  The truck doors were sheltered from the worst of the wind because of the garage, and I got the driver’s door open easily. The steps up to the front door were slick, and though the house was now blocking the wind, there was no quieting the sound of rending metal as the gutters ripped from the house.

  Keep going. She’s right here.

  I made it to the deck and then pounded on the door. “Finley! It’s Morgan! Open the door!” I waited what seemed like an eternity before starting again.

  Finley opened the door and looked up at me with wide eyes.

  I scooped her into my arms and slammed the door shut. The house was dim.

  “Morgan?” She clung to my neck. “You’re all wet!”

  I’ve got her, Jackson. I made it. She was here, and safe, and alive. Now I just had to keep her that way.

  “Hey, Fin.” Taking a selfish, extra moment to hold her tight, I pressed a kiss to her hair, then put her down. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  “I thought you were gone!”

  “I was, but I heard you needed some help, so now I’m here!” I smoothed back her hair from her face. “Take me to Grandma, would you?”

  She nodded and led me through the entry, past the dining room, and into the living room, which was only lit by three small, exposed windows that topped ones that had already been boarded up.

  “Hi, Vivian. How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

  “Morgan?” Vivian was in the same position as when I’d called last, but she struggled to sit.

  “No, don’t move. I came to take you guys to my house.” My eyes darted around the room, looking for something that would keep her leg stable. “Fin, honey? Why don’t you get dressed”—Juno wound herself through my feet—“and pack up the menagerie. We’re getting out of here.”

  “Okay!” Fin took off upstairs.

  “I’m not leaving.” Vivian stared me down with a look of authority that might have gotten me about five years ago. “I stayed during Irene, and I’m staying now.”

  “Can I see your leg?”

  She pulled back the blanket and lifted the hem of her shorts.

  That sucker was broken, and if I had to guess, it was in multiple places.

  “Right. That’s broken. What’s the highest storm surge this house has ever seen?” I raised my eyebrows at her.

  “Nine feet.” She nodded.

  “They’re now expecting fourteen. It’s hitting at high tide on a full moon.” Maybe I could break apart a chair or find some kind of bench to strap her to.

  “They always overestimate.” She waved me off. “Lunar tide…now that’s a pickle, but I’d be willing to gamble that we don’t see over ten.”

  Ten would put water in her first floor.

  “Are you willing to gamble Fin’s life?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet so Fin couldn’t hear.

  Vivian startled. “You really think it’s going to be that bad?”

  “Do you think I would have driven down from D.C. if I thought you’d be okay? Your leg is broken. Fin is five years old. What would you do when water gushes in your door? I can’t leave Fin here. She is coming with me. But I
won’t leave you here, either.”

  Her mouth pursed as fear skated over her face. “But where would we go?”

  “My house can take a fourteen-foot storm surge. It can probably take eighteen. I remodeled to hurricane proof it this year. It’s supposed to stand through a cat four, and this is just a strong three. But we have to go now. The water is rising, and if we don’t make it to the shore in time, we’ll be stuck here.” I scratched Juno’s head and mentally started counting. If she wouldn’t come with us in the next five minutes, I was going to have to knock her out and drag her.

  “Imagine heading toward the shore and not inland.” She humphed. “Let’s go, then.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief, but I couldn’t afford the time to savor it. We had to move quickly.

  I found a shorter length of two-by-four by the door and used belts to splint the area under her leg the best I could. I apologized the whole time she screamed.

  Finley’s eyes were wide as she watched.

  “Are the animals all packed up?” I asked, watching the clock. The house moved with a groan.

  Fin nodded. “Except Cousteau.”

  Right. The fish.

  “Okay. Get everybody by the door and put on your raincoat.” I patted her on the back, and she ran off.

  Five minutes later, I had Cousteau in a water-filled Tupperware container. Phillip and Barnaby were in separate carriers at the bottom of a large beach bag. I slid Cousteau in on top and met Finley in the entry, where she had Juno in her carrier.

  I got down to her eye level. “Okay, Fin. It’s windy and rainy and really scary out there, okay?”

  She nodded, but her mouth trembled.

  “We have to go because Grandma’s house isn’t high enough to keep you dry. So we have to get to my house. Understand?” I zipped up her raincoat.

  She nodded.

  “I need you to listen really carefully and do exactly as I say, and sometimes it might be scary, but we’re going to be okay. I’m going to take Grandma to the truck, and I want you to wait right here until I come get you.” I needed Finley in the safest place, and right now, that was the house. In an hour, it wouldn’t be.

  “My mommy left,” she whispered, tightening her grip on Juno’s carrier.

  I bit back the anger that saturated my tongue when I thought about Claire heading to an audition. That was the last thing Finley needed.