by Lisa Regan
“This place is good,” Ray said, stopping in front of a glass storefront that said Jessie Mae’s Ice Cream.
He could have suggested ground glass in that moment, and Josie would have agreed. Inside the quaint little shop, the air was frigid. Tiny tables for two lined the walls. A countertop extended almost into the center of the room. On either side of it were glass cases with various flavors of ice cream inside them. They stepped up to where a sign said: Order Here. Josie tore her eyes away from Ray to order and immediately, the rush of happiness she’d felt outside drained from her feet into the tile beneath her.
Beverly scowled at her from behind the cash register. A small hat in the shape of a cherry was pinned to the top of her head. Her luscious brown curls were pulled back into a ponytail. Her uniform was a pastel pink halter top beneath a set of white overalls. Even with the silly hat, she looked gorgeous. Womanly. Sensuous, even.
Ray seemed not to notice. Or maybe he did, and he was just pretending not to. His eyes were glued to the menu above Beverly’s head. Did he come here a lot? Had he known Beverly worked here? They didn’t acknowledge each other. Josie smoothed her now wrinkled linen dress, feeling self-conscious. “Ray,” she whispered in his ear. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”
Before he could answer, Beverly turned away from them and shouted to a co-worker cleaning an ice cream machine behind her. “Morgan, you have a customer. I’m going on break.”
Without another look, she sauntered into the back of the shop.
Twenty-Five
The next morning, Josie woke at five a.m. to the sound of thunder cracking and rain pounding the roof. Trout had inserted himself between her and Noah in bed. He shivered and whimpered. Josie reached over to stroke his silky back and felt Noah’s hand already resting there. “He doesn’t like the boomers,” Noah said softly.
“I know,” Josie said. Her fingers crawled up to the downy area behind his ears and stroked it gently. The three of them lay there, Josie and Noah cocooning Trout until the thunder and lightning passed and it was time for Josie to get ready to meet Gretchen.
Gretchen was waiting in her own car in the parking lot of the Stop-N-Go. When Josie pulled up, she got out of her car and hopped into Josie’s passenger seat. They turned out of the parking lot and down Lockwood Drive. There had been a break in the rain, but the sky hadn’t cleared. Josie thought of Trout trembling beneath her touch and of the city being swallowed up by the floods a little more each day. A feeling of dread clawed at her, so intense it was almost physical, like darkness closing in on the edges of her peripheral vision.
The road was little-used, with nothing much to offer besides forest on one side and mostly abandoned businesses on the other—save for one of the seediest motels in the city, which was somehow still in operation. Road crews didn’t spend much time maintaining this portion of Lockwood Drive. The asphalt was cracked and rutted. The yellow lines splitting the lanes had long ago faded to what looked like confetti loosely thrown down the center of the road. Josie maneuvered around several potholes. From the Stop-N-Go, Lockwood ran downhill, running parallel with the interstate for several miles. Except now, in the distance, large plastic orange barriers stretched across the highway where the flooding had risen. A huge white sign with black letters announced Road Closed.
Alice had been right. The bowling alley was the last building on the road before the flood zone started. Josie pulled into the parking lot, tires crunching over gravel and broken pavement, and parked behind the building. The weedy, litter-strewn lot behind the old building was empty. A broken-down fence separated it from a strip of land that ran along the concrete barriers of the interstate beyond. They got out and looked around, but there was no one in view.
“Should we go into the building?” Gretchen asked.
“No,” Josie said. “She said behind the bowling alley, not inside. Besides, this place has been empty for years. I’m not sure the structure is safe.”
To their right, about a half mile up the hill, was the back of the Patio Motel. Beyond that, the land abutting the interstate rose until it became the steep drop-off where they had stood the day before, behind the Stop-N-Go. To their left, about twenty yards of pocked land lay between them and the brown water of the Susquehanna, which had overtaken this area of Lockwood Drive when it flooded the interstate overpass. The fence that was supposed to separate the lots from the interstate had fallen into the water. Ten yards beyond that sat the portion of the interstate just before the flooded overpass. The State Police had erected concrete barriers across the lanes of the highway, and traffic had been diverted around the closure and through the city. Everything but the river was still and quiet, its current moving swiftly.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” Gretchen said.
Raindrops splattered around them. “Not again,” Josie said. She took out her phone. “I’m going to call her.”
This time, Alice picked up immediately. Josie said, “Alice, we’re at the meeting place. Where are you?”
“I see you,” she whispered.
Josie spun around, searching the surroundings. “Where are you? If you can see us, just come out. There’s no one else here.”
“You don’t know that. I’m waiting to see if you were followed.”
“I think we’d know if we were followed,” Josie told her.
Gretchen turned slowly in a circle, looking around. She pointed uphill toward the Patio Motel. Josie started to walk with her toward it but then Alice said, “Don’t leave. Just a few more minutes to make sure no one followed you. That’s all I’m asking.”
Josie stopped. She looked at Gretchen and pointed behind them. They turned and walked back toward the flooded area. “Alice, you really need to tell us what’s going on. If you’re this concerned for your safety, I think you need to let us bring you in.”
Silence.
“Alice?”
“I think I hear something,” she said.
Josie pulled the phone from her ear, and she and Gretchen strained to listen for the sounds of tires over asphalt or footsteps, but there was nothing. Gretchen gestured toward the interstate and mouthed, I think she’s there.
Josie followed her movement, eyes landing on the concrete barriers set in place so that drivers wouldn’t go directly into the flood. There was still some area of dry interstate behind them before the water flowed up and over the overpass. It wasn’t the safest hiding spot, but it would give Alice a clear view of the rears of all the buildings leading up the hill without being seen, and no one would look for her on the closed interstate.
Josie nodded to Gretchen and slowly, they began walking in that direction. Alice started to speak, but her words were lost when another call beeped in on Josie’s phone. She pulled it away from her ear and looked at the screen. Noah. Whatever he was calling for, it could wait. She swiped decline and sent him to voicemail. “What was that, Alice?”
Gretchen’s cell phone rang. “Noah,” she said as she looked at the screen. She, too, sent the call to voicemail. As they climbed over the guardrail and stepped onto the highway, a woman emerged from behind the barricades. A cell phone was pressed to her ear. She pulled it away, pressed the screen, and put it in her jacket pocket. Her raincoat was dark blue and beneath that she wore a pair of black jeans and white sneakers. She was rail thin with long, dark hair that had obviously been dyed, but Josie recognized her features at once.
“Vera?”
The woman stopped and raised both hands. “Stop. This was a mistake.”
Gretchen said, “No, it wasn’t a mistake. Whatever is going on, we can help you.”
Josie’s phone buzzed again with a call. Noah. She put her phone into her own jacket pocket and let it go to voicemail again. From where they stood, so close to the river, the sound of the current was even louder. Behind the barricades, it looked as though the water was flowing more quickly. Rain continued to splatter them, growing steadier by the moment. With every drop, Josie felt her heart sink even more. It wo
uld mean more flooding, more flash floods, more damage. But right now, she had to focus on Vera Urban.
Josie said, “Vera, you wouldn’t be here if you believed this was a mistake. You took a risk to meet us, didn’t you?”
The woman nodded. With the rain beading on her face, Josie wasn’t sure if she was crying or not, but her features twisted and a sob erupted from her throat. Then the concussive boom of a gunshot rang out and a dark red splotch bloomed across Vera’s stomach. She stumbled backward, hands reaching for something, face slack with shock, and fell.
Immediately, Josie ran toward her. Gretchen’s gun was already out and up as she panned it around them. Another shot shattered the air and a few feet away, a chunk of concrete burst from one of the barriers. “It’s coming from the building,” Gretchen shouted.
Flat on her back, Vera’s mouth worked like a fish out of water. “The—they—the—”
“Get her on the other side of the barricades,” Gretchen said, standing in front of them, gun pointed toward the bowling alley. Her right eye zeroed in on the iron sights of her Glock, but she didn’t take a shot. Josie moved around to the top of Vera’s head and hooked her arms under her armpits, dragging her behind one of the large concrete beasts. Gretchen followed and the two of them knelt down, pushing Vera as close to the barrier as they could so she wasn’t exposed. Another shot sailed over their heads.
“Put pressure on that,” Gretchen said, turning back toward the bowling alley, her gun ready. Another shot boomed, and they heard it hit the other side of the barrier. Josie’s ears rang. She took off her raincoat and bunched it up, pressing it to Vera’s abdomen.
Josie heard the familiar ringtone of Gretchen’s phone. Shouting to be heard over the aftershocks of the gunshots and the steady rumble of the river at their backs, Gretchen said, “It’s in my pocket. It’s gotta be Noah. Take it. We need units now.”
Josie kept one hand on Vera’s abdomen while the other plunged into Gretchen’s jacket pocket and pulled out the phone. She used her thumb to swipe answer but with the rain coming down, it took three tries on the slicked screen. “Noah,” she cried.
Vera’s hand gripped Josie’s shoulder. Her mouth worked again. Josie put her free ear down toward Vera’s face, trying to hear what she was saying. “Ple—please—”
In her other ear, Noah said, “Josie. Are you still on Lockwood? I’m on my way to you now. The railroad levee broke. With the thunderstorms overnight, it was too much. There’s going to be a big surge downriver. You should get out of there.”
The crack of another gunshot caused Vera to buck beneath Josie’s hand. Noah was saying something, but Josie couldn’t make it out. The rain fell harder. She felt something against her ankles and looked back to see that the surge Noah warned about was already happening. The water had been ten yards away only moments ago, and now it was at their feet. Panic squeezed at Josie’s heart. She had to stay calm. Focused. Noah was on the way.
“We’re pinned down,” she shouted into her phone, trying to be heard over the roar of the river. “Someone is shooting at us.”
“What? What the hell?”
“You need to call in extra units right now, and we need an ambulance right away. Do not approach alone and make sure you’ve got your vests on,” Josie told him. “We’re on the interstate. On the eastbound side behind the concrete barriers before the overpass. Vera—Alice—is wounded. Gunshot to the abdomen. She’s alive but I don’t know for how long.”
“Jesus, Josie—”
“Listen to me. Gretchen thinks the shooter is up near the bowling alley. Either inside the building or near it. I’m going to hang up. Call in extra units and approach with caution.”
As she put Gretchen’s phone into her pocket, she heard a siren in the distance. Her heart leapt at the thought that backup was so close, but then she realized it was just the fire company’s emergency siren. The river was about to ravage the city again, and Josie and Gretchen were in its maw, being shot at while trying to keep a wounded woman alive.
Twenty-Six
Gretchen retreated and pressed her back against the barrier, gun still at the ready. “There’s nowhere for us to go,” she said. Water now lifted Vera from her place on the ground. Josie slipped an arm beneath her head to keep her from dropping beneath the surface. “We’re about to go downriver whether we like it or not,” she warned.
“We can’t leave this position,” Gretchen said. “If we come out from behind the barriers, we’re sitting ducks. We can’t do it.”
Vera’s face was deathly white now, her mouth closed and her eyelids hooded. “I don’t think we can move her,” Josie said. Water swirled powerfully around her shins. “But we’re about to get swept away.”
She tried to keep pressure on the wound and keep Vera’s head out of the water, but it was a losing battle. Blood trickled from beneath her raincoat. “I haven’t heard a shot for a while,” Josie said. “Maybe they left. We should move her to the other side. Onto the highway, away from the water.”
Gretchen shook her head. “We can’t. If you’re wrong—”
Another shot boomed. They felt it slice the air just over their heads. Josie threw herself down over Vera, hugging the woman to her. She felt Gretchen’s hand on her shoulder. Her voice trembled when she said, “Boss, look.”
Josie turned her head, looking upriver to see the water level rising rapidly. They had only moments before a rush of churning, brown river swept them away. Noah and the rest of the cavalry would never make it in time to stop the shooter and come for them. It took a split second for Josie to make the decision. “Hold her,” she told Gretchen, lifting Vera toward her. Gretchen kept her gun pointed skyward and slipped her other arm under Vera’s lolling head. Josie stood, keeping her upper body bent so she couldn’t be seen over the top of the barrier, and pulled off her boots, tossing them into the water. Then she unzipped her jeans, peeling them off. Gretchen looked at her with wide eyes. “Boss, I don’t think this is the time—”
“Watch,” Josie shouted at her. The water was knee level now. She tied the pant-legs together. Holding the waist of the jeans, she flapped them, trapping air inside the legs. As fast as she could, she bunched and tied off the waist area. The pant-legs were fat with air. Josie said, “Help me,” as she tried to slip Vera’s head between them. Gretchen helped work Vera’s head through the inflated pant-legs so that the jeans acted as a flotation device. Then she let herself fall back into the rising water. A moment later, her boots bobbed to the surface and floated away. Then came her jeans. Josie kept one hand on Vera while Gretchen tied her own pant-legs together. She couldn’t get the air into the top, so she took hold of Vera while Josie did it.
The water lifted them, carrying them away. Gretchen slipped her head through her floating pants and reached for Josie’s hand. But Josie and Vera were already on the current, rocketing downriver. Josie struggled to keep proper hold on Vera. The woman’s body was completely limp. Water surged over Josie’s head, and she spluttered as her mouth broke the surface. Again, she felt a squeezing in her chest. Calm, said a voice. Stay calm. But there was no staying calm. A scream ripped from her throat as she turned onto her back and pulled Vera onto her stomach. The makeshift flotation device wasn’t enough for them both. Josie’s head kept sinking below the surface. Her lungs burned.
She concentrated on trying to keep her arms wrapped around Vera. Water poured over her head, into her lungs. Flailing, she broke the surface again, and her body hacked so hard trying to expel the water that pain pierced her upper back. Then the water surged over her again. Her eyes were open but all she saw was darkness. The black abyss of the angry, voracious river. It was swallowing her whole. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop anything. Not the river. Not Vera’s death. Not her demons or the tears that came even now in her last moments as she sank.
The darkness can’t hurt you, Jo.
It was Ray’s voice, one of the last things he had said to her. She heard it as clearly as if he were talking
into her ear. But that was impossible because she was underwater, clinging to a dying woman who was still bobbing along the surface of the river only by virtue of Josie’s pants. There was some kind of shift in the current, as though they’d passed through an eddy or something. Their bodies spun sideways and Josie’s head broke water again. She coughed, trying to get the water out of her lungs. Vera’s head flopped against Josie’s shoulder. Josie willed her legs to work, to paddle, to keep herself afloat. In her periphery, she saw a large branch shoot past them. Trees. She had to get to the shore or close enough to any trees overtaken in the flooding to grab onto them. They’d never make it following the current. Emergency responders wouldn’t find them before Josie tired out and drowned.
Her legs kicked as she craned her neck, trying to find any sign of land. Finally, to her right, a grove of trees came into view ahead. Every muscle in her body burned with the effort of paddling sideways with Vera hooked onto one of her arms. They barreled past the trees before Josie could reach them. A grunt of frustration escaped her. It was getting harder to take in breath, to stay afloat, to hold on. But she was closer to the edge of the water than she had been. She sent up a silent plea to any higher power that might be listening, and a moment later she was rewarded by another smattering of trees, these with more spindly trunks but grouped closer together. She reached out her free hand as the current carried them past. Her palm slapped against the trunk and slid off. The same thing happened with the next tree. The water was moving too fast. With every ounce of energy she had left, she kicked again, thrashing her body into a turn and bracing herself for impact.
