I try to turn on the news but the cable is out. Every channel is just white fuzz. I mute the volume just to be safe. For some time after this I sit on the couch with my eyes unfocused, the rumblings and growls of the hurricane outside registering in my brain like some kind of herd of slow-moving, heavy-footed animals lowing in search of food. Kyle. My lips form his name over and over but no sound comes out. Kyle, how I wish you were here…
My nerves are making it unbearable to sit still, and so I get up to pace the living room, pretending not to notice how with each step the carpet squishes. The water, having ignored my pleas to stay at bay, had taken full advantage of my distraction and was now pouring in from both doors, the towels no defense whatsoever.
With the next deafening clap of thunder, the lights flicker. Remembering their existence, I look up at the bulb on the ceiling fan overhead. Honestly, I was shocked they’d lasted this long. Of course, it would be just my luck they’d go out right as it was getting dark.
This thought sends a stab of terror through my chest. Can you imagine? Being in this house in the pitch blackness, the water slowly rising…
With the TV snowed over and the internet out of commission (my phone has no service either), I do the only other thing there is to do. In the utility closet in the hallway, I dig out a small black case located on the second shelf. Inside is my mother’s old AM/FM radio. From a bag of batteries on the kitchen counter, I pick out a few Ds and slide them into the back of the radio. A quick flip of the switch on its side brings it to life. It takes a bit of fumbling with the knob, but finally I find across a station clear enough to understand.
“Advisory to stay indoors except in the direst of circumstances,” a man is saying. “The storm has stalled over Southeast Texas and is showing little sign of moving, with the entire system creaking northward at just over one mile an hour. Twenty-four-hour rainfall totals have broken records across much of Houston and the surrounding counties. So far, fifteen fatalities have been confirmed, with several hundred missing persons still unaccounted for. If you or someone you know is in need of assistance, please do not hesitate to call emergency services. Extra operators have been flown in from all over the state…”
I’m leaned over the kitchen counter, my chin balanced on my stacked fists. The water has risen far enough now that I can feel a slight current as it swirls around my toes. It’s surprisingly warm, like the shallows of Galveston on a hot summer day. Even though it’s still early enough to be light outside, with the windows boarded and the harsh yellow glow of the bulbs overhead beating down upon the room it feels like the dead of night.
A roll of thunder shakes the walls. The nearest bucket is nearly full. I start towards it, only to relax with a chuckle back into a slump over the counter.
Silly girl. Emptying the buckets. What for? At this point, you might as well just pour them out!
With a shiver, I shoot up straight like a coiled spring that’s just been released as a terror like I've never known pulses in my heart. Suddenly, the danger feels very, imminently real. What the hell was I doing here? Why had I stayed?
As if some malevolent god has deigned it fit to answer me, a peal of thunder erupts overhead. The next moment, the lights go out. Though the darkness is not total thanks to the uncovered window, for the few seconds it takes my eyes to adjust it sure feels that way. I gasp as the blackness envelops me, my knees knocking against the kitchen island as my legs go weak with fear. The water, a moment before no more than a centimeter deep, is lapping at my ankles now. Or so it seems to me, blind as I am.
“…though wide power outages have been recorded all across the county, many swaths of the city and its outlying suburbs still have access to electricity. Of course, this is not predicted to persist as the storm continues to pound the coast. Other reports predict…”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mumble.
At least the radio was still working. As long as its batteries lasted, of course. That was another problem I had pushed aside and needed to consider. As prepared as I had gotten myself for this storm, the one thing I had forgotten to pick up from the store were D-cell batteries.
My eyes having finally adjusted to the darkness, the old, familiar living room having reappeared around me, I take three deep breaths, holding each one in for a count of ten before slowly blowing it out and drawing the next.
Okay, Shannon, it’s time to move. You’ve got to stop kidding yourself. The rain’s not going to stop so you’ve got to get out of here. If you don’t, you’re going to drown.
“…several drowning fatalities have already been reported, the majority of these attributed to people getting trapped as water inundated their cars and houses…”
Really, why did you stay?, I ask myself for the millionth time as I look around the slow-filling trailer. It’s the one thing I still can’t figure out. What was wrong with me? My damn hubris, that was what. I was just like mom. A strong, independent woman who didn’t need no man. She would be just fine, come hell or high water, and so would I.
Only I wasn’t fine, and she had spent most of her life locked in this trailer unhappy and alone. Was that why I hadn’t fled to Kyle, to the most obvious place to go? Because I was worried of losing my independence? Or was it because I was scared of finding myself?
I wade into the living room, my eyes scanning the shadows to confirm what it is I already know. The water, a minute before no more than an inch deep, is nearly at my shin now.
I’m looking for my phone but I’m so unbalanced by fear that I can't remember where I last saw it. Nor am I centered enough to think to use a flashlight to aid in my search. Instead, half-blind, I splash aimlessly through the deepening water, growing more and more frustrated by the minute as I fail in my mission, the world blurring as my tears begin to flow.
“Dammit!” I scream as I tumble down onto the couch, completely forgetting in my despair the pan I’d put down to catch the drip. My elbow knocks it from the back of the couch and I gasp as its contents pour down my back, slimy water that's been filtered through the roof running between my shoulder blades. Naturally, this makes the tears fall all the harder.
I allow myself to indulge for several minutes, until my wretched sobs have melted into gasping hiccups and a feeling of ridiculousness has begun to creep into my every exhortation to a higher power. For a while after my breathing has returned to normal and the tears have dried on my cheeks, I continue to sit and listen to the rain drumming on the roof. It's like I can't even bring myself to begin to think about what to do. It was too much. Everything was just too much.
I don't know how long I sit there doing nothing. Two minutes. Two hours. Two days. In the end, it's only when my ears register a strange whining groan beneath the melody of the rain that I’m finally jolted out of my waking slumber.
“Oh no…”
One hand on the back of the couch, I swing my feet down to the floor. The water is several inches higher than before.
I push myself up, dropping right back down onto my butt the moment I do as what sounds like a gunshot rings through the house. My head snaps towards the sound. It’s the lock of the back door that’s snapped through the wooden frame, the door forced open by the pressure of the flood pushing against it from outside. As I watch, several tree branches float in, snakes atop the water.