Flash Flood (16 page)

Alina hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, but she released it the moment he put the phone back on the cradle. “We’re supposed to sit tight?”

“Some of the streets aren’t passable, but we can probably get through most of them in one of the trucks. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll call them back, and they’ll send someone after us.”

“As in a boat?”

“Exactly.” He smiled, but she found no humor in the situation. “I suggest we get our things and try to make it out of here.”

As soon as Ryan powered down his laptop and grabbed up a handful of papers to stuff in his computer case, they braved the weather again.

Outside, Alina studied the water reaching the second step. Without a doubt, she was frightened. The area from Flash to the river looked like a solid sheet of water. Her apartment sounded like a slice of heaven. She handed Ryan the truck keys.

“I don’t want to try driving.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re trembling, Alina. I’m sure we’ll do fine once we get going.” He chuckled, but she could tell he forced it. “Too bad Fred doesn’t own an amphibious vehicle.” He took her arm and guided her down the steps. “The water is cold, and it’s going to get into your boots. My advice is not to think about it.” He lifted his computer case above his head. When he couldn’t manage the case, the umbrella, and Alina, he left the umbrella behind.

Her first step deeper than the height of her boots shocked her system. “Oh!” She shuddered.

“I know, but the truck isn’t that far.” The calm, in-control inflection of his voice soothed her a bit. She could do this. How many times had she told herself the same thing over the past few weeks? They had to move fast, because the longer they delayed, the less likely it was they’d make it home. She refused to think of the late afternoon shadows darkening around them.

“Ryan, the water is like stepping into an ice bucket, and it feels like I’m being pelted by mini icicles.”

“Really, Alina, has anyone ever thrown icicles at you? Tell me how that feels.” He reached for her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around his.

She understood he wanted her to talk and not think—and Ryan had protected her in the past.
Lord, I’m terrified. Please help us. You know I can’t swim
. “It’s like when I sprained my ankle two years ago and I had to keep my foot in ice. At the time I thought the ice was worse than the pain.”

“See, I walked through this earlier. My feet haven’t thawed out yet, so this is a piece of cake.”

“How nice.”

“Focus your eyes on the truck. It
is
getting closer.”

She wanted to cry. No wonder all those people from the
Titanic
drowned. The idea of “hypothermia” written on her death certificate didn’t sit well. “I’m trying to be optimistic.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.”

“Will the truck even start?”

“I’m praying about that.”

“Me, too.” She tightened her grip on his hand and prayed.

“There is one consolation,” he said. “If this was the middle of summer, we’d be sharing this water with snakes.”

“Oh, Ryan, you always were able to find the humorous side of things.”

“All but one.”

Alina didn’t reply. She knew exactly what he referred to. Just as her legs threatened to grow numb, they reached the hood of the truck on the driver’s side.

“Crawl across from my side,” Ryan said. He opened the door to find that water hadn’t gotten inside.

“Normally I complain about climbing up into these things,” she said. “But not today.”

Ryan gave her a boost up, and she crawled across the seat and over the gearshift. Once seated on the passenger side, she took his computer case and placed it on her lap.

“I never thought dry could feel so good,” he said. “Now, to get this baby started and out of here.” He inserted the key, and the engine sang into action. “Yahoo!” he shouted.

Alina clapped her hands. “I feel like a kid at Christmas.” Her gaze swept around them. Water everywhere. She shivered but kept her reservations to herself. At least the thunder and lightning had ceased.

Friday, 5:15 p.m
.

Ryan inched the truck backward. He didn’t dare go forward; the parking lot sank deeper in front of them. He took a quick glance in the rearview mirror and saw that the lines across his forehead resembled a plowed field. He fought the water while he straightened the truck. “Here we go. Lord, we need all the help we can get.”

“I’m not so sure I can tell where the parking lot ends and the road begins. Be careful. There are deep ditches on both sides.”

Ryan eased to the highest point of the parking lot, then turned the truck toward what he believed was the road, giving himself plenty of room for error. The likelihood of them making it to safety looked slim, but he wouldn’t tell Alina. The dips in the streets were like water retention ponds. Oars … he needed oars.

The truck inched ahead and onto the street. He flipped on the heat, grateful the vehicle’s engine hadn’t cooled too much since its crew parked it. The welcomed warmth boosted his confidence. His gaze followed to the top of a hill. If the truck made it there, he could evaluate their position. At the crest, Ryan stared out at the gray-shadowed streets below. Everywhere was water—and rising. Behind them looked like a small lake. Before them appeared to be an extension of the river. The few vehicles stranded along the street were nearly submerged. With late afternoon fading to evening, the world around them held a sinister chill.

“We can’t risk this,” he said. “We’ll have to turn around.”

“I know,” she whispered. “We’re better off inside Flash.”

He didn’t want to comment on waiting at Flash for a boat to rescue them. Right now, he had to get Alina back on dry ground, and he had no experience in driving through water except the commonsense factor to proceed slowly. Uneasiness crept over him as he considered how to turn around without sinking into the ditch.
Lord, if You wanted my attention, You have it. I’m scared. Help me turn this truck around
.

Ryan pressed his foot onto the clutch and slipped the gearshift into reverse. He gripped the steering wheel like a kid taking his first driving lesson. Alina stared at him, her face a ghastly shade of white.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” she said through quivering lips. “But I always thought drowning would be one of my least favorite ways.”

“I’ll do my best to keep those fears unfounded.” He wanted to say more. He even wanted to reach over and squeeze her hand. Tell her she’d be okay. Instead he offered a tight-lipped smile.

His goal was to stay in the same spot on the road and slowly turn the truck around by alternating between reverse and first gears. It sounded good in theory. Maybe if he owned a boat, he could figure out the maneuverability.

His head pounded, and his ears filled with the sound of moving water. The slow battle to head the truck back to Flash consumed his senses. The windshield wipers sailed back and forth. The evening moved in faster … darker. Alina gasped, but he didn’t have time to give her attention.

“I’m afraid to look and afraid not to,” she said.

“If you think I’m getting too close to the ditch, speak up.”

A crack of thunder startled her. He well remembered her fear of storms. The truck finally made its 180-degree turn and moved in the direction of the parking lot. He felt his shoulders relax. “Don’t care to try that again.” Lightning raced across the darkening sky. How would he get her out of the truck and into the building in an electrical storm? In the past, she refused to drink water or walk past a window during a storm.

“Ryan, I have never been this scared.”

It may get worse
. “I know you are. Soon we’ll be back inside the building and on the phone to the police.”

“But I am getting warm. How nice it would be if our clothes were dry and the electricity was—”

He glanced her way and forced a smile. The engine sputtered. He caught his breath. In the next moment, the engine died. He turned the key. Nothing. He tried again. Silence.

“We have to walk, don’t we?” Her voice quivered.

The thought of looking at her frightened expression was more than he could handle. “I’ll help you.”

She reached for the door handle. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Why? How could you have known?” He tossed a confused look her way.

“I could have gone home earlier and eliminated the whole mess.”

“Alina, I’d have stayed and worked alone. No matter how you look at our situation, I still would have been here. And if you think about it, I should apologize to you for not insisting that you leave with Fred.”

She said nothing but opened the door. The water slapped against the side of the truck. Thunder rumbled, and she instantly pulled the door shut. Terror shone in her eyes.

“We have to do this,” he said. “We cannot stay in the truck.” He remembered years ago when Alina had become ill during a severe thunderstorm. “I’m going to come around and get you. I don’t want you falling.” He spoke slowly, wanting her to grasp every word.

“Don’t—don’t forget your computer.”

“I managed it before, and I will again.” He refused to comment that his laptop might not make it to the building. Right now, he wasn’t so sure they would.

“And you have a plan?”

The defeat in Alina’s voice alarmed him. She was frightened. And so was he. “Let’s pray first.” He reached for her hand and lowered his head. “Lord, we’re surrounded by water, and we need to make it back to the building. Daylight is fading, and a storm is closing in. You know all the obstacles against us, but I want to remind You. Go before us, Lord. We need You.” He glanced up at her. “I’m not poetic when it comes to prayer. I tell Him how I feel and ask for guidance.”

She nodded. “It was … perfect. I’ll wait until you come around.”

Ryan opened the truck door, dreading the initial step. As his boots filled with water, he sank to midcalf. The cold water nearly took his breath away. He gritted his teeth while clutching the computer bag. “This isn’t bad.” By the time he made his way to the passenger side, she’d opened the door and appeared ready to attempt the trek to the building.

“Let’s hurry, please.” Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a crash of thunder.

In the short time it took for her to utter those words, Ryan realized nothing mattered but to get her to safety. He tossed the computer bag onto the truck seat and grabbed her hand. “I’ll come back for this later. We’ll make it, Alina. I promise you.”
Lord, help me to keep this promise
.

Hand in hand, they waded through the water over the road. He kept his sights on the two-story brick building, and his fingers wrapped around Alina’s. “Talk to me. Tell me, what’s the first thing you’ll do when we get back to Flash?”

“Thank God for keeping us safe and peel off these wet clothes.” Her teeth chattered.

“Do you have an extra set?”

“No, but the service people usually do. We—we both will need to change.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I’ll probably want to cry because of this horrible mess we’re in, but I’ll do my best not to.”

He smiled. “I don’t mind. Maybe I’ll cry with you.”

“Real men cry?” she asked.

“Absolutely.” Ryan remembered what losing her had done to him. Yes, real men wept buckets when they were upset. The evening shadows spread, signaling the imminent cloak of darkness. His gaze swept from right to left; if only he knew for certain where the ditches bordered the road. A wrong step could prove disastrous. An image of water covering their heads and washing them down the street formed in his mind.

“I hate electrical storms.” Alina’s voice bordered on hysteria.

“I know.” He squeezed her hand a bit tighter. “Think back to what your dad used to do when you were afraid.”

“I’m surprised you remember, but he sat me on his lap and held me tight.”

“Picture God doing the same thing. There’s no need to be afraid. He has you within His fingertips.”

“You haven’t forgotten a thing, have you?” she asked.

“I hope not. Memories were all I had left of you.” He stopped himself before he said more.

“I wonder if we had known God back then, if things might have turned out differently,” she said.

We have God now. What’s stopping us?
“We can’t go back, Alina. We can only look to the future.”

The journey seemed to take forever. He weighed the gravity of crossing the road, knowing that falling into the depth of the ditch could be their demise. The shadows played tricks on his memory, and with the power outage, his sense of direction became distorted. This must be what complete trust was all about.

The storm sounded closer, like a dog on their heels. One more step. One more step. In the ever-darkening sky, the lightning lit a brighter path above them. Alina whimpered. He would carry her if she wanted him to. She stumbled, and he righted her before she fell. Their umbrella did little good, for the wind twisted it and turned it inside out.

“We’re close,” he said. “It won’t be long now.”

At last their feet touched on the building’s concrete steps. Ryan wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her to the door. He opened it wide.

“I forgot to lock it.” She muffled a sob. “And I’m so glad.”

He squeezed her waist lightly, and she stiffened. Not much had changed, but this time frustration surfaced.

“Does it bother you that much for me to touch you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. When you were afraid to step out of the truck, I wasn’t repulsive. And when the thunder and lightning caused you to nearly fall, my hand must have felt pretty good, because you didn’t let go.” He recognized his harsh words were from stress, but he didn’t stop them. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re human.”

Friday, 6:30 p.m
.

He’s right. How can I be so insensitive?
Alina fought the urge to let Ryan hold her. He had every right to be furious with her. One minute she warmed up to him, and the next she treated him like last week’s trash. She wanted to admit her feelings for him, even if they could never be together. She wanted his strong arms around her while the angry water swirled outside. Without Ryan she’d still be sitting in the service van, slowly drowning while thunder and lightning paralyzed her.