Flash Flood (18 page)

He snatched up a flashlight and disappeared. She took a deep breath, certain her frenzied nerves would encourage the contents of her stomach to come back up. That was a possibility she’d rather not consider. Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength and courage—and a quick rescue.

Alina had seen a paper bag in the drawer. First she snatched up the matches, candles, batteries, light sticks, and paper towels. Atop those items, she put the fruit, cheese, meat, bread, and chips. She’d gather up the water bottles on the next trip.

Ryan suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Hurry, Alina. Water is coming in the front and back doors.”

Friday, 7:45 p.m
.

Ryan left Alina in the break room and went to move all he could upstairs. His fears concerned not only the first floor but the second one as well. With no end to the rain in sight, Flash Communications held no barrier to the rising water. He prayed a rescue team would park their boat outside the building long before Alina learned the precariousness of their circumstances.

He grabbed an extra flashlight, then the clothing items she’d found. He also gathered up their wet clothes. But by the time he started up the stairs, he wondered why. It would take a long time for them to dry, and he hoped to be far from Flash Communications before then.

His vision fought to adjust to the second floor’s darkness. Even with the flashlight teetering atop his load, he kept bumping into one thing after another. He knew desks and file cabinets divided up the area, but he hadn’t memorized where. Finally he set it all down and turned on the lantern. With the extra batteries, they were in good shape. He simply didn’t want Alina in complete darkness when they were finally forced upstairs.

Once he divided up the items, he hurried back down for Fred’s equipment. His office was nearest the door; it would be the first to receive water damage. In his mind, a list began to form of computers and paper files taking priority. His boots sank into rapidly rising water.
Time, Lord; I need time
.

Alina appeared in Fred’s office with her hands full. “Unless you give me a list, I’m taking what I feel is important,” she said.

“Do what you think is best.” Ryan unplugged Fred’s computer and wound up the cord. “I wish we had blankets. I’m worried about you getting sick.”

“I’ll be fine.” Alina adjusted the load in her arms. “My head is swimming …” She obviously checked herself for what she’d said. “Ryan, I’ve never been so frightened.”

“I understand. Another reason for us to keep busy.”

“We can’t get everything upstairs in time.” Desperation nudged at her words. “I’m not whining, just feeling helpless.”

He opened desk drawers and pulled out various files he thought were important. The flashlight shined on a picture of Marta and two other photos that must have been Fred’s kids and grandkids. He lifted the computer into his arms and piled the papers and photos from the desk drawers on top. “Pray. All we can do is our best. God will honor our efforts.”

She expelled a heavy sigh. “You know, it’s a blessing Fred isn’t here with his heart problems. Marta told me in confidence about the seriousness of his condition.”

“You’re right. He told me his heart needed some repair work. Anyway, we youngsters can handle this until help arrives.” Ryan no more felt like being humorous than he wanted to swim to safety. But if he admitted his well-founded fears, Alina would be hysterical.

“I hope so. I pray so.” She turned and disappeared into the dark hallway, and in another moment he maneuvered his way toward the back stairway.

“Alina,” he called, “grab the radio and bring the files left on our desks.” He remembered the important files stuffed in his computer bag, no doubt floating in the service truck by now. Some of those documents should have been shredded, but little good his observation did now. Another thought needled at him. At the first sign of possible flooding, Neon executives should have received a call advising them of the situation here. Instead he’d underestimated the danger. His actions would not look good on his next performance evaluation.

Mr. Independence, his family had labeled him. “Can’t tell him a thing,” his mother had said.

“If Ryan doesn’t have the answer to something, he’ll not own up to it,” his little brother said last Christmas when the family thought he’d gone for extra firewood. “I don’t like talking to him about a college major or my plans for a career, because he has all the answers and isn’t interested in what I have to say.”

Admittedly so, Ryan prided himself on being in control—almost to the point of using manipulation. Not a thing to be proud of. If he’d learned one lesson today, it was that God held the title of knowing all the answers and possessing all the control. As he sloshed through the water, it occurred to him that this lesson had been a hard one to learn.

Lord, forgive me for my arrogance. My family needs a Christian man who listens with both ears and not with his ego. If I’m given the opportunity, I’ll apologize and do a better job of pleasing You
.

For the next forty-five minutes, the two managed to carry several computers, three printers, a fax machine, and other valuable equipment to the second floor. All the while water seeped in beneath the doors, reminding him of the perils all around them. Ryan and Alina battled nature and a river that climbed its banks like a huge sea monster longing to escape the trenches of the deep. He pushed the image from his mind. Later when they were safe, he’d internalize the meaning of today’s events and the way he intended to let the day impact his life forever.

He heard Alina splashing her way toward him. Odd how her boots made different sounds than his. “How are your arms holding out?” He carried a small filing cabinet by Deidre’s desk.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. He heard her open a cabinet in their office.

“Don’t worry about those files in the top drawer. They’ve been entered in the database and backed up at the home office.”

“What about the second drawer?”

“We need all of them, if possible. Concentrate on the paper trails, and don’t try to lift any more of the equipment. You’ll hurt your back—and then I’ll have to carry you.” She had to be exhausted, and humor looked like the only way to slow her down.

“I’m okay, really. Must be adrenaline tearing through me, and banging around masks the thunder.”

He hadn’t paid attention to the weather outside. “One storm after another must be passing through. I feel sorry for those out in boats looking for trapped victims.”

“I think I could handle almost anything but standing in water during an electrical storm. Somebody would have to give me a valium injection—triple dose.” She laughed, but Ryan heard the trepidation in her voice. She glanced around. “When we’re rescued, we could face what I just said.”

“Oh, you’ll be so glad we’re heading for dry ground, it won’t matter.” He recalled the way she used to ask questions when she was nervous or upset. His Alina—how well he knew her habits.

“What happens to the buyout if a lot of these things are damaged?”

“The deal’s done,” Ryan said. “All of Flash belongs to Neon.”

“Then Fred’s been paid?”

“Yes, but the business is managed jointly with Neon until the end of the transition period.”

She nodded. “I see. We’re helping both companies by transporting equipment and files upstairs.”

“Right. But, my dear tiger woman, let me emphasize that neither company wants you hurt in the process. By the way, are your feet thawed?”

“Hmm, about the same.”

“When you take this load upstairs, why don’t you take a break? Pull off those boots and wrap your feet in a couple of those sweatshirts.”

“I’ll consider it in a little while.”

“As your boss, I’m ordering you to make an effort to get warm.”

“Ah, but I’m a stubborn woman.” He didn’t comment. No need to.

Alina watched Ryan disappear up the stairs with Deidre’s file cabinet. She had slipped to a state of vulnerability with him. How easy it would be to confess her heart. How easy it would be to tell him he’d matured into a wonderful man and a capable executive. How easy it would be to tell him she remembered every moment of their two years together—to tell him she loved him with her whole heart. How easy … Shrugging away the misery accompanying her musings, Alina lifted out the files from the second drawer of her file cabinet and laid them in a cardboard box. She’d located two boxes in a storeroom and used them to carry the files upstairs, unload them, and repeat the process. The idea of stumbling to the wet floor and soaking the files Ryan needed for the transition bothered her—bothered her a lot. After all, she’d made a commitment to do her best in the three-month process. Already, she had a positive nibble on her résumé—a Columbus pipe company needed someone with a solid computer background. She’d schedule a follow-up on Monday, along with recruiting a headhunter to help out in the job search. Job security meant the time remaining with Flash would pass by more positively.

Conviction moved her to center her prayers on all the others who could be equally devastated by layoffs. She had a problem of self-centeredness, not exactly a characteristic she relished.

“Alina, you are the most giving person I know,” Deidre once told her. “You care for Anna not only with your time but with your money. And look at what you do for others at Flash. Birthday cakes for everyone. Perky cards that take time to select. When it’s raining you bring in donuts. My kids love your chocolate chip cookies. No, you are not self-centered.”

Alina could have listed the selfishness oozing from her being, like the times she avoided James because she thought he was a redneck, or avoided the servicemen after a hard day’s work because they smelled of sweat, or avoided Jackie in the new-order department because she snapped her gum while she spoke. “Condescension” was not listed as a spiritual gift. And then she had picky eating habits and refused to patronize some restaurants, often causing awkward situations with friends. The list went on and on.

Lord, I’m not trying to bargain here, but when Ryan and I are rescued, I’ll do a better job of serving You. Today has proven how quickly life and the things of earth can be snatched away. This world may not be as I’d like it, but it is what You planned for me
.

She hoisted the box of files into her arms. At first, the water spread over the tile beneath her feet, freezing her toes. Now her feet were numb, and the soaked pant legs of her jeans dragged heavily. The water level circled above her calves, and she found it harder and harder to move. A quick glimpse at the lighted dial on her watch showed that the water was rising much faster than in the beginning. She and Ryan raced against time.

Her ears had seemingly grown accustomed to the pounding rain outside. It needed to stop before more people were hurt and property destroyed. For the moment, the storms had subsided.

Ryan’s shadow emerged from the doorway. “Have you tried your cell phone lately? Maybe it’s working.” The confident timbre in his voice gave her a little more strength.

She handed him the box and retrieved her phone from her jeans pocket. She pressed 911, but no voice greeted her, only a busy tone. “Nothing,” she said. “I’ll keep trying.”

Ryan had yet to find out she had nothing on her feet, not that it mattered now, since the water splashed at her knees. Pushing aside the discomfort, she pulled out another drawer and set it on her desk before the water reached the files. She’d removed the bottom drawer only a few minutes before. Soon they’d have to climb to higher ground. When she considered all the equipment about to float, she forced her frozen legs and tired arms into action for one more load.

Come Monday, when Fred and Ryan phoned the insurance company, she’d pride herself on these heroic attempts—even if they benefited Neon Interchange.

“I’ll take my load back.” She reached for the box. “I’m growing real attached to these files.”

“And when you deposit it upstairs, take a break before I wrap those legs and feet myself.”

She laughed and ignored him. He’d have a fit when he learned she wasn’t wearing shoes or socks.

Friday, 10:30 p.m
.

Ryan finally realized the futility of this ridiculous attempt to move the lower office up to the second floor. Although he’d condemned his power-control efforts and inability to admit defeat, he still carried armloads up the stairs. This had to be a way to ward off insanity. And what of Alina? What strange bacteria or virus could she contract in these murky waters, besides pneumonia? He’d dump this load and demand they stop, demand they end this foolish escapade.

He cringed.
God, why is this happening? The flood? With Alina? What are You wanting me to learn?

“I don’t want you falling, and carrying all this stuff through this deep water is going to cause you to lose your balance.” His voice echoed through the building.

“Tough. I’m determined. It’s after working hours, if you hadn’t noticed.”

He smiled despite their circumstances and waded toward the doorway. “Know what?”

A drawer slammed shut. “I haven’t a clue.”