Page 35 of South of Nowhere

These rules had been learned long before she thought of starting a disaster response company. In the Shaw household years ago, Ashton had taught the children about the dangers of the invisible force.

Never touch an appliance in a flooded area, even the outer housing.

Never stand in water that has risen above the level of electrical outlets.

Never trust that there are ground-fault circuit interrupters, as there might still be live outlets and wires not connected to them.

Never approach downed power lines.

So much to safeguard against…

She passed a house that had been pointed out to her earlier, thedarkened residence of the county supervisor. What was his name again? It was distinguished…That’s right: Prescott Moore. It was in disrepair and the yard even more badly overgrown than it had seemed from the command post. She recalled the man had moved to Fort Pleasant, presumably—and understandably—because of his wife’s death last year. Why had he kept this house, though?

She paused, noting that there appeared to be fresh footprints leading from the sidewalk around to a side door, then back again. She walked up to the front and peered in. It was a mess, almost as if it had been ransacked, but more likely abandoned quickly by the last surviving occupant.

There was no answer when she knocked loudly so she turned back to the sidewalk.

Noting the flickering light from a TV inside the next house she came to, a single-family home squatting on a lot not much bigger than the structure’s footprint, she approached and rang the bell.

A young mother—her two toddler sons were in front of the TV, watching Pixar—greeted her with a cautious smile that vanished when she saw Dorion’s name on a lanyard. It was hardly official, just her laminated company ID with a picture, but the card, along with Dorion’s demeanor, suggested stern authority.

The woman blinked in shock at the news.

“Oh, those voices, the loudspeaker. I couldn’t understand them, then the car or truck was past. I thought it might be an election thing.”

Dorion told her to leave immediately—either to friends or family outside of the valley or to the college.

“It’s that bad?”

“Yes.”

“My God…” She ducked her head out and looked at the waterfall that the levee had become. The gray sky glinted in the surface of the water as it flowed relentlessly over the side. “My parents’re in Salinas but I’m not driving in this stuff.” A nod at the stormy sky. “I’ll go to the college.”

“Okay, get there now. And when you leave, lock up.”

The woman frowned. “We don’t really bother with that. It’s Nowhere.”

“It’s what?”

“Nowhere. That’s the nickname for Hinowah. It’s a nice place. Nobody’d break in.”

“Lock up anyway…”

“You mean, people would actually rob somebody? A time like this?”

Yes, people actually would. Dorion told her so.

“Good Lord.”

Marshaling the children up, the young woman said over her shoulder, “You’re going house to house?”

“That’s right.”

“Two doors up, to the right, that big house? It’s Mrs. Petaluma. She’s Indian. I mean Native American. I don’t think her English is real good. Never says a word. Might be deaf and mute.”

Hadn’t one of the local officers mentioned the woman?

“I’ll check on her. Take only a change of clothes, medicine, computer, phone and charger. That’s all.”

---