Page 53 of Crash Over Us

Leaving it on only wasted what battery life was left. I twisted the volume control until it clicked with finality. We were on our own. Alone.

The air had already become muggy inside the cottage, stifling. The rain pelted the thin glass of the windows in intervals that lasted longer each time. Sideways rain was inevitable in these kinds of storms, but it sounded as if it was chipping away at the glass. Chipping away at the shingles and the siding. Grinding down our shelter.

The grayness of the squall had taken over, settling on the sound with giant tentacles that stretched far beyond what our eyes could pinpoint.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“What is it?” Margot’s eyes follow mine.

“The end of the pier.” I pointed and we watched as the farthest boards popped in the violent slosh of tide and wind, and flipped onto the small beach next to the marina. “It’s getting worse. Fast.”

It was only the beginning. The nails and screws that held the dock together were up against the turbulence. The boards flew through the air like the keys being ripped off a piano. Margot ducked involuntarily when one landed in the yard.

She clutched my arm. Our eyes locked.

“The tide is rising,” I reported.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. I thought I had time to leave.”

“The sound shouldn’t be this rough.” I didn’t want to accept that the storm was so far off course and all the predictions so inaccurate that we were in danger because we stayed behind.

I knew I had interrupted Margot’s plans to go to my parents’ house. But once we saw each other, we knew the conversations we had in front of us weren’t going to happen over there. We had to stay at the cottage and sort everything out.

We lost power four hours ago, but neither of us was concerned until now. I was starting to think I had prioritized the wrong things.

Now, when I watched the white caps whip into the bulkhead and approach the porch. Now, as I observed the flowers folded over in protest to the salt water.

“We’re stuck, aren’t we?” she whispered.

My strong fingers circled hers, drawing her hand toward mine. “I think we should move to the upstairs closet,” I explained. I didn’t want to scare her.

Margot nodded, ready to follow me along the steps.

“I’ll grab the flashlights, candles, and radio. You get the snacks and drinks, babe.” I winked, a tiny reassurance that we could make it through this together. We lingered in front of the kitchen sink.

My fingers brushed her hip, my thumb indenting at her waist. I looked in her eyes, sifting through the gaze that landed on me.

My eyes suddenly narrowed as I yanked her hand and jerked her away from the kitchen windows. My body sprang forward, pulling Margot with me.

“Run!” I yelled.

Margot sprinted behind me. There wasn’t time to tell her what I saw. “In here.” I held the door open under the staircase, and she ducked under my arm into the darkness.

I wrapped my limbs around her as we crouched on the floor together. Her eyes squeezed together. Our breathing was short and erratic. The warmth of the cedar closet was almost suffocating, but I wouldn’t let go of her, and she wasn’t going to let go of me.

The howl of the waterspout was deafening.

We’d never prayed together before, but we did now, murmuring promises and commitments we didn’t know if we could keep, but were willing to barter.

My lips pressed into her temple. “Babe, it’s quiet. I think it’s passed over us.”

“It’s gone?” she eked slowly.

I cracked open the closet door.

“Let’s go back to plan A.” I turned to face her.

“We can’t go to your parents’ house now.”

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