Page 78 of Mr. July

“Sure. But we should leave the dogs here for safety. Maybe we’ll run into recuse boats and will be able to contact Bunny and Charlie.”

“I’ll call Steve too. He’ll want to know who survived.”

“I bet they all did. Because of you and your big heart. But please, don’t ever do that again. I can’t lose the love of my life, just when I’ve found her.”

He held me tightly. There was still enough freshwater in the pipes to leave water for the dogs. We shut them up in the room for safety, waded through the water on the first floor and climbed into the small boat. “Think there’s enough diesel fuel?”

“If not. We’ll find plenty of stray boats.”

Chase turned the boat around, there was so much floating debris we took it slowly. I leaned over pushing larger items out of the way. “This is an environmental nightmare. Sewage, trash, the waters are filled with it.”

“Nature has a way of fixing itself. With a little help from you we’ll get our community cleaned up.”

In the light of day, it was still hard to recognize where we were. Buildings had roofs caved in; cars were submerged. Chaos and destruction surrounded us on all sides. “Chase! Over there!” I pointed to the small Mako fishing vessel bobbing in the water. It was lodged between a street sign and a floating tree. In the pocket of my jeans was still the keys to my Jeep. On the same ring were the keys to the Mako’s engine.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“There’s always something good even after the bad.” He carefully came up beside my boat. “Wait!”

But I had already climbed in. I always stored extra fuel. “The hull is intact. It’s not taking on any water. I’ll throw you a line. Pull me out and I’ll follow you.”

“Babe. It’s still dangerous out here.”

“We might need the extra room. What if there’s people like me stuck who need help?”

He sighed. “My girl, who is always thinking of others. It’s going to be my job to only think of you.”

Once the Mako was free, I turned on the engine. As we got closer to the shelter, we encountered more people out on the water searching the wreckage for any signs of survivors. Thankfully, unlike me, most had left before the storm. I sucked in a breath. The shelter stood but the water damage was extensive. Waves still rolled in over the road. The swollen water from the Bay still overflowed its banks going almost a third of the way up my back stairs. Or what was left of the stairs. If we didn’t have boats, we wouldn’t be able to get to my apartment.

“Stay here. I’ll go salvage what I can. I’ll pack you some clothes. Is there anything in particular you want?”

“My calendars, laptop and books. Don’t forget the cats.” Chase threw me the line to his boat. I tied it with my line, nervously watching as he jumped into the water, using what was left of the broken bannister to reach my door.

“Hey! Do you need help!” Two men in a rubber dingy waved their arms. I waved back,

“Do you have a phone? I was supposed to evacuate and couldn’t make it out. My family must think the worst!”

“Cell towers are down. But we can radio the Coast Guard.”

“Thanks. Mine aren’t working. The Mako survived but the antennae snapped.”

I gave them Chase’s and my information to relay that we were safe, hoping the news would reach Gran and Charlie and that we were holing up in the old historical society building with the rescue dogs until help could come.

“We’ll gather any supplies and food if we can. Would be glad to drop them off to you.”

“Thanks. We might add five cats to our tally.”

Chase opened my door. He had attached rope to the top of the cat cages, lowering them one by one. I took them, carefully depositing them into our boats.

“I’m dropping your laptop.”

I carefully caught it, securing my precious data. “Remind me to upload everything to a cloud server after this!”

Next was a duffel bag with my clothes. Chase was back in the water, carefully getting back into the boat. “I sent word to the Coast Guard we’re safe. Hopefully, Gran and Charlie will get the message.”

On our way back we spotted a few people waving sheets from roofs. News helicopters started circling overhead. “I can’t believe we survived this.”

“I do. Someone up there knew we still had a lot of life to live together.”

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