Page 2 of Where You're Planted

“Forget it,” he said, sweeping his arm impatiently toward the exit. “We have to get out of here. Assuming you can make it out of the lot without flooding your engine.”

Was the water already that high? She’d been inside less than ten minutes.

“I get it, okay?” she snapped. “You don’t have to be a jerk.”

He ran a hand over his hair and clutched the back of his neck. He looked almost chastened. But then he said, “What even is that toy car out there?”

She huffed. “It’s a Civic.” She hoisted the cage back up, its bottom edge digging uncomfortably into her stomach. If he was in such a damn hurry, he could have helped with the cage. But he clearly already thought she was incompetent, and she wasn’t about to prove him right by asking for a hand.

“If you’re gonna run around in a flood, at least have the sense to drive a truck.”

The nerve of this man. She clenched her teeth and marched ahead of him. “Noted.”

Tansy’s first step onto the slick linoleum in the foyer senther suddenly pitching forward. She fully expected to slam onto her knees, unable to break her fall without losing hold of the birds, but something hooked under her ribs and caught her mid-drop. The abrupt stop knocked the wind out of her, and all she could do for a few long seconds was open and close her mouth like a fish on land. Jack didn’t speak and didn’t immediately unhook his arm after pulling her back to standing. Finally, she caught a productive gasp, and he passed her to shove the door open, back to the business of rushing her out. NoAre you okay?NoSorry for basically Heimliching you.Well, fine.

The overhang outside blocked the downpour, but the wind whipped the rain sideways at their backs and legs as Tansy wedged the cage between her hip and the door to lock up. Jack tapped his boot impatiently. “Come on. Hurry up.” She was already rehearsing the phone call she would make come Monday to his supervisor at Lerner Botanic Gardens. That would teach him not to be an asshole when his place of business and his name were embroidered right there on his shirt.

But as Tansy fantasized about his comeuppance, the rain-slick keys slipped her grasp and fell into the water. It churned above the curbs now, licking the underside of her car in the lot, sloshing up near her license plate. She froze, overwhelmed by the sudden lake between her car and the exit.

“Which one?” Jack had her keys now.

“The big one.”

He jammed it in quickly then dragged her away by her elbow. Rain beat with incredible force on her head and shoulders. His strides were too long, and she tripped after him. Jack indelicately manhandled the birdcage between the door frame and her folded-down front seat, then shoved the seat back into place with a loudthunk. When he turned to find her still frozen on the curb, he snapped, “Get. In.”

On principle, Tansy didn’t take orders from assholes. But in this case, with water sloshing onto her floorboard, she obeyed without a word.

“Follow me close,” he shouted over the rain, ducking his face near hers. “Stay on my bumper. The lot dips through the middle there. If you stop, you won’t make it. Got it?”

“Like…how close?” Her hands were slick on the steering wheel.

“Close. My truck will push the water out, but it’s gonna flow right back at you if you stop.”

“Okay, but—” Shit, she was suddenly so scared. She was sure he could see it all over her face, in the tremble of her chin and her wide eyes.

If he did notice, he had no patience for her panic. “Whatever you do, don’t fucking stop,” he said and then slammed the door.

Tansy followed his huge truck as closely as she could, tapping frequently on her brakes so she didn’t ram him, then lurching to catch back up. Just like he’d said, his truck pushed up high walls of water on either side of Tansy’s car. Her heart was fully lodged in her throat, hands clenched around the wheel so tightly they ached.

As they crossed the center of the lot, Tansy’s headlights submerged and dimmed, and for one brief, terrifying moment, all the warning lights on the dashboard flashed on. She was sure she was going to stall right there. Would Jack stop or just leave her behind? What if she got trapped? If she couldn’t push her door open? The power windows wouldn’t work. She didn’t have one of those window-breaker things. Why had she never bought one of those?

Tansy couldn’t breathe. She hunched forward over the steering wheel, nearly pressing her forehead to the windshield.

But just as quickly as the warning lights flashed on, they blinked off, and her car kept going. Soon they were ascending the slope of the lot up onto the road. Jack pulled through the gate and parked on the shoulder. On his jog back to lock the gate, he bent to meet her eyes through her window. Despite the rain and chaos, he didn’t break away immediately, just held his gaze on her and saw her face crumple with the threat of tears before she controlled it. He nodded as if to say,I know. And for that brief moment, Tansy felt seen and okay. Then a loud bang on the roof of her car startled her—his fist—and he waved her on.

The short drive home was a panic-ridden eternity. Even on the most aggressive setting, her windshield wipers barely cleared the rain for brief glimpses of the street ahead of her. After hydroplaning twice, her stomach plunging to the floorboard both times, Tansy steered to the higher middle of the road. She couldn’t even see the center line, could only guess where it was.

Finally, Tansy pulled into her driveway, half of which had disappeared into the wide canal the road had become. Teeth chattering so violently it hurt, she killed the ignition, hugged the steering wheel, and sobbed.

Once she composed herself enough to mask her distress from Briar, she muscled the birdcage from the back seat and hissed shakily into the parachute cover, “Sure hope you’re worth all that, you lucky little shits.”

2

Jack

By the sixth rescue run of the evening, Jack was soaked through, his fingers pruned and his hair stuck to his neck under his drenched cap. He cut the motor and let the boat drift for a moment, straining through the beating rain to listen for anyone calling out.

“We got another address?” he shouted to Omar at the bow, wiping rain from his face with his wet forearm. The last two houses they’d checked had already been picked up. Good for those families, but the chaos of this whole operation exacerbated Jack’s already frayed nerves from the constant beating rain, the discomfort of wet clothes, and the frustratingly limited visibility. Other volunteers who were not coordinating with the fire department were making their own runs, and Jack couldn’t shake the certainty that while some folks were getting checked on two or three times after sending out pleasto friends, to emergency services, and on social media, others must be going unnoticed.

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