Solace (Devastation Trilogy Book 2) Page 21

  I know if I try heading toward the street that the water will end up over my head.

  And, I realize, the water’s still rising.

  Rising fast.

  Obviously, trying to get somewhere else isn’t going to happen right now, so I need to vertically evacuate.

  The building behind mine has a red maple tree on the back side of it that’s close to the roof, so I make my way over there. By the time I reach the tree, the water’s almost up to my hips.

  I haven’t climbed a tree since I was a fucking kid, but you bet your ass I started climbing that sonofabitch. I nearly fall trying to ease my way along the lowest branch to reach the roof, and skin both my hands and my shins and calves hanging on in the process. But when I finally drop onto the roof, my legs tremble so bad they won’t support me, thanks to the adrenaline jolting through me.

  I hadn’t had time to be scared before. I kept moving, instincts driving me.

  Now, as I collapse onto that roof and lie there shaking from fear and shivering from being cold and wet, I realize I am in a very serious fucking situation.

  And I’ve never felt more scared in my damn life.

  * * * *

  I don’t know how long I lie there, but the rain, which had eased up a little, pours down again, so hard I can barely see twenty yards around me. I don’t spot anyone else up on nearby roofs, but during a brief break in the rain my new vantage reveals to me something that makes my balls shrivel in terror.

  I am in a very serious fucking situation.

  The Cumberland has exploded from its banks, leaving me to wonder if there was a dam failure or floodgate malfunction somewhere upriver, or if this is due to all the rainfall. The parking lot of Nissan Stadium is completely flooded by several feet of water, and I’m assuming the stadium’s interior is, too. As far as I can see, there’s water.

  There’s no way I was wading out of this.

  In the distance, I spot boats running where there are usually streets, but none close enough to me that I can easily signal them.

  The water’s risen another couple of feet since I’ve been on the roof. That’s when, below me, I hear a sound that fills me with dread.

  A barking dog.

  I locate which apartment it’s in, and realize the poor thing’s probably going to drown if I don’t figure out how to help it. I shuck my backpack and jacket and use the tree to lower myself into the flood waters.

  Fortunately, I can kick out a front window in the apartment and call out to the dog. It barks at me.

  I swim into the apartment and locate it frantically paddling around in the hall, looks like some sort of terrier mix, about thirty pounds or so, white and tan. I’ve seen it around before and think a young couple owns it. It heads toward me and I grab it and pray it doesn’t bite the fuck out of me.

  It doesn’t. It desperately clings to me and licks my face.

  Not sure how I’ll get us back up onto the roof, but we can’t stay down here. I swim out of the apartment through the window, the dog still clinging to me.

  I want to kill its fucking owners. What the fuck is wrong with someone that they’d leave their dog behind to die?

  Then I have an idea.

  I stand on top of one of the AC units, and that allows me enough extra height to boost the dog by its butt so it can gain purchase on the roof with its paws and scramble up to safety.

  Yay. One problem solved.

  I have barely enough energy to get myself back up the tree and onto the roof. The dog follows my progress, waiting for me, barking at me and wagging its tail as I climb the tree and once again negotiate the damn limb over the roof. When I finally make it, the dog is all over me—no shit, I’d be happy to see me, too, if I just saved me from drowning—and licking my face.

  It’s a girl, and a tag on her collar says her name is Petula. She shakes the water off her fur and wiggles against me, happy. Joyous, even.

  I, however, am in bad shape. I’m fucking shivering even worse than before. I return to my stuff, put my raincoat on, and the backpack, and hug the dog to me. At least she’s a little bit of warmth.

  All through the morning, the rain intermittently pelts us. Every time it slacks off, I stand up and keep watch for rescuers. A couple of times, helicopters fly overhead, but I don’t know if they see us or not. I watch them plucking people off roofs in the distance, so I know the situation is bad, and they’re probably overwhelmed with distress calls.

  It’s almost eleven when I finally spot a boat nearby. Both Petula and I are jumping up and down, the dog doing it more I think because she thinks it’s a game. She keeps looking up at me like she’s asking me if she’s doing it right as she barks while I wave my arms and scream for help.

  It’s a Wildlife Resources boat, manned by a uniformed officer. There are several other survivors in it already, and I’m nearly in tears when they head my way.

  “Are you all right, sir?” he asks.

  “I will be now,” I tell him.

  “Any injuries?”

  “Just wet and freezing, and ready to get to dry land.

  First he hands me up an orange life vest. After I put that on, he says, “Hand me your dog.”

  “She’s not mine. I rescued her from one of the apartments. They left her behind. I kicked a window in to save her.”

  He looks as enraged as I felt before I froze my ass off on this roof. “We should file a report about that once we get you to land.”

  “Oh, believe me, I plan to. For now, she can stay with me.”

  The other survivors help the officer get her into the boat before I ease myself down and off the roof.

  This is definitely worse than the 2010 flood—by a lot.

  The wildlife officer transports us to a staging area on Gallatin Avenue, depositing us in what is usually the middle of a street. Once we hand over our life vests, he immediately takes off again in search of other survivors.

  We’re met by Red Cross volunteers who hand out emergency mylar blankets. I take one for me and one for the dog, wrapping us both in them. They’re waiting for a vehicle to transport us to an emergency shelter.

  I wonder if I’m going to have to be a dick, pull rank, and get law enforcement involved to keep Petula with me, but fortunately they let me take her on the city bus that arrives to transport us.

  My fellow refugees look shell-shocked. I know I’m better off than probably most of them, because I have renter’s insurance and the means with which to put my life back together again.

  Not like I haven’t been a refugee before.

  I let Petula sit in my lap and she happily pants as she stares out the window. To her, this is an adventure.

  To my fellow refugees, this is earth-shattering, life-altering.

  To me…

  It’s a really fucking bad Sunday.

  Perspective.

  I tip my head back and close my eyes and silently apologize to Casey and George, because I know they have to be going crazy right now worried about me.

  And I can’t remember either of their numbers to call them from someone else’s phone.

  * * * *

  We stop at several other staging areas to pick up more survivors. They all wear the same stunned look, unless they’re crying.

  Most of the kids are crying.

  There are three other dogs on leashes and four cats in carriers added to the passengers. In some cases, all the survivors carried out with them were their pets.

  I hug my new best friend a little more tightly. There’s a phone number on her tag.

  You better believe I plan on calling these assholes as soon as I get my hands on a goddamned phone. If they thought their lives went to shit when the flood waters rose, they ain’t seen nothing yet like a pissed off attorney with a grudge to burn and state law enforcement resources at his lover’s beck and call.

  It’s nearly one in the afternoon when we’re deposited at a church that’s serving as an emergency shelter. I register first thing, and one of the volunteers comes
up with a piece of paracord I can use as an emergency leash for my new best buddy. I get a couple of towels and blankets, too, and I can change into dry clothes, so I’m finally warm even though my sneakers are still wet and squishy and I feel absolutely gross from having been in the flood waters.

  I also get some warm soup into me, snag some bread for Petula, and water for both of us.

  Then, and only then, do I finally hunt down a Metro cop who’s stationed at the shelter entrance. “Can you please get in touch Lt. Carlton Payne from the EPU for me? I’m with the governor’s office. I need to get in contact with them.”

  He warily eyes me. “No offense, sir? I’m going to need to see some ID.”

  I wearily sit on the floor and Petula is all over me, happily licking my face. “It’s buried in my bag. I’m going to open it. I am not armed.” Thankfully, I left my gun locked in the small gun safe bolted to the shelf in my closet. I can only imagine the shitstorm that would cause if I was armed.

  He warily nods and watches me, his hand on the grip of his sidearm.

  Moving slowly, I pull the zipper bag out with my wallet in it and let him see it before I open it. I hand him my wallet, my state employee photo ID badge, and he tells me to hold on while he calls it in on his radio.

  I take some satisfaction in the way his eyes widen at the response he gets from his dispatcher when she comes back on the line. She demands to know if I’m safe, and orders him to leave his post and immediately transport me to another location.

  Post haste.

  As in he’d better move his fucking ass and run lights and siren.

  Yes, I’m smug when he returns my wallet and ID to me. “Sorry, Mr. Howard,” he says. “Let’s get you where you need to be. Sounds like they’ve been looking for you.”

  “Yeah,” I say as I shove my stuff back into my bag. “Let’s just do that.”

  I’m having to ride in the back of a marked police unit for the second time in my life, and he’s running lights and sirens, but this time I don’t mind so much.

  Petula is absolutely loving this shit. The girl is all over the backseat, bouncing around and happy, wagging her tail.

  When we roll into the shopping center parking lot where the National Guard is being staged, we drive up to a mobile command RV. The MNPD officer no sooner opens the back door for me and helps me and Petula out when the front door of the trailer explodes open, and George, followed by Casey, runs out and practically tackles me against the side of the squad car.

  “Oh, thank god!” George says. “Do you have any fricking idea how worried we’ve been?” I’m pretty sure he’s going in for a kiss, but Casey pulls him up short with that sound, even as she’s hugging me from behind.

  “You’re soooo getting spanked,” she mutters in my ear. “Fuck, you scared us to death.”

  “My phones died,” I said. “They fell in the flood water before I woke up. Sorry I scared you.”

  They finally get the hugging out of the way and process I’m uninjured and not alone.

  “Who’s your friend?” Casey asks.

  I give them the quick run-down, and both of them look angry as they pet my new buddy.

  “You’ll stay with me,” they both say, then they look at each other. “No, me.”

  I burst out laughing. “You know what? When you two decide who gets custody of me and when, and for how long, let me know. Meanwhile, I need a fucking leash for my new dog.”

  One of the K-9 officers on duty actually has a spare leash in his unit that he gets for me, so one problem solved. Once we’re inside the command trailer, I borrow Casey’s private cell phone and dial the number on the dog’s ID tag.

  I think I’m going to have to leave an angry voice mail, but an upset-sounding woman answers. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, my name’s Declan Howard. I’m calling from Nashville. Am I speaking to Petula’s owner?”

  She starts crying. “Please tell me she’s safe!”

  Fury takes hold of my soul, such that it makes my tantrum that day in the parking lot in Casey’s car look like a hiccup. “Yeah, no thanks to you assholes. I heard her barking and broke in to save her. She could have drowned! I—”

  “Oh, my god, thank you! We’re out of town at my grandfather’s funeral this weekend. Our neighbor was supposed to be taking care of her. They forgot about her when they evacuated.”

  My anger immediately evaporates. “You weren’t home?”

  “No. They called us a little while ago in hysterics. They’re trying to find a boat who will take them back in.”

  I take a deep breath and see Casey staring at me with an arched eyebrow.

  “Okay, look. She’s safe with me for right now. Can you even take her back?”

  “We’re still in Oklahoma. I don’t know where we’re going to live right now.” She cries harder. “Thank you for saving her for us. She’s our baby. Thank you so much!”

  Now I feel shitty that I went off on her. “Look, I lost my phone in the flood. I’m going to pass you over to the woman whose phone I just called you from. She’s a friend of mine, and she’s going to take your information, give you hers and mine, and you take as long as you need, okay? I promise, I’ll take care of her and keep her with me.” I love dogs. I love animals, period. But with my usual schedule, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to own one.

  “Thank you!”

  I hand the phone over to Casey, who smiles as she turns away and goes in search of something to write with as she talks to the woman.

  George walks over and sits next to me. “Petula, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pets her and she happily wags. I know he wants to say something, but he’s wary of everyone around us.

  Finally, he looks at me, and I see the tears in his eyes. “You’ll live with me,” he whispers. “We’ll say you’re renting a room from Casey, and you’ll go back and forth. Okay? Please? If we can convince her to stay with us, even better.”

  I wearily nod. “Whatever you say, Sir. I’m too exhausted to argue. Like I said, you two figure it out and tell me where I’m supposed to be and when.”

  “I love you, Dec.”

  “Love you, too, George.”

  He pats me on the thigh and leaves his hand there, squeezing. “You scared the fuck out of me. Out of both of us.”

  “Sorry. My phones were in the water by the time I woke up. I guess I need waterproof cases from now on.”

  He laughs. “You think?” He reaches over and pets Petula again. “Ellen felt bad she was allergic to dogs. She loved them, though. That’s why the kids always volunteered at the animal shelter. They could get dog-walking time in, and Ellen didn’t have to go get allergy shots all the time.”

  “Ah. I wondered why that was.”

  “Yeah.” He scratches her head. “How long is she staying with us?”

  “I guess until her owners can take her back.” I relate the conversation.

  “I’m glad you rescued her.”

  “I couldn’t let her drown.”

  Casey returns. “Okay, got that handled. I’m going to run over to the pet store here in the complex and get what you’ll need for her.” Then we’ll have the detail drive you back to George’s.”

  “But I need to work.”

  “No, you need to take the rest of the damn day off.” She walks over and leans in, hugging me. “I’ll bring your clothes over later when I come to spend the night.”

  I sigh. “Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”

  “Your car, however, is stuck in the parking garage for the duration. It’s fine, but the streets around there are flooded.”

  “If there’s any way for me to get to it, my work and personal laptops and luggage from this weekend are in there. That’s at least three days of clothes I’ll have.”

  “We’ll see what we can do,” George says. “Leave your keys with Casey. And, oh, Aussie and Ashleigh are staying at the house for a couple of days. They closed the university.”

  Well, that’s just wonderful. “You
sure you don’t want me to stay at Casey’s?”

  He drops his voice again. “When I get home, if your ass isn’t in my bedroom, or at least in my house, you’re going to get the bad kind of spanking.”

  Casey bursts out laughing. “That’s more a promise than a punishment to the boy,” she notes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  An hour later, an EPU officer is driving me back to George’s. We have to go the long way around because of all the flooding, though. They have some officers going to the office building later today in a high-water vehicle to take some staff there, so they’ll get my stuff from my Jag then and bring it to George’s for me. At least I’ll be able to work once that happens.

  Petula’s loving all this riding today. When we pull up to the front of George’s house, Aussie rushes out and nearly tackles me with a hug before I can even fully get out of the SUV.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I say. “Good to see you, too.”

  Ashleigh isn’t far behind her and also hugs me. “They were trying to find you,” Aussie says. “They were so upset.”

  “Yeah, well, I was pretty upset, too.”

  They take Petula and help me bring all the things Casey bought for her—which feels like half a damn pet store, to be honest—and unload them into the house. They also offer to take charge of her while I go upstairs and soak in a tub full of hot water. I don’t know what the hell was in that flood water I was paddling around in, but it feels good to finally be clean and warm.

  I pull on briefs and shorts, but I grab George’s robe and wrap it around me before I head downstairs with my dirty clothes to wash them. The robe smells like him and that my mind and heart are instantly calmed by that says a lot, doesn’t it?

  In the kitchen, I discover Aussie’s got a casserole in the oven, and—

  “Did you already bathe the dog?” I ask.

  Petula looks up and wags her tail. She definitely looks cleaner than she did. She now has snazzy new food and water dishes on the floor in one corner of the kitchen.

  Aussie smiles. “In the utility room mop sink. She was kind of gross.”