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“Are you sure?” A new, different panic threatens me.
Thirty-five…thirty-six…
“This place is going to fill up with water,” Cree says. “I think getting out and heading to higher ground is our best bet, even if we are outside.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard, trying to keep panic from seeping into my voice. The very thought of water filling the building leaves my body numb and my mind blank.
Ten feet before we get to the door, we step in a large puddle of water. I jump back immediately, stifling a gasp by covering my mouth with my hand.
“Not a good sign,” Cree mutters.
Lightning flashes, and through the window we can see what used to be a small duck pond that now looks like a lake. Though the pond has overflowed before, I’ve never seen anything like this. The water is so high, I wonder if it has reached the road on the other side of the valley.
Sixty… Sixty-one…
“Cree?” My voice quakes with fear. There is no way I can hide this from him much longer. It might be better to give him a little bit of information so he won’t keep pushing for a waterlogged exit.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not a good swimmer.” I can’t swim—at all. I used to be able to, but now I can only tread water for about two minutes before I get myself too freaked out to do anything but sink.
“I don’t think that’s going to be the biggest problem,” he says. “The water is up to the door, and the door opens out. There is no way we’re going to be able to push it open with that much water pressing against it. We obviously can’t go back to the front with live power lines thrashing all over the floor. Maybe we should try one of the windows.”
“I…I don’t know.” I can’t imagine convincing myself to jump out a window into water, but I have no idea how to tell him this. I will sound like a complete moron. I remember the downed power line and try that approach instead. “Most of the windows are stained glass, and they don’t open. I’m not sure if getting into the water out there is safe. The power line isn’t that far away, and they always tell you not to go into water near downed power lines.”
“We’re standing in that water now.”
“But you never know once you get out there.” I keep counting in my head, getting close to one hundred now. “The whole pond is flooded. More lines could be down, and if any of them are touching the water, that could be fatal. We might not be able to tell what’s electrified and what isn’t.”
“So, we’re stuck here?”
“I think we are.” My voice quivers again, and I have to blink back tears.
“Higher ground?” he asks.
I’ve lost count. I can’t remember if I am at one-twenty-five or one-thirty-five. My knees begin to shake, and my fingers start to clench and unclench without my permission. I debate starting the count over when Cree asks again.
“Is there a way to get up higher?”
I have to push the numbers aside and think a minute, trying to remember the layout of the library I should know like the back of my hand, but I suddenly don’t. I have to focus just to remember the few side rooms turned into offices on the main floor, but their doors are old and certainly won’t hold back water. Where else could we go?
“There’s a staircase in the back that leads up to the second level,” I tell him. “It should be dry there.”
We head up the stairs to what used to be the choir loft of the chapel. In the dark corners, stacks of books line the walls, yet to be sorted or labeled, and a railing runs along one side of the area, overlooking the main room below. A large, stained-glass window dominates the wall to the right of the railing. I can barely see the blue, green, and purple pieces that make up a Garden of Eden scene, complete with a snake and an apple.
I place my hands on the rail and look down. I can hear water flowing into the building, but it’s too dark to see clearly. Every once in a while, another spark lights up.
“All those books,” I whisper. I grip the rail, tightening every muscle in my body to keep tears from falling. I start counting again.
“They’re going to get wet,” Cree says.
“Most of them are irreplaceable.” Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…
“I hope those are on higher shelves.”
They aren’t. I continue counting to keep from thinking about it. I’ve always felt an affinity for dusty old books and the secrets inside of them, and the thought of so many of them being destroyed is heartbreaking.
“I suppose the water will keep the sparks from setting a fire,” Cree says. “That’s a bonus.”
