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Chapter One
Superheroes
Theairmattressbumped against the cement wall of the basement. It swayed all night, lulling the boys to sleep despite the raging winds outside. The thud… thud… thud… a constant for hours as the water underneath us made small waves that poured through the windows and doors. This flood would be worse than the last.
I prayed this was the halfway mark. My eyelids couldn’t hold themselves open much longer. I had saved energy drinks and precious coffee that I rummaged from abandoned houses after the first storm. I had consumed every drop, and only adrenaline fueled me tonight. Unfortunately, this horror was my new normal, and my body no longer produced the surge of energy needed to stay up all night for the tenth time this month.
Beau and Lewis were asleep, nestled underneath my arms. Their slow breathing harmonized with the steady thud against the wall. Blonde hair covered their forehead and crept over their eyes. Things like haircuts had been the last thing on my mind lately. Anything superficial or fun that once filled up our weekends left us long ago, as if the floods washed it away.
I couldn’t tell them apart until two summers ago. Beau was chasing Lewis through the farm, and Lewis kept looking backward to see his brother at his heels. Lewis turned just in time to run face first into a piece of scrap metal poking out from a wheelbarrow. He sliced his head open, staining his almost white hair magenta with blood. I would give anything to go back to that day, not to undo the damage, but to remember what it felt like to play. I chased the boys in those fields and encouraged their races.
Lewis smiled through the blood, but my sister blamed me until her dying day for not paying enough attention. My negligence had scarred her perfect human. She already hated me for calling the twins BeLew after reading The Jungle Book, so it was no surprise when she added another reason to the pile. I loved the nickname, and no matter how much she seethed, it stuck. I made a quip about Lewis getting a scar and not Beau, whose name meant handsome. She did not find it funny.
I was the fun aunt, the playful sister who dropped the boys over the fence with the chickens so they could chase the birds for hours. The one who lifted them onto my horse, riding bareback around our land faster than my sister ever knew, faster than she would ever allow.
“Rowan, what are you doing?” she would yell from acres away while we played something she presumed was too dangerous. We would come in laughing and she would chastise me. “You won’t ever understand how hard motherhood is. You can’t say no.”
She would say it as an insult and as a threat. I would never have children. I could never understand her struggle. She made hard choices and sacrifices. Her voice rang through my ears. Did I understand her this night?
Was it fear of motherhood or fear of survival? They may have been the same. The most important rule was to keep the kids alive. I struggled with the thought and ran my hands through the boys’ blonde strands, pushing their hair back. Beautiful boys that slept in a horrible place.
My sister died to save her children. There could have been a better way if there had been more time, but the blessing of time was long gone. Make your decision and move on, was the mantra after the world changed.
Did I make the right decision?
The thought circled my mind, and I drifted off to the tune of our thudding mattress. I didn’t know how long I was asleep, but I awoke to Lewis prodding my arm with his little hand. Beau lay fast asleep on my chest. The water had risen so high I could sit up and touch the ceiling.
The movement had stopped.
The sound of the wind had stopped.
Silence.
“Lewis, can you stand in the water?” I asked, holding the wall so his movement wouldn’t topple the air mattress. “Go ahead, I’m right here.” My voice scratched from thirst. The familiar rhyme made me smile, “water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink.”
Lewis was the braver of the two. He was the bravest six-year-old I had ever come across, not that I had a great deal of experience with children. That much was evident, considering I had asked him to step into murky water unaccompanied. But I needed to determine how much of a pain in the ass it would be to get out of this house.
He wiggled his small body off the mattress while I gave him a reassuring nod. When he slipped off the side, I knew the water was deeper than I had hoped. He gave a slight smile, keeping his head afloat. “I can’t touch,” he gurgled and brought his hands to the side of the mattress.
I nudged Beau, waking him. Moments later, he left the mattress, clinging to my hip, fearful of the dark liquid that filled the room. I used my free hand to move floating cardboard and plastic hangers that bobbed on the top of our basement which was now a lake, making my way to the exit. The door was already leaning in at the frame from the beating mother nature had given, and it opened easily.
We trudged out of the water to higher ground. When I turned back, the devastation of our farm stole the breath from my body. Not a single tree had survived the destruction. Many lay down flat while others tangled with the wreckage of homes and power lines.
Our house no longer had a second floor. The barn was gone. There was no rubble, no evidence that it had ever held anything in its walls. It was simply missing, swept up in the mouth of the third storm.
There had been tornadoes a few years ago that had ripped off every roof in the county. Waiting on insurance and repairmen frustrated me, so I’d spent hot days laying tarps atop the holes and balancing on the edges of the second story. All that work, and now there was nothing.
What a waste of effort.
“BeLew, you two have to stay here,” I ordered. My voice came out harsher than I wanted. I knelt next to them as they sat in the mud with deflated faces. “You were very brave last night. You can’t get the supplies down because the water is too deep. When you see me toss the bags on dry land, you can help by bringing them up here. Don’t drag them, carry them. Understand?”
They nodded in unison with identical, anxious green eyes. I wished I had packed towels as I watched the water drip from their hair as they shivered. “The first bag I’ll bring will have clean clothes. Put them on and throw your wet ones to the side.” They nodded again.
We needed to walk toward Dean’s house as soon as possible. I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky. I wouldn’t walk at night. I didn’t want to drive at night, but I might not have a choice. Another storm drew near already. They were back to back, lined up in rows of destruction. Time wasn’t on our side.
I left the boys doing the math in my head. There were four bags that I had to untie and remove from the ceiling of the basement, then carry back to BeLew. I would have to do them one by one, and that would take about an hour. Then there was the three-mile walk to Dean’s property. With the boys, I had to account for an hour or two. I would encourage them to jog while I dragged the buggy to speed up the process.
The drive was four hours at best, six at most if I had to travel off-road. It would be close to nightfall and the ship left tomorrow before daylight. Dean had made it clear he would ensure we were on board, but I hated to put him in a jeopardizing position. It also made me uneasy knowing I owed Dean. He never said what he wanted for payment, but he would demand something. Dean Riggs always had an ulterior motive.
