“I’ll get him back no matter what,” Alex said, stepping over to the door.
“I know. I know. I just… looking around here, I’m not hopeful about his chances if this thing hit closer to Boston.”
Alex stepped away from the garage door and held her tight, nestling his head next to her ear and kissing her neck.
“He’ll be fine. I’ll start walking tonight if I have to. This is nothing. A minor bump in the road. In three days, we’ll be eating at a picnic table with my parents in Limerick,” he whispered.
“Not if you’re walking,” said Kate.
“Ten days. Let’s check the Tahoe and see what we’re dealing with.”
Alex opened the door to the garage and was greeted by a foot of mud, which reached the bottom of the truck’s doors. Silt and small debris covered the black Tahoe from top to bottom. The deluge of water, which at one point had risen above the Tahoe, had upended the garage. A red plastic gas can sat on the SUV’s roof, while the rest of the garage’s tools and sporting goods equipment was nowhere to be seen, presumably under the water. He pressed the key fob to unlock the SUV and was rewarded by the familiar chirping sound. He pressed it again and heard the door mechanisms activate.
“Good news, honey,” he said, hopeful for the first time since waking up this morning.
He jumped into the mud and splashed across the empty bay to reach the SUV, tripping on something submerged below the surface. Quickly regaining his balance, he yanked the door open, which released a small quantity of foamy water into the muck below.
“That’s not a good sign,” she said.
He pocketed the key fob and hopped into the truck, pressing the keyless ignition button. The batteries turned the engine over, and for a few glorious moments, he thought the Tahoe might start. He should have known better. The 2018 Tahoe hybrid was one of the most technologically advanced heavy SUVs on the market. The commercials likened it to a fly-by-wire aircraft, where every aspect of its performance was monitored and controlled by multiple onboard computers. It was one of the safest, most fuel-efficient vehicles of its kind thanks to cutting-edge technology. Now this revolutionary beast was simply in the way of the bicycles hanging on the far side of the garage. He looked at Kate and smiled.
“I always wanted to mountain bike all the way to Boston on the Eastern Trail.”
Kate stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to picture Charlie on a hundred-mile bike ride.” She chuckled.
Alex hopped into the water and walked to the garage door in the empty bay.
“I remember him doing that trek across Maine thing a few years ago,” said Alex, pulling on the red garage door manual release toggle above his head.
“Uh—I’m pretty sure he rode an ambulance most of the way back,” said Kate.
Alex pulled the door upward, releasing a flood of sludge down the driveway. He lifted the door all the way and was startled to see Ed standing a few feet away, holding two coffee mugs.
“This is what I get for bringing over fresh coffee?” he said, staring down at his dirtied shoes.
“Is that really coffee?” said Kate, her caffeine instincts savagely activated.
“French roast. Had just enough to make two cups,” he said, extending the mugs.
Alex and Kate accepted the mugs and carefully sipped the steaming hot liquid. Alex felt the caffeine immediately, which provided a needed boost to counteract his mental fatigue.
“You’re a life saver, Ed,” he said, shaking his hand and guiding him into the garage. “Come on in. I’d offer you a seat, but—”
“Our house got it the same. You should have seen it, man. Charlie was over when it hit. One minute I was trying to convince him that the Chinese hadn’t invaded, the next we were running for the staircase. The water flattened the fence behind us and slammed into the house a few seconds later. Filled the first floor to the ceiling within minutes—no shit. It was unbelievable.”
“We got lucky here. I’ve seen roofing tile and other debris that must have come from Higgins Beach,” said Alex.
“They found a sign for the Higgins Beach Lodge up at the top of the street. That used to be up on the third floor of the hotel. The beach has to be gone,” said Ed.
“How’s Samantha holding up?” said Kate, taking her lips away from the coffee for the first time.
“All right, given the Boston situation,” he said.
“I’m going to supervise the water hoarding and let the two of you plan the next move. Ed—you’re a lifesaver,” she said, holding up the mug of coffee. “I’d kiss you, but Alex might be mad that I stole his kiss.”
“Nice. Get a little caffeine in her and she’s ready for improv,” replied Alex.
After Kate disappeared into the house, Alex addressed the primary concern of both families.
“We have to get the kids, and it’s not going to be an easy trip. The families will go to my parents’ farm in Limerick, and we’ll head to Boston,” said Alex.
“Sam’s not taking this well at all. I didn’t want to say that in front of Kate, but she’s on the verge of a breakdown. We have no idea what’s happening out there. Nobody does,” said Ed.
“Chloe will be fine. She knows what to do in case of an emergency like this. Ryan and Chloe will link up at one of their places and wait for us. Five days is the plan,” said Alex.
“What if they don’t wait? This is something different altogether. The city will start falling apart by tonight,” said Ed.
“That’s why we aren’t going to waste any time getting down there. They’ll be there when we arrive,” said Alex.
“That’s what I told Sam. She wanted me to leave earlier this morning. Try to get both of them, but—man, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. There was no way I could have pulled that off. Sorry, that sounded terrible. I’m just glad you guys made it back. I wasn’t hopeful, sailboat and all. You look like shit by the way. Almost as bad as John McClane at the end of a Die Hard movie.”
“It wasn’t good. I think we got lucky, to be honest,” Alex said, suddenly aware of the pain shooting down his right arm.
He switched the coffee mug from his right to left hand and tried to extend his arm into the air, barely able to get the upper arm a few degrees over the plane of his shoulder.
“I thought you got that fixed?” asked Ed.
“That was the other side,” he said, referring to the multiple surgeries required to restore full mobility to the shoulder destroyed by a marauder’s shotgun blast during the chaos of the Jakarta Pandemic.
“This is part of my new suite of injuries. I jammed my arm between the spokes on the steering wheel so—”
“On purpose?”
“It was the only way to keep the wheel from spinning out of control. We almost lost the boat,” Alex said.
He raised the sleeve on his T-shirt and saw that a baseball-sized area on his upper tricep had turned a sickening black-purple color that looked more urgent than simple bruising.
“You need to have someone look at that. I’m surprised you can use the arm at all,” said Ed.
“It’s fine. The more I use it the better.”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine until you wake up tomorrow and can’t move it at all. You need to at least put some ice on that and take some ibuprofen. Check your freezer. You should still have some ice.”
“All right. Give me a few—”
His sentence was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps. Charlie Thornton appeared, running full throttle up the driveway, waving a satellite phone in front of his face. Alex glanced at his rifle.
“The safety’s on, you fucking nervous nellies,” Charlie said peevishly.
“That wasn’t an hour. More like five minutes, Charlie,” said Alex.