And then, it hit him.
The grim expression on James’ face said it all.
“Shit! We’re going to lose the house, aren’t we? Jimmy—?”
“We’re gonna lose everything. Everything we can’t carry on our backs.”
There were only three people in the world who had ever called James Liddle “Jimmy.”
The first had been his mother, right up until the day he came out to her. From that moment on, to express her disappointment, he was “James.” The second had been Nate Lem, his arrogant, overweight fraternity brother—he’d called him “Liddle Jimmy” once too often and gotten a bloody nose for it. After that, he didn’t call James anything at all, he left the room whenever James entered.
The third was Hu Son. When he said “Jimmy” it was either affectionate—or important.
James said, “They don’t know how big it’s going to be, but we’ve only got three hours to get out of here.” He took a breath, his mind racing. “Let’s not panic. Let’s take a moment and think. It’s all about the prep. We gotta get all our cash, all our IDs, all our cards. Um, I have a go-bag, you’ll have to pack one. We’ll need bottled water and protein bars and—and whatever else is important. Tablets, laptops. All our legal paperwork, especially the insurance stuff—”
Hu Son stood frozen for a moment, his heart racing. “You’re serious—oh my god, you are. Oh, god, Jimmy—”
James grabbed him, held him close. “It’s okay, it’s okay—we’re going to be okay. Let’s just take it one step at a time. First step, think—what’s important? What are we going to need? What can we leave behind? What do we absolutely need—?”
Hu said, “Um—I don’t know. Um—” He looked around the kitchen, mentally sorting through everything, his favorite mug, the pictures on the wall, the beautifully sculpted merman figurine they’d bought on a trip to New Orleans. None of that really mattered. He realized he was naked. He headed toward the room they had christened as “the badroom”—the place where it was good to be bad.
“Um, clothes. I’ll grab clothes—”
“Not the big suitcase,” James called after him. The one they had packed last night for Hawaii. “Only what can fit in the carry-on. Jeans, hoodies, T-shirts, underwear, socks—”
Hu was already pulling things out of drawers. “Toothbrushes, deodorant, first-aid kit—”
“Right, good.” James realized he was still holding a mug of hot tea. He took one last swallow, poured the rest into the sink, and opened the dishwasher to put the mug on the rack. It didn’t matter now, did it? But he put the mug on the rack anyway.
“Okay, Jimmy-boy,” he said, talking aloud to himself. “What else? The camera, for sure. Eight thousand dollars for an underwater camera rig—I’m not leaving that behind. And the memory cards and batteries. Oh—” He turned to the shelf, grabbed a nearly full box of Ziploc plastic bags and followed Hu into the badroom. “Here. Triple bag everything that isn’t waterproof.”
“You think—?”
“I think we’re going to plan for the worst, hope for the best, and prepare for anything. We’ll stuff it into dry bags at the office.” While Hu pulled on shorts and shirt, James continued sorting through drawers, throwing stuff onto the bed. “Fuck—”
“What?”
“The motorcycle is in the shop—”
“No prob. We’ll take the van—”
James had gone to the nightstand. He grabbed a large folding knife from the bottom drawer, and the travel-safe, then the travel bag from the closet shelf. He shook his head. “Bad idea.”
“Huh?” Hu stopped, shirt halfway down over his head. His voice came muffled.
“Squeak, you didn’t grow up in this city.”
“Yes, I did—”
“Not as a driver. We are not gonna be traffic today—”
Hu finished pulling his shirt down. “Then, how—?”
“My SCUBA gear is at the office. I can’t leave that behind—” James tossed the travel-safe into the carry-on. He shoved the knife into the pocket of his jeans. “I don’t know how bad it’s going to be, but I’m thinking there’s gonna be a big need for divers after this thing hits. I don’t know, but I’ll need to be prepared. We can bike to the office, grab whatever gear, and from there, we can head inland. Are you ready—?”
“Half a minute—” Hu stopped, looked around. “Last minute check—”
“I don’t want to scare you, but we need to get moving.”
Hu debated with himself, finally lost the argument, grabbed his running shoes and shoved them into the carry-on. “I paid too much for these shoes. They’re coming.” He stopped, looked uncertainly to James. “You think it’s gonna be that bad—”
James looked grim. “You know all those safety courses I had to take, the fire and rescue courses, the Red Cross courses, lifeguard, all the paramedic stuff?”
“Yeah. You did that for the licenses, so you’d be more valuable to the studios—”
“It was part of the job. Stunt safety. Water safety. Everything.” He gave the badroom one last check of his own, still talking. “We had to learn about disasters, all kinds, and prepping for survival too. That’s why I keep a go-bag under the bed, and why I’m always nagging you to keep one too.” He stopped, he took a breath. “I got to see the pictures from the Christmas Tsunami and Fukushima as well, the ones they didn’t show on TV. I never told you—but it was… ugly. So we are walking out of here right now and we are heading for the highest ground we can get to the fastest way we can. Is that it? You got everything?” James moved to close the carry-on—
Hu stopped him long enough to toss in two more items, a fist-sized bronze Buddha that he grabbed from the top of the dresser, a wooden cross with a naked Jesus pulled from the wall—and one more, a small resin replica of Mickey Mouse in red robe and blue sorcerer’s hat. “Gotta take the household gods, Bubble. Bad luck to leave ’em.”
The television was no longer replaying the president. Now, the Mayor of Los Angeles, backed up by a phalanx of city councilmen and police, and confronted by a forest of microphones, stood behind a podium, trying to look calm as he laid out the first attempts at emergency evacuation plans. His voice was shaking.
James and Hu stopped long enough to listen, long enough to realize that whatever the mayor was saying, none of it was going to help them. “Wait,” asked James, “Have you eaten? Grab those boxes of protein bars. Eat two of them now. And the water bottles, drink one now. Don’t scarf, don’t guzzle, bring it along. Come on, let’s go.”
They almost made it to the door, James with the knapsack holding his expensive new underwater camera, and his go-bag in his left hand—Hu with a knapsack holding water and travel-rations, his carry-on in his right hand.
Hu stopped abruptly. “No! Wait!”
“Now what?”
Hu dropped the carry-on, ran back to the badroom, came out a moment later, carrying a small black box. “I almost forgot the rings! The wedding rings!” He held the jewelry box high for James to see, then shoved it into his pocket. “Hell or high water, we’re getting married.”
“Probably high water, but yeah. Hell or high water.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Now let’s go—”
James pulled the plastic tarp off the bikes and unlocked them. Despite the high wooden fence around the tiny yard, he still didn’t trust the neighborhood’s population of permanent transients.
“I’m gonna miss this place,” Hu said.
James didn’t answer. He just shook his head and led them out to the bike path. They took a moment to pull on their helmets and double-check the bungee cords around their bags, holding them firmly to the racks on the back of the bikes.