Taken by Storm Read online

  Faux-Hawk’s chair hit the ground as well, and he pointed menacingly at Ryan. “And you’re going to make me?” Faux-Hawk’s voice was cold and soft. He was looking for a fight at this point, and Leila’s heart beat faster.

  “You guys, enough!” She tried to diffuse the tension with diplomacy. “We’re all a little tense about this crazy-ass situation. We need to take a breath, take a drink, and relax until help comes.”

  The guys eyed each other for another terse moment, then Ryan sat, and Faux-Hawk looked away.

  Leila drew a breath. “Besides, we’re sitting pretty, as things go. It could be worse.”

  The lights flickered and died.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You were saying?”

  Leila sighed.

  Ryan didn’t tell him to shut up, mostly because he couldn’t remember Faux-Hawk’s real name, and he knew the little douche would take offense to the nickname. The lights were out, the power gone too. The equipment—coolers behind the bar, the machines that ran the soft drinks at the bar and kept them cool—were all silent. If they’d thought it deathly quiet before, that was nothing compared to now. The storm had weakened, but rushing water was the only sound in the world.

  But it wasn’t quite three thirty, and thin light still shone through the windows. The rain had stopped, but the clouds were still swollen and steely, looming thick and low. Everything was still visible, but they’d definitely need artificial lights or candles in a couple hours—if they hadn’t been rescued by then.

  “Ronna, are there any flashlights, or candles kicking around here?” Leila beat him to the punch, which annoyed him. Not just because he was supposed to be the one in charge, but because ideas like these were things that would reinforce his authority, and yet Leila swept in every time and suggested them before he had the chance. It undermined him, and she didn’t even know that’s what she was doing.

  “Yes, I’ll go raid the junk drawer and see what we’ve got. Anyone have a lighter? It’ll be dark behind the bar.”

  “I do.” Red dug in her purse and came up with a light blue lighter. Ronna took it and was digging in the drawer a moment later.

  Ryan ate another French fry, but his appetite was gone. Shame, as the burgers really had been tasty. When would they be rescued? It had already been a couple hours since he’d texted Kyle. The station had to be slammed for it to have taken this long. Then again, they’d have to haul out special equipment for this, get moving on the aquatic rescue. And they weren’t equipped for a water emergency of this magnitude. Equipment and guys from stations out of town would have to be called, and get here. All of that took time.

  Ronna returned with three fat red candles and two flashlights. “Not the haul I’d hoped for, but it’ll do. I tested the flashlights, and they’ve got juice.”

  “They’re perfect, Ronna.” Ryan smiled at her. “Let’s save them for now, and see what happens. No point lighting the candles when we can still see just fine.”

  “I’d be cool with more light,” Faux-Hawk said.

  “I agree with Ryan.” Leila moved the candles and flashlight, and laid them on a plate away from Faux-Hawk. “We might be rescued at any minute anyway.”

  “If we’re going to be rescued any minute, why can’t we have more light now?”

  “Because it’s wasteful. And they’re my candles anyway,” Ronna’s tone brooked no argument. She returned Red’s lighter and went back to eating as if nothing had happened. Wallace continued eating too. The luxury of age. Not letting emotions get in the way of a good meal.

  “Did you find anything else useful in that drawer?”

  Ronna shook her head before answering Ryan. “Nope. I was shocked as shit to find the flashlights.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. There’s surprisingly little of use around here. Well, not that surprising. It’s pretty utilitarian around here—you saw the boiler room.”

  “Very true.”

  “I’m bored,” Faux-Hawk announced.

  “Pool table’s open,” Ronna said, raising an eyebrow at Ryan, who shook his head. Faux-Hawk was older than him but acting like a child on a long car trip.

  “I’d rather play darts.”

  “Go nuts. Left corner.”

  Faux-Hawk looked at the redhead. “Want to play?”

  “Sure. I need to get my mind off … everything.” She stood and followed him to the corner farthest from the windows. Ryan felt some of the tension leave his body. Faux-Hawk got on his last damn nerve. He could sit there bound and gagged, and Ryan still would be braced for him to be annoying. He tried to rub some of the tension from his neck. Is there a way to get us all out of here? No, we already exhausted the options, and the station knows we’re here. If we took off, they’d come here for nothing and we’d probably be no closer to rescue.

  But it was hard enough to keep everyone calm when they had light. How the hell was he going to hold the group together if they were still in the bar when it got dark?

  ***

  Peeing in the—mostly—dark sucked. Leila could see a little bit, but it was strange. A task she did numerous times every day became foreign, the automatic nature removed, rendering her hyperaware of every step, making the whole thing awkward. Plus, the door was propped open, letting in the only light, and Leila was self-conscious about sounds as well. So she moved as quickly as she could, not that she was eager to get back to the group.

  It was so tense, and mostly because of Faux-Hawk and the redhead. Mostly him though, as she seemed to just follow whoever was shouting the loudest. Faux-Hawk didn’t shut up, so it was no wonder he was her leader. Leila subtly took in the group on her way back to the table. Ronna and Wallace were paired off talking. It would surprise no one if they got together after all this was over. Ryan sat facing the window, and though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he’d be frowning and trying to figure out a way to keep everyone calm. The two troublemakers had split off to play darts, and they stood and moved to the table when Leila sat down.

  Red twisted her fingers around each other and took a deep breath. “We called nine-one-one.”

  “What? When?” Leila heard the words, but they didn’t quite compute.

  “You heard. It was before we ate. We were tired of sitting around waiting for something to happen. We took our lives into our own hands—”

  “—and they gave us a number!” Red nearly shrieked the last word.

  “You what?” Leila didn’t know whether she wanted to comfort Red or throttle her. “We already know help is on the way! The fire department already knows about our situation!”

  “Well, now nine-one-one knows too.” Faux-Hawk wrapped an arm around Red’s shoulders. Ryan grabbed his head like it was pounding—which it probably was.

  “Do you know what that means? It means the guys from the station are going to come, and that emergency services are also going to dispatch people to try to rescue us as well at some point, probably in boats. That’s two full teams of first responders sent here to try to rescue us!”

  “So?” Faux-Hawk sneered. “They should hurry up! We’ve been waiting hours in this place.”

  “We’re safe! Do you understand that we’re low priority for a reason?”

  “We shouldn’t be—there are six of us!”

  Ryan growled in frustration. “Do you get that right now, out there, there are injured people! There could be people trapped inside their houses, people stuck on the roofs of their cars surrounded by rushing water. Of course you hadn’t. You think of nothing and no one but yourself.”

  Leila felt shame at the disgust in Ryan’s eyes, and it wasn’t even directed at her.

  Faux-Hawk didn’t. “Fuck you, man.”

  “No, fuck you. Do you hear that?” They all paused to listen to the faint chopping sound. “Those are helicopters. Whether they’re pulling people from their goddamned roofs or evacuating injured people—maybe critically injured—to the hospital in the city, I don’t know. But there’s more than one chopper
out there, and that’s not a good sign.”

  Wallace cleared his throat. “I hear at least three.”

  Ryan continued. “Whether or not you know it, man, by calling nine-one-one and telling them we need rescue, you’ve taken resources away from people whose lives could be depending on it. And for what?”

  “To get the fuck out of here!”

  “Newsflash! We all want out of here! But you’ve done absolutely nothing to make that happen.”

  “And you have?”

  “Yeah, he did!” Leila was unable to keep silent. “He talked to the guys at the station.”

  Faux-Hawk continued talking to Ryan as if she hadn’t spoken. “What, and you’re the only one allowed to be a hero around here? You just hate it that someone else had the balls to actually do something and overthrow your little dictatorship.” He wiggled his fingers in Ryan’s face. To his credit, not only did Ryan not tear them off and make him eat them, he took a step back.

  “This isn’t about being a hero. There’s no glory here. It’s not a game, not about who wins. It’s about doing the smart thing.”

  Faux-Hawk smirked. “I did the right thing! I called nine-one-one!”

  “I am nine-one-one!” A vein appeared in Ryan’s neck.

  I need to calm this situation before his head explodes.

  Faux-Hawk spoke before she could draw a breath. “Well, nine-one-one isn’t coming anyway, bro. They gave us a number and told us to get to a dry, safe place if we weren’t already.”

  “And we’re safe!”

  Leila stepped between the two men; unfortunately, she’d have needed to stand on a chair to be an effective block. “Everyone needs to calm down. This arguing isn’t helping. Sit. Chill. We need to think things through. We’re surrounded by water for crying out loud. Not the best time or place to be making hasty decisions about leaving.”

  Ryan sat first, and Faux-Hawk followed a second later, likely because he didn’t want to be shown up. Leila sat again and sipped her drink, mouth dry. “Besides. Help is on the way.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sharp knocks reverberated throughout the room.

  “They’re here!” Red exclaimed. Everyone turned toward the sounds of fists slamming against the glass door, but it wasn’t firemen. A ruddy-faced middle-aged man in fisherman waders cupped his hands to the glass and peered inside.

  “Let me in!”

  Ryan met Wallace’s eyes; the old vet’s expression was wary, but he nodded and stood with Ryan and moved to the door with him.

  “We’ll have to open it slowly so we don’t disturb the makeshift waterproofing.”

  Ryan nodded, turned the lock when they reached the door, and spoke to the stranger through the glass. “So, we’re going to—”

  The brown-eyed stranger wrenched the door open and trudged inside, kicking the bags aside and rendering Ryan’s words moot. More water streamed in, re-flooding the main room. Wallace’s eyes twinkled at Ronna’s audible sigh. Oblivious, the stranger tracked mud farther inside, heading to the table where everyone else sat while Ryan re-secured the door.

  “I didn’t think anyone was still downtown! This is crazy, hey?” The man’s voice was deep and hoarse.

  “Some of us wanted to leave a while ago.” Faux-Hawk glared reproachfully at Ryan. “But we weren’t allowed to go.”

  “Why not?”

  Tension and annoyance at Faux-Hawk had Ryan wearing his shoulders as earmuffs. He forced himself to relax, and focused on the newcomer. “Help is on the way; we’re safe and dry where we are. It makes no sense to leave when we’re going to be rescued at any time. What’s your name?”

  The stranger held out a hand. “Craig Campbell.”

  Ryan took it. “Ryan Benton.”

  “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Ryan, but help isn’t coming. I don’t know where you got your information from, but you’re better off getting the hell out of dodge.”

  “I fucking knew it!” Faux-Hawk stepped closer. “Mister Nine-One-One here told us to stay put.”

  Craig scrubbed a hand down his face, scratched at his five-o-clock shadow. “Mister Nine-One-One?”

  “Ryan’s a firefighter.” Ronna walked by with the mop and bucket, heading toward the puddle with a pointed look Craig missed because he was looking at Ryan.

  “That true?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know help is coming because … ”

  “Because I talked to the station.”

  “And they said help was coming?”

  “Yes.”

  Craig frowned. “When was that?”

  “A while ago, why?”

  “It can’t have been recently—cell reception’s out.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Leila stood up and gestured at Faux-Hawk and Red. “They just called nine-one-one a little while ago.”

  “It had to have been more than a little while ago. I’ve been wandering around trying to get a signal for about an hour, and there’s nothing.”

  “That can’t be right,” Ryan argued, reaching for his phone as everyone else reached for theirs. No bars. No signal meant they were completely cut off from the rest of the town. As far as he knew, Kyle and the station were aware he was with a group at Glitters, but anything could have happened. If Kyle hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone—if something happened to Kyle, out sandbagging when the wave hit … but he couldn’t think like that. Likely, the worst-case scenario was that their rescue would be a bit delayed.

  “I can’t even get a signal,” Red’s voice shook. “What if no one’s coming?”

  “They’re coming for us,” Leila patted her shoulder and shot Ryan a look.

  Wallace popped a fresh toothpick in his mouth, snapping the old one in half and discarding it on the edge of his plate. “Even if the plan has changed time-wise, they know we’re here. Not only that, but nine-one-one knows we’re here too. Help is on the way, the key is not to panic.” Leila looked like she wanted to kiss him for that statement. Ryan felt the same.

  “You sticking around for a while, or just tracking mud around my clean floor?” Ronna rolled the mop bucket past the table, and sent a vicious side-eye at Craig, who looked down at his feet and started with comical surprise.

  “I’m sorry! I hadn’t realized.”

  “Where’d all the mud come from?” Red asked, eyes wide.

  Ryan bit his cheek so as not to laugh at Leila’s scornful expression, and answered before she said something that provoked Faux-Hawk into action—or worse; speech. “The water flowing down the street isn’t just clean river water. It’s come barreling down, tens, maybe hundreds of miles from upstream, crashing through the streambeds, but also churning up a lot of land as it overflows its banks. You saw the trees flowing by?” She nodded and he continued. “The water’s uprooted them and washed away riverbanks and roads and all kinds of things on the way here. It’s soupy and silty, and probably contaminated at this point if the sewers are backing up into it.”

  Wallace picked up when Ryan paused. “Definitely contaminated. See, what you’ve got to keep in mind is that it isn’t the water itself that’s the most dangerous. It’s the underwater debris. That’s at least four feet of water out there. Whole logs, boulders, nearly anything could be tearing along underneath the surface, and if you’re out traipsing around in that, you could get slammed with who knows what, and seriously hurt.”

  “Not just the debris,” Leila said. “It only takes a few inches of running water to produce enough force to carry you away. You might think it’s only a couple feet deep, but the current in a foot alone is enough to sweep you off your feet.”

  Red’s eyes widened. “How do you guys know so much about all this?”

  “Welcome to Silver Springs,” Wallace said.

  “You’re not from here,” Faux-Hawk said, as though making a momentous discovery.

  She shook her head. “I’m just in town visiting my great aunt Broca.”

  “Ah hell.” Ronna slumped into her chair. “Broca Jack
lon?”

  Red nodded. “Do you know her?”

  “She lives across the street from me. We have tea every Monday afternoon.”

  Red’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I wish I’d gone straight there. I don’t even know if she’s okay. We were going to paint, and have a visit.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Leila took her hand.

  “But what if she’s not? We should go over there, make sure she’s okay. What if she’s trapped?”

  Faux-Hawk stepped closer, wrapped his arm around Red’s shoulders, and slung Ryan a look that screamed trouble.

  ***

  The new guy was trouble. Oh, he was friendly enough, but Leila saw the way Faux-Hawk puffed up with self-righteous indignation when he’d arrived. As if one guy finding his way there safely meant that the rest could slog their way to safety, and Ryan had been keeping them against their wills. Craig wasn’t a bad guy, but he was shaking up the group dynamic, and they were already in a tense situation.

  Still, he’d been out there. That had to have been scary.

  “Where’d you come from, Craig? Have you been walking for a while?”

  He pulled up a chair and sat facing Leila. “Came up Veteran’s Way, crossed by Phillip Street Park, and up Third to here.”

  “You were home when the water hit?”

  He hauled in a deep breath. “Fortunately, yeah. I can’t imagine what would have happened if I’d been out for a walk when that wave hit.”

  Ronna set a beer in front of Craig. “Hopefully we haven’t lost anyone.”

  “It will be a goddamn miracle if everyone makes it through,” Wallace’s eyes blazed with anger. “There was no warning at all!”

  “The siren was busted.” Ryan scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “Someone ought to be fired for that! The hospital will have flooded.”

  “Anyone in a basement suite near downtown. They’d … My God.” Leila gulped at her drink in an attempt to counter the icy queasiness that invaded her stomach. Thoughts of young mothers caught by surprise as the water rushed in, and they searched for their children and tried to get out. Images of elderly women alone in the dark, unable to find the strength against the flow of water flooding their places as they struggled to swim to safety—and didn’t make it. A young man taking his dog for a walk, swept away in the wave, trying to cling to his beloved pet, but the water ripping them apart.