A low, distant roar—not thunder. Deeper. Guttural. Unnatural.
He froze.
His head whipped toward the hills just as a plume of mist and tree branches exploded from the distant tree line. A chill swept down his spine.
The dam.
“Granny D—” He grabbed her by the waist, her eyes wide now. “We need to go. Now.”
Without waiting, he lifted her and the cat into the boat and scrambled in after her.
“Whew!” she huffed. “I ain’t had a man touch my waist in twenty years.”
He might’ve laughed if his adrenaline wasn’t spiking. The first surge of water hit just then—a wall of runoff crashing through the creek bed and slamming into the yard.
“Hold on to Rembrandt—and the boat,” he said, shovingOld Rustyfree just as the next wave struck. “It’s going to get rough.”
They weren’t in the direct path of the breach—thank God—but they still got the brunt of the runoff. The water slapped the hull, spinning them halfway around before Finn dug an oar into the current and fought to stabilize them.
Old Rusty, despite its name and peeling paint, was a sturdy, flat-bottomed thing. Built for this kind of shallow water. But even it groaned under the strain.
“Ever been on the back of a bull, handsome?”
He glanced at her. Laughed despite himself. “Granny, you’re a legend.”
The current surged again, pulling them hard toward the bend in the creek. Debris whipped past—broken limbs, a section of someone’s fence, and what once might have been a lawn gnome. Finn rowed hard, teeth gritted, shoulders screaming.
Granny D let out a low whistle. “You row like a man who’s done this before.”
“Rowing team at school,” Finn muttered.
“Did they teach you how to dodge tree trunks too?”
A log barreled past. He grunted, pivoting them with a sharp sweep of the oar.
They reached the wider stretch of the creek—a natural runoff. The turbulence ebbed slightly, and Finn took the moment to breathe and reassess.
They weren’t out of it yet.
The house behind them was half submerged now. Water gushed through the windows like the whole thing had sprung a leak. The Buick under the carport was gone, vanished beneath the surface.
They passed a pickup truck caught sideways against a tree, half submerged. Finn used it to push off, guiding them onto a safer path, he hoped.
But what was happening on Main Street? How had the dam break impacted them?
He had to get back to Lucy and Daphne, but how? There was no going back to the truck now.
The only option was forward—following the current and praying it led to higher ground.
Chapter 22
Daphne had never in her life known a feeling of isolation like this.
No phone. No internet.
In a world where connectivity seemed just a touch away, suddenly the silence had grown expansive. Especially now, when she had no way to reach Finn or Jack.
And the water kept rising.
