Page 38 of Flint

I look around, surveying the scene as quickly as I can. There’s no higher ground here. We’re at the mercy of the incoming water.

I look to Ronnie who’s staring at me with wide eyes, frozen in fear.

“Get to the truck!” I shout because that rumbling is growing louder by the second.

We both start running. Is this the terror my parents faced? Did they know the water was coming for them?

We’re inside the truck, but it’s already too late. Water is filling the vehicle, pouring in fast. No matter how many times I turn the ignition, nothing happens.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Ronnie whimpers. This strong, brave woman who has survived the loss of both her parents and faced her husband running away from her is terrified.

And that’s the moment the eerie calm comes over me.

Maybe it’s the spirit of my dad.

Maybe it’s a lifetime of combat training.

But my head goes quiet.

I call Ronnie’s name.

She looks at me. “The mother of my children is not dying today.”

“You can’t know that!”

I’m already rolling down my window because thank fuck for old trucks with manual windows. “Get over here. Climb over me and get your ass on that roof! Now!”

She scrambles from her seat, crawling across my body and hefting herself onto the roof. I’m next, careful because the truck is starting to rock in the flooding water. It’s got to be at least eight feet deep and still rising. We’re the only thing I can see, a little metal island in a sea of fast, raging water.

“We’re supposed to be at the eye doctor!” Ronnie wails.

“Can you swim?” I shout the words.

“Not well! Do we have to?”

“You’re about to!” I warn her as the wave rolls forward. It’s too much and knocks the truck off balance, but I was already prepared.

I wrap an arm around Ronnie’s waist as we tumble into the ice-cold water. For a second I can’t breathe. My lungs burn. My muscles burn.

But Ronnie is still in my arms.

The water is fast now, ripping at our clothes.

It’s cold and murky, impossible to see through.

But my sole focus is keeping Ronnie’s head above water. I’m yelling at her, screaming that she has to stay with me.

“There!” She screams and even though she’s next to my ear, I can barely hear her.

I blink and blink then I see it.

The grove of trees. They’re still standing, still twined around each other.

“I’m going to get us close,” I tell her and summon my strength. Years of training and adrenaline combine as I fight water that feels thicker than concrete.

It’s three tries.

Three tries then she’s grasping a fallen branch and so am I.