17. Flint
Flint
“What are you thinking?” Ridge asks as I stare at the maps on the hood of my truck. There are two here. The first is the official printed one of the area, and the other is a crude, hand drawn map that I sketched out a few days ago.
I tap one section. “Ronnie and I will investigate this area. I'm thinking we'll either put the barracks on that spot, or it’ll go over here where I want you and Kane looking.”
Ridge taps his spot. “It’s further up, closer to the dam. It’ll get better reception and the natural water access will be fuckin’ easy, but it’s going to be a hell of a nightmare getting trucks up there to build the infrastructure.”
“Well, that’s Bronco’s decision,” I remind him. “We’re just bringing him the recommendations.”
Kane pats his backpack. “Got it. We'll talk with you on the radio. Let you know what we find as we find it.”
I hesitate, and Ridge laughs.
He looks at Kane. “He's going to be bringing Ronnie along. He doesn’t want minute-by-minute updates. A recap later will do it.”
I focus on Ridge. “One day when that motherfucker has a pretty girl of his own, he’ll understand.”
Kane flips me the bird.
I fold my paper maps, check that my radio has fresh batteries, and toss the bag in the truck. A quick shoulder clap to both of them passes as goodbye. We’ve seen too much shit together to actually say the word.
When I get to the office, the first thing I do is press a kiss to Ronnie’s forehead. “Are you ready for our not-team-building-definitely-not-sleeping-with-the-boss meeting?”
She laughs. “I can’t wait. I do have to get back in time to take the kids for a vision appointment. I don't think they're having any problems, but I want to make sure to get them tested before they start school in the fall. I can't believe my babies are going into first grade.”
There's a hitch in her voice that has me squeezing her shoulder.
I've only known the kids for a couple of weeks, and I swear it does feel like they're growing bigger every single day.
“Don't you worry, Mama. They'll do just fine in school,” I tell her.
She waves a hand. “Sorry, I think it's these damn hormones.”
“Never apologize for that,” I reassure her as I take her hand so we can get on the road.
It doesn’t take us long to drive to the valley.
I unload my equipment and start work, talking with Ronnie the entire time.
She asks questions about what I’m doing and how I’m doing it.
I explain everything as I go, happy that I brought her along.
Even boring chores don’t feel quite as mundane with her next to me.
She points to a grove of trees. Some have fallen over from storms in the past few weeks and tangled together. “It’s really pretty over there. I could see you making beautiful walking trails for the veterans.”
I note the grove of trees and take a photo of them. “I’ll add it to my recommendation when I tell Bronco about this place.”
Her stomach growls. She presses a hand to it. “I missed breakfast.”
I already know that. I was there. She managed to eat a couple of crackers before she went into work.
It was all she could keep down. She keeps telling me that nothing is wrong and that it's perfectly normal for her to do this during the first trimester. It still scares the shit out of me. There’s a little baby in her stomach, and I can’t peer inside of her like I could with an oven.
Maybe that’s what God should do next for women.
Give them little doors and even a beeper so I know when the baby is done.
“I’ll get the basket from my truck,” I tell her, slinging the gear over my shoulder right as I reach for my bag.
That’s the moment it all goes crazy. There’s a loud rumbling sound then the ground underneath my feet starts to shake.
My radio crackles to life.
Ridge’s voice is over the airwaves.
It's been years since I've heard that particular note in his voice, but I've never forgotten it. That's panic.
I press down and tell him, “I'm here.”
He’s yelling now. “Get out! Dam…giving way. You’re…path…go!”
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.
There’s no way to get any closer. No way to grab anything else. But for now, she’s safe. It’s the thought that lets me gulp down oxygen.
I quickly scan the horizon even as I’m registering it. That breaking and cracking sound. This branch won’t hold.
She looks at me, terror in her gaze. “Are we going to die?”
“Ridge is here. Kane is here. Wait to be rescued.”
“What?”
“Ridge is coming for you,” I repeat as it suddenly becomes clear to me. The only way my dad could save my mom was to hold onto her. The only way I can save Ronnie is to let go. This branch won’t hold both of us.
There are only seconds left if one of us is going to make it. I call her name, scream it to the heavens. “I love you. Keep my babies safe.”
Then I let go.
Raging water pulls me from her in less than a second. She’s screaming my name, crying and sobbing and alive. That’s what matters. She’s alive.
It’s my last thought as I collide with something solid, darkness rushing to overtake me.