I’ve finally stopped shivering, so I push the blankets off of my face. Some part of me is holding on to the hope that the last few hours have been a bad dream, but I’m sorely disappointed. Other than the odd bit of debris, it’s clear to the horizon. Everything is gone. The clouds above us are dense, twisting and curving with the air currents. I don’t remember seeing them this way before.
I tethered the boat to the weather vane on the barn. That’s what, twenty five, thirty feet off the ground? I’m not even sure. I guess we got out just in time though, only the peak of the house is above water now.
Not a lot has been said since we loaded everything in to the boat. Tess is at the back, curled up on an old tarp between a couple small wood crates. She’s got her favourite blanket draped over her shoulders and her arms wrapped around the journal. Zoe is right at the front, staring out over the water. She only moves to check her phone. There’s no service, probably hasn’t been since last night. I’m bundled up in the middle, my clothes are all hanging along the side of the boat.
Tess sits up and shuffles over beside me. She leans her head against my arm, “Dad? What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We wait I guess.”
“Is someone going to come for us?”
“I hope so baby. I hope so.”
Wonder what’s going on? Start here -> The Flood – Prologue