Ahead of the Storm
Day 5
What on earth am I doing here? Granted, I grew up in the midst of as
much flat blue as this, but it is not the view that’s the
problem. It’s the clouds gathering in our wake. It’s the
fact that I saw lightning strikes to the east last night. It’s
the fact that the last safe place we had is the tallest thing
around. We don’t really speak to one another much. We burn and
peel and those of us with salt sores... well, we ooze. The raft seems
to be sturdy, which is a blessing. We’ll see how long it
lasts. Joanna is good with knots, she says. She better be; knots are
all we have left.
Day 6
I didn’t really want to leave, you know. I didn’t want to
leave them. But I didn’t want to die there, on a collection of
wood and plastic tethered to what was once – before the water
rose – the tallest building in the city (or so my grandfather
told me). We had to go. What if there are others like us out there?
What if there is dry land left? What if there was something we could
do?
Day 9
I think we can conclude that the people we left behind haven’t
made it. We barely have. The storm is pushing us along before it, and
there’s just no way they can have outlasted it. I’ve seen
lightning strike an exposed metal strut before, and it’s not a
pretty sight. I have to conclude that the last of my family are
dead. At least it will have gone quicker for my sister than it might
have. She had salt foot.
You can find the complete version of Ahead of the Storm in issue 67 of TBD.