More Flash Fiction

The Flood 2013 (#save)

Water rushed in as Will opened his car door. He pushed his way out and up to the dry front door. None of those will start again, he thought before he stepped inside. He gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the three cars half-submerged under water on driveway. 

Will found his father pacing back and forth in the living room his face contorted with distress. But it was the view out the large sliding glass doors that grabbed Will's attention. The small babbling brook at the back of the property had risen to join the small pond Will had spent his childhood swimming in, throwing stones into and ice skating on every winter. The brook and the pond were now a massive river fifty yards across and moving, moving fast, it's new bank just inches from the back door.

"I'm calling 911," said Will picking up his grandmother's landline.

"She won't go," said Sean her caregiver. He sat in the corner looking disheveled and glum.

As he dialed, Will watched his father now leaning against the edge of the dining room table arms crossed holding himself and rocking ever so slightly like a lunatic.

"Dad!" Will shouted snapping his father out of deep thought.

"We've been trying to convince her for hours. She wants to go down with the ship." He shrugged.

"Even if we put her in the loft and she doesn't drown, the electricity will go out and her oxygen compressor will go out!" said Sean wringing his hands as Will spoke to the 911 operator. 

When Will got off the phone, the three men sat in silence.

"I decided three hours ago to leave her but I keep thinking how I'd have to tell everyone at work..." Will's father trailed off, tears in his eyes.

"We will save her even if it is against her will," replied Will.

They resumed a sullen silence listening to the rain beat against the roof for the remainder of the seven minutes it took the fire truck to arrive. 

"You go let them in," said Will. "I'll go tell her." 

Will walked down the dimly lit hallway to his grandmother's bedroom at the end. He slowly opened the door. 

"I'm not going!" said his grandmother before Will had even stepped inside. Her face softened when she saw her grandson and she stubbed out her cigarette. "I haven't left the house in two years and I'm not going now," she said adjusting the oxygen tubing under her nose. 

"The firemen are here, Oma," said Will just as four large handsome men in uniform stepped in behind him pushing a stretcher. 

"Don't worry, ma'am," said a firefighter with the name Simmons on his badge, "we'll get you out of here safely." Another one named Barnes, leaned down and picked her up in one scoop like she weighted nothing. 

Julia's cheeks flushed as she wrapped a weathered arm around the fireman's neck. She smiled graciously. "Oh, thank you," she said sweetly. "You are my heros."

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Afterward: Julia did stay for a few days at her son's house with her devoted caregiver. Miraculously the house did not flood save the crawl space underneath the house and a lower living room which dried out quickly and didn't even need a replacement carpet. The houses on either side of hers were completely destroyed. She returned home and peacefully died three years later just shy of 90.