Let's Make History

The Flood Pt. II

I heard screaming and the rush of footsteps. I sat up, wide awake. I clicked my lamp on but it wouldn't light up. I groaned and lied back down. Why are they screaming over a blackout?

Then I heard splashing.

What the hell was happening? My heart started to race. I yelled, "Saf? Temo? What's going on down there?"

The screams kept going but I heard Temo saying something along the lines of "no time", "vamos" and "don't stop for anything."

Now I was really wide awake. The sounds of splashing and rushing water made my heart beat even faster and my palms started to get sweaty. I started to scream, "Temo! Temo, what's happening? Is something wrong?"

I heard Temo curse in Spanish. "Clara! Why the hell are you still up there? Quickly, we have to go, the storm's going crazy. It's starting to flood!"

"What?" I screamed, my voice cracking a little. "Why are we leaving then? Aren't we safer in the house?"

"The news said everyone in Don Gaya should evacuate. Quickly, Clara, we don't have much time. The roads are already flooded, the government sent rescuers to get us."

I pulled my drawer open and took out a flashlight. I clicked it on and shoved the end in mouth so I could see better. I started stuffing my pockets with anything that could be useful to me. Anything that meant something to me.

After stuffing my pockets, I crawled out of bed, my useless legs dragging behind me. I plopped my butt on the skateboard. I may have lost feeing in my legs but I can still feel things in my nether regions. And slamming my ass that fast on the board stings.

I pushed myself towards the entrance and pulled at the latch, expecting it to spring open so I can lower myself into my chair to the safety of my family. But it doesn't budge.

I pulled again, harder.

It's jammed.

I pulled once more and the latch flew off, splintering the weak wood it was fixated on.

Shit. It doesn't matter now, I tell myself. I try to wrench the entrance on the floor of the attic, prying the sides with my fingers. I felt the splinters digging into the spaces under my nails. I pull back, my hands wet, probably covered in blood, most likely sweat.

I ball my hand into a fist and slam it on the opening. It didn't work, it opens inwards and all that did was make me wince in pain.

"Temo! Help, the door's jammed!" I scream, clutching my hand.

"You don't even have a door!"

I roll my eyes and yell back, "Pull the string, Temo!"

No reply, just more yelling and screams.

"The string, Temo! Pull it!"

Then I heard our door break open. Shouting, but I don't recognize any of the voices. Then I heard Temo and Saf screaming themselves hoarse.

"Please, she's still there!"

"She's stuck in the attic!"

"Let me go!"

"Clara! They'll come back for you!"

My heart beats faster as the sounds of struggle and yelling start to fade. Slowly and slowly until it completely disappeared. I heard my pulse in my ears. This couldn't be true.

My throat felt bone dry but I screamed anyway. I wasn't sure what I said, but it was loud enough to wake up the whole of Don Gaya. I screamed about pulling the string, about how I'm still here and how I can't walk. I pounded my fists at the entrance, cursing, screaming. I didn't even realize that tears were streaming down my face.

I roll back to my bed, hoisted myself up and crawled towards my window. I could only see a section of the road and a rescue team. The road was flooded, entirely flooded. The rescue team was on a giant inflatable raft. I watched as they carried Saf into the boat. I watched her thrashing and struggling, her muffled cries making complete and no sense through my window. Temo and Nacho were pulled out of the house next. It took two people to get Temo to the boat without restraining. Nacho resisted but only slightly. He didn't even fully know what was going on until he saw the flooded streets. Then he went limp.

I felt my eyes sting as hot tears start streaming down my face. My body was shaking. We were the last house on Don Gaya and the boat was already floating away into the city. I fall back on my bed, the last thing I remember seeing through the window was the flood waters making its way into the houses.

Even if I did manage to escape this room and get on my wheelchair. There was no way I could swim or attract enough attention for the boat to come back.

This was it.

If someone asked me a week ago if I'd rather drown or see my mother's face again, I would have said that I'd swim to the bottom of the ocean. The universe wasn't playing around. Looks like I'm never seeing my mother's face again.

A/N: *slams fist on table* No, Darlene, I will not edit this again.