Leak

Chapter One

I wrenched open the door. It flew backwards and bounced off the wall, pieces of drywall crumbled to the floor.

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath. But I was more worried about finding my husband and getting the hell out of here.

"Jake!" I'd tried calling him - nothing. No reply from my frantic texts either. "Where the hell are you?" My feet pounded on the hardwood floor as I searched the house. I was alone. "Shit."

Why wasn't he answering? I needed to talk to him.

There wasn't time.

I ran up the stairs and dashed into the kids' room. Clothes were heaped in piles and strewn all over their closet floor, a rainbow of colors and fabrics. No wonder they were never able to find anything. Shoving the clothes aside, I reached out blindly, going by feel. My fingers brushed along the wall, the ridges of plaster a braille I couldn't read.

"Finally." I yanked the two suitcases free and tossed them onto the beds.

I took a deep breath and struggled to organize my racing thoughts. Which items were the most important? What would they need?

I looked around the room, a decade of memories stacked upon one another. Stuffed animals were shoved into corners and shelves alongside books of every genre. Framed awards shouted accolades from recitals and art contests. We'd have to leave it all behind. I swallowed the tears; there wasn't time for grieving.

I tore clothing from hangers, practical items, ones of quality that would last. Who knew how long we'd need them? I grabbed a mini sewing kit for repairs. Stores would be scarce where we were going — safe ones anyway. Jeans, flannel pajamas, t-shirts with funny sayings, tank tops, socks, and underwear, I folded each haphazardly, pressing them flat to make sure there was a decent amount of room.

Our whole lives reduced to a single suitcase apiece. I wiped at the tears that escaped.

I grabbed each of their backpacks and stuffed them with notebooks, a few favorite books, and pencils. They could draw or write to stave off boredom. My hand hovered over their tablets. Indecision made me hesitate. They could use them for a while, it would help during the long drive. I threw them both in the case, aware of the valuable space they took up in each bag. The zipper strained against the pressure. A few hours of precious normalcy and quiet during the drive would be worth it.

Flip flops fit easily in the spaces between the clothes. They'd take longer to outgrow. Their sneakers were with them at school; one less thing to worry about.

I checked the time. I had two hours until school pick-up. Two hours to pack our lives away, find my husband, and get the hell away from here before the shit hit the fan.

The kids were packed. Memories were left behind in drawers and on shelves. Maybe we'd be able to return one day, maybe things would be okay. Maybe...

I was wasting time. I ran to our bedroom and tossed clothes in suitcases for my husband. He wouldn't need any suits or ties where we were going. My fingers brushed the soft silk, passing it by for sturdy cotton, for simplicity. Suitcases packed, I threw jewelry into a bag, bypassing anything that wasn't of value. I tried not to think of the memories attached to each piece I left behind, the handmade pieces from the kids each made with love and tiny fingers.

Bruised and battered, my heart beat loudly in my ears as panic made me fumble. I would take one from each of my children. They were small trinkets, taking up little room in the suitcase. I could hide them in the lining if necessary.

I found an old camping backpack in the garage, filling it with our charging cords, mine and my husband's tablets, and an emergency radio that charged from a hand crank. A couple of flashlights, a can opener, and a first aid kit were next.