dandelion // h.s.

e i g h t

The morning of May third emerges a bit like a dream for the people of Jack Creek. Though the worst of the weather is gone, the rain persists, hammering down through the fog while residents are roused from sleep by Garett Fordham's morning report.

"Hope everyone managed to stay dry overnight," Garett jokes with a veneered smile. "Let's head over to Lena for the morning traffic report."

Lena Whyte, dressed in a crisp dress that most certainly didn't come from any store in Jack Creek, waits with a pristine smile as the camera pans to her. "Thank you Garett, good to see you fared the storm well. A word of advice to our viewers: due to record-breaking rainfall many of the side streets and residential roads are experiencing some flooding. We should have a more detailed report on the damages as the day continues, so stay tuned folks."

At the hardware store, Boo grows infuriated with waiting. After an entire night of being in the dark, she's anxious to see Martha again. When the howling of the wind dies down to a dull roar, Boo makes her move. Ditching her shoddy blue apron and gathering her stuff, she ignores the advice of her coworkers and braves the waterlogged roads that lead to town.

She tries several times to phone Martha during the drive to make sure she knew to expect Boo's arrival, but every time she calls she's sent straight to voicemail. The phone lines are presumably still down, something to be expected after a storm like Monroe. Boo even tries Lori's phone, but unsurprisingly she doesn't answer. Boo tries to not let herself become too alarmed at the lack of communication.

Coming up on the edge of town, she begins to see the true depth of Monroe's damage. Power lines are downed, trees snapped in half and laying across roads, and dozens of houses are missing windows and roofs. Debris is scattered across every inch of the ground, decorating the earth with mosaics of wreckage. Her car crawls across the flooded streets, her hands shaking as she takes in the chaos around her. The majority of Jack Creek seems to lay in ruins.

The only moment she dares touch her gas pedal for more than a split second is when she rounds the sharp turn at the bottom of the hill where Martha's house is. At the top of the hill, almost a mile up the road, she can see a flurry of police lights shimmering through the rain.

And, in a heart-stopping turn of events, no sight of Nana's house.

Boo speeds up the road and comes to a screeching stop just beyond the threshold of yellow police tape flapping in the morning breeze. Police cars line nearly half the street as dozens of officers walk around the nearby houses, knocking on doors and checking on residents. The entire neighborhood seems to be milling about outside, unperturbed by the continuous rain. Even H. Styles has finally left his house; Boo can see his tall figure puttering about in his front yard, his long curls fluttering in the breezy rain. She steps out of the car to join the mayhem around Martha's house and is immediately horrified at the scene.

The hurricane had done more damage than she predicted. Built more than eighty years prior, Nana's house had withstood everything: tropical storms, two housing market crashes, and decades of pesky neighbors. But Monroe had gotten the best of it. Not only is the house a destroyed mess, it's been almost completely ripped from the foundation. All that remains behind is a sprawling pile of debris and a few flimsy walls left standing. The rest of the house undoubtedly lays at the bottom of the cliff.