Reese smiled. “My wife.”
“Smart woman,” Jo said with a nod. “You might wanna watch over your friend. If you want, see what you can find on the radio. Gimme a holler if you need anything.” She pointed at Aiden. “Let’s go, Richard Petty, time to work off that community service.”
“What—what community service?” squeaked Aiden. “And who’s Richard Petty?”
Jo stared at him, hands on her hips, balled into fists. “Who’s…? Boy, get your hide outside. Call it punishment for hitting someone with your daddy’s car.” Jo turned and swept through the front door like a force of nature. Aiden followed along, caught in her wake and sputtering apologies as he went. When the door shut behind her and the boy, the cool stillness of the lobby returned to Reese like a physical wave.
He exhaled, long and slow. “Do what you can…” He turned and went in search of the radio.
Chapter 10
Lavelle Homestead
Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina
By the time Cami pulled into her driveway, the sun was setting, and they’d used half a tank of gas just getting out of Charleston. What should have only taken 30 to 40 minutes on a normal day had taken almost four grueling hours. Despite a circuitous, southwesterly route away from Charleston--thus avoiding most of the traffic streaming west and north on the major highways--they were still mired in slow, bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Cami had never seen so many people on the roads before. Even during some of the worst hurricane evacuations, she'd never seen the sheer volume of cars that had taken to the roads since that morning.
She sighed as the garage door opened. They’d spent most of the time on the road dealing with the effects of the tsunami. Water, pushed more than 12 miles inland, flooded every creek, tributary, and river that flowed into the Ashley. Streams reversed their courses, sending saltwater rushing out onto yards, byways, and right of ways all along the coast. Bridges had been washed out, forcing costly delays to turn around and find alternate routes, and roads turned into rivers.
Cami, grateful that the house still had power, pulled into the garage, shifted into park, and killed the engine. The three of them sat in the car in total silence as the garage door closed behind them. Only then did the tension in Cami’s shoulders and back ease. She leaned against the seat and exhaled.
"You know, I think if we had left any later, we might not have made it…” Amber whispered.
"I just gotta say again, thank you for bringing me along," Mitch added from the back seat. He opened the door and stepped out into Cami's garage. "Wow, you guys got quite the hoard of camping supplies in here.”
"Comes with the territory," Amber said, exiting the passenger side of the car.
Cami stood and stretched, her back popping audibly. “I never know what I'm going to need on guides, and half the people that hire me have no idea what they're supposed to bring." She shrugged. "I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it, you know?”
Mitch nodded. "Words to live by, Cami-san.”
As the sun slipped behind the trees west of the house, bathing the neighborhood in darkness, Cami, Amber, and Mitch unloaded the car. It took them almost an hour to get everything from Walmart inside and squirreled away, but Cami wouldn't let them rest for anything other than bathroom breaks until the job was done. She grimaced and thought about the lost stuff from the camping store every time she picked up a Walmart bag. When everything had been stashed, either in the basement or out in the garage itself, Cami finally relented and allowed the two youngsters to relax.
"Now that we’re home, it doesn't feel all that bad out there, does it?” Amber stretched. “Ugh, I could sure go for a pizza right about now.”
The lights in the kitchen flickered. Cami looked up from her coffee mug. "You can try to order, but I have a feeling we need to start eating the stuff in the fridge."
"What's with the power?" asked Mitch, coming in from the bathroom. “We’re too far inland to be affected, right? I mean, the tsunami’s hitting the coast."
Cami drummed her fingers on the kitchen table for a moment. "This thing could have more effects than just coastal flooding, guys. Think about it," she said, reaching for the TV remote. The small flat-screen TV screen mounted to the kitchen wall underneath a cabinet came to life. The local evening news was on, and a harried reporter, who looked like he hadn’t left the desk all day, was in the middle of relaying facts and figures. Hundreds of thousands of people in the Carolinas were without power; 30,000 were people missing in Charleston alone. Homes destroyed, businesses leveled, entire sections of the coastline stripped bare. Traffic nightmares all up and down the East Coast. The destruction was biblical, and it was only beginning.
Cami kept the volume low but watched the scenes from news helicopters ported in from different states. It all looked the same: raging water frothing along the coastline, carrying debris and buildings and vehicles like sticks on a river. Boston looked just as bad as New York, which looked like Philadelphia. Even Washington, D.C. hadn’t been spared when the Potomac overflowed its banks and flooded everything in sight.
Smoke rose from fires as far as the eye could see, no matter what city the helicopters happened to be floating over. The scrolling marquee at the bottom of the screen continued to give updates of missing, and presumed killed, from major cities all along the coast.
The numbers were
