Page 2 of A Light in the Dark
Somehow, a three foot span of my steps remained, although the water ate away at them.
I slipped my left hand into the leather loop I had attached to the wall inside my home, which was designed to tighten around my wrist when tugged. I could only hope it worked as intended, else I’d end up a victim like the woman I wanted to rescue. I’d spent two hundred bucks for a professional to make certain the metal clamp embedded into the wall wouldn’t come out without a lot of work, so I held some hope it would keep me tethered to the building, even if I fell.
Upstream, a green glow illuminated the steps two doors up, and in the luminescence, I spotted a figure struggling to cling to the stone. It amazed me she’d managed to hold on at all.
The steps weren’t designed to save victims caught in the water.
As I would only have one chance to rescue the woman, I reached out with my right hand and grabbed for the bell rope attached to the side of every home. I rang it for all I was worth to alert those downstream that someone was in the water.
Then I prepared the life preserver and a prayer, waiting for the moment the water won and dragged her from her haphazard perch. The librarians opened their door, too late to make a grab for the victim struggling to keep her head above water.
The flood dragged the woman my way. With the lift reduced to rubble in the opening volley, along with most everything else on the street, I held some hope she wouldn’t be pummeled by much debris. I dared to ease out onto the ruins of my steps, eyeing her trajectory. The green light followed, and I realized a glowing moth of some sort escorted the woman. To where, I wasn’t sure—likely her grave if I missed.
I went out all the way to where the torrent chewed away at my steps, clutching my left hand line and testing its length. At most, I had six inches to work with. Pushing aside the thought of falling, I treated the woman’s head like a target. If I got the preserver around her, I scored full points and won a life: hers.
I had no idea who I prayed to, but using her head and the moth as my guide, I flung the preserver her way. Down the street, someone had taken up ringing bells, and lights turned on to better illuminate the churning waters.
My preserver smacked into the woman’s face. She grabbed for it, and to my astonishment, the damned thing flipped over her head with one arm firmly wrapped around it. I scrambled to draw in the line, wrapping it around my wrist to make use of my weight and my tether.
When she hit the end of the line, it would hurt like hell, but as long as I didn’t lose my hold, I could haul her in one painful pull at a time.
Aware that every second mattered, I used the precious time before she went past my door to dive into my home, drop to the floor, and brace both feet against the door sill. When I’d asked the contractors to install two braces for my shoes that would work around my door without making the whole damned thing look stupid, they’d laughed at me.
Until a survivor of the floods realized what I meant to do.
Without being able to brace with my feet, the flood and the woman’s weight would have dumped me into the water with her. As it was, the rope dug into my right arm and wrist, numbing my fingers and leaving friction burns I wouldn’t forget anytime soon. To my relief, my tether held.
From my vantage, I had a good view of the woman and the moth. She’d situated herself in the preserver, and she’d discovered the loop of rope I’d installed to give her a handhold, making use of it. Then she reached up, found the first of the knots in the line, and battled the water to pull herself to my steps. The rope swung her towards the foundation, and while not much of my steps remained, I supposed it helped a little with the relentless current.
Inch by painful inch, she hauled herself to my steps. I held my position, my entire body shaking from the effort of keeping the water from reclaiming its prize.
As she drew close, I lost sight of her, but I maintained my pose, waiting for the moment she reached up for help out. Sure enough, a slender hand came into view. Aware it could cost me my life if something went wrong, I slipped my left hand free of its restraint, leaned forward, and clasped her hand in mine.
I bent my knees, and once I had a hold on her with both hands, I used all my strength to shove backwards against thebraces. She scrambled up my steps and fell on top of me in the doorway. For a long moment, we both panted while the moth fluttered over us. After catching my breath, I rolled the woman off me and sat up, shaking the rope free from my arm. I got up and peered out my door, looking down the hill. My neighbors leaned out of their doorways. I waved and pointed in my house, hoping they understood I’d gotten more than a little lucky.
My neighbor rang their bell in three short intervals, Stonecreek’s sign all was well.
Usually, the bells fell quiet and left dread in their wake as, one by one, we understood the waters had claimed another life.
I closed my door, breathed in deep, and wondered what I would do with a half-drowned woman and a moth. I’d figure something out.
I always did.
As I hadno way of knowing when the flood would subside, I went to work settling my new guests. The moth made itself at home on the lampshade near my bay window. After a quick check of the internet, I determined it was some form of luna moth, although mundane moths didn’t glow. I assumed someone up the hill had a shapeshifting secret they didn’t want others to know about.
According to the internet, mundane luna moths lived roughly a week and didn’t eat at all. A link regarding shapeshifters who could become moths—or creaturessimilar to moths—stated they’d eat just about anything but had a preference for sugary fare, much like a bee.
As such, I cut up a pear, added a little water to the dish, and set it on the stand near the lamp for the moth to investigate as it wanted. Then I went to deal with my other guest, who would take a great deal more work to reassure and check over. She’d stayed where I’d left her, sitting in the hallway while shivering. I got her to her feet, escorted her to the bathroom, and ran the shower, taking a moment to place my hand against her skin so I could match the temperature.
The last thing I wanted to do was shock someone suffering from hypothermia. “I’m Valerie. The fastest way to warm you up is to start with a cool shower and gradually warm it up. Take your time. I’ll need to stay in here with you to make sure you don’t fall or suffer from other symptoms, but it’s hard to get rescue personnel to the individual houses during the flood. If your teeth are chattering, don’t try to talk.”
I had no idea if her trying to speak with chattering teeth would result in a bitten tongue.
Outside of warming her up in slow increments and getting her dry and tucked into bed, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. If she had any internal injuries, we’d have trouble on our hands. There was no way anyone would be able to get to us. While rescuers might be able to send a helicopter, how would I get rescuers into the house without them risking a plunge into the flood?
I had a courtyard, but I had no idea if it was spacious enough for such an endeavor.
The woman nodded, and to my relief, she started to strip. I took her clothes, promised to wash and dry them while sheshowered, and suggested that once she got warmed up, she soak in the tub. “Do you have any allergies?”
