on. The Duesenberg was half full of water, but it was still afloat. And JJ was still clamped to the bonnet and holding on for dear life.
James stretched a hand out over the windscreen towards the little boy.
‘Don’t panic,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right. Just stay calm.’
JJ looked at him and nodded.
‘Can you reach me?’ said James.
JJ said nothing. He steeled himself, then let go with one hand and held it, shaking, in the air. James grabbed hold and hauled him into the car.
‘That was kind of fun,’ said JJ, but James could feel his whole body trembling.
‘It’s not over yet,’ said James.
‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’ said JJ.
‘Of course.’
‘You won’t leave us, will you? Whatever Precious says.’
‘No. Everything’s going to be all right now.’
But what James hadn’t seen was that just ahead of them three streets came together. Water was pouring down all of them and meeting in a great churning, foaming, turbulent mess of scummy yellow floodwater at the junction.
The car steamed into the middle of it and its nose went under, throwing James and JJ out. James was spun over and over, round and round, with no idea which way was up and which was down.
He was smashed into the wall of a building, then dragged along the ground, then somehow he was thrown clear and found himself washed up on someone’s window ledge.
He vomited up a bellyful of water and looked for any sign of JJ.
Two dead bodies washed past, but neither of them was JJ, thank God. And then he saw a tiny dark shape bobbing in the waves. It was JJ’s head. There was no way James could get to him, though. To go back into the water would be suicide.
Maybe the boy would stay afloat. The escaping floodwater couldn’t go on like this forever. Sooner or later it would peter out.
But the boy was only seven, and James didn’t even know if he could swim.
‘Don’t give up, JJ,’ he said bitterly, choking back hot tears. ‘Don’t give up…’
James felt utterly useless. Twice he had lost the boy now. He had let him down badly. He made a promise that if JJ lived he wouldn’t sleep or eat or think about himself for one moment until he and his sister were safe and well.
But would JJ live? He watched the little boy’s head being carried away down the street. Every so often it would sink from view and James would hold his breath until it appeared again, but each time it stayed under longer.
Then he saw someone step out into the raging flood, which was almost up to his chest.
It was Garcia.
He stood there, battling the water that was trying to push him away, and snatched JJ from the torrent. James saw that he had a rope tied around his waist and he used it to get them back to safety.
James wept with relief.
James stayed on the window ledge for half an hour while the flow of water gradually died down. Then he heard someone sloshing along the alleyway, and there was a very miserable-looking Precious.
He jumped down from his perch. There was still a sizeable stream flowing, but he could stand up safely without fear of being washed away.
‘Where is he?’ said Precious, fear cracking her voice.
‘He’s all right,’ said James.
‘Oh, thank God.’ Precious collapsed into tears and James took hold of her.
‘He’s all right,’ James repeated. ‘We’ll find him.’
Precious seemed numb. James told her what had happened and took her to the spot where he had seen Garcia pull JJ from the water.
They found the two of them on a balcony. Garcia was wiping the boy’s forehead and drying him in the sun. JJ was awake but very feeble. Precious hugged him and kissed him, and babbled about how worried she had been. JJ responded well to this mothering. He sat up and smiled and started talking feverishly about his adventures ‘on the boat’.
The strip of dress he had been wearing as a bandage had been torn off in the water and his cut leg was exposed.
The wound looked red, raw and ugly. The two sides were
James stretched a hand out over the windscreen towards the little boy.
‘Don’t panic,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right. Just stay calm.’
JJ looked at him and nodded.
‘Can you reach me?’ said James.
JJ said nothing. He steeled himself, then let go with one hand and held it, shaking, in the air. James grabbed hold and hauled him into the car.
‘That was kind of fun,’ said JJ, but James could feel his whole body trembling.
‘It’s not over yet,’ said James.
‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’ said JJ.
‘Of course.’
‘You won’t leave us, will you? Whatever Precious says.’
‘No. Everything’s going to be all right now.’
But what James hadn’t seen was that just ahead of them three streets came together. Water was pouring down all of them and meeting in a great churning, foaming, turbulent mess of scummy yellow floodwater at the junction.
The car steamed into the middle of it and its nose went under, throwing James and JJ out. James was spun over and over, round and round, with no idea which way was up and which was down.
He was smashed into the wall of a building, then dragged along the ground, then somehow he was thrown clear and found himself washed up on someone’s window ledge.
He vomited up a bellyful of water and looked for any sign of JJ.
Two dead bodies washed past, but neither of them was JJ, thank God. And then he saw a tiny dark shape bobbing in the waves. It was JJ’s head. There was no way James could get to him, though. To go back into the water would be suicide.
Maybe the boy would stay afloat. The escaping floodwater couldn’t go on like this forever. Sooner or later it would peter out.
But the boy was only seven, and James didn’t even know if he could swim.
‘Don’t give up, JJ,’ he said bitterly, choking back hot tears. ‘Don’t give up…’
James felt utterly useless. Twice he had lost the boy now. He had let him down badly. He made a promise that if JJ lived he wouldn’t sleep or eat or think about himself for one moment until he and his sister were safe and well.
But would JJ live? He watched the little boy’s head being carried away down the street. Every so often it would sink from view and James would hold his breath until it appeared again, but each time it stayed under longer.
Then he saw someone step out into the raging flood, which was almost up to his chest.
It was Garcia.
He stood there, battling the water that was trying to push him away, and snatched JJ from the torrent. James saw that he had a rope tied around his waist and he used it to get them back to safety.
James wept with relief.
James stayed on the window ledge for half an hour while the flow of water gradually died down. Then he heard someone sloshing along the alleyway, and there was a very miserable-looking Precious.
He jumped down from his perch. There was still a sizeable stream flowing, but he could stand up safely without fear of being washed away.
‘Where is he?’ said Precious, fear cracking her voice.
‘He’s all right,’ said James.
‘Oh, thank God.’ Precious collapsed into tears and James took hold of her.
‘He’s all right,’ James repeated. ‘We’ll find him.’
Precious seemed numb. James told her what had happened and took her to the spot where he had seen Garcia pull JJ from the water.
They found the two of them on a balcony. Garcia was wiping the boy’s forehead and drying him in the sun. JJ was awake but very feeble. Precious hugged him and kissed him, and babbled about how worried she had been. JJ responded well to this mothering. He sat up and smiled and started talking feverishly about his adventures ‘on the boat’.
The strip of dress he had been wearing as a bandage had been torn off in the water and his cut leg was exposed.
The wound looked red, raw and ugly. The two sides were
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