the swirling water got over my hips, I had trouble staying on my feet. When it got to my waist, it was all I could do to stand upright. The water was now circling in a large swirling, surprisingly powerful current as torrents flowed down the streets and into the underpass.
Taking what line I had left, I passed the rope through the open windows and tried to make a clove hitch around doorframes. I didn’t have quite enough rope, and my hands were so cold I wasn’t sure I was getting the ends of the rope where I needed them to be.
When I let go, the line wasn’t as taut as I would have liked. But when I pulled hard on it, it held.
I turned to face the frightened face of the woman on top of the SUV.
“You wanna give me one of the kids?” I hollered.
“Will the rope hold?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I sure hope so.”
As she hesitated, the vehicle lurched a few inches in the water, tightening the line.
I didn’t blame her for not trusting me. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself. I said, “Or I can stay here with one kid while you take the other one.”
That didn’t seem like as good an idea. She was tiny. I wasn’t huge—a little over six foot and a hundred and eighty pounds—but I’d been doing physical work, and those were pretty solid pounds.
She closed her eyes for a minute, then handed down the struggling toddler.
I turned him so he was facing me and clutched him to my chest with one hand, while I hung onto the rope with the other. “Put your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck,” I told him.
He was frightened and sobbing, but he did what I told him.
“Now hang on tight.” I began the trip through the water back to the sidewalk.
With the rope to hang onto, it was easier to make it to the sidewalk than it had been to get out to the SUV, even with the extra weight of the kid hanging on to me.
A floating plastic recycling bin swept toward us. I turned my back to shield the kid and braced myself. It bounced off my back and continued on its way. It didn’t knock me over, but I’d have a nasty bruise there.
The man held his arms out for the kid as soon as I got close enough for him to reach. The kid didn’t want to let go of me, but I moved in next to the curb and let the man grab him. I had to pry his arms from around my neck.
I turned around and made my way out to the SUV again without waiting to see what they were going to do with the kid. I hoped someone had a dry blanket and enough sense to take his wet clothes off, wrap him in it, and put him in a car out of the rain.
The woman was kneeling on the edge of the SUV’s roof when I got back out. She handed me the car seat. A tiny figure in a pink hooded outfit wailed, arms thrashing. “Try to keep her out of the water,” the woman said.
What did she think I was going to do? Dunk the car seat in the water to see if it floated? I hefted it onto my shoulder. The baby continued to scream. I didn’t blame her in the least. I felt like screaming myself.
“You need to climb down and come along behind me,” I shouted to the woman over the noise of the baby and the rushing water.
She looked frightened and shook her head. “The rope might not hold!”
She had a point.
“Okay,” I shouted back. “As soon I get to the edge, you get down and follow.”
“I can’t,” she wailed.
Jeez. I was making two trips with the kids, and she wouldn’t even try to get herself over there? The water was getting deeper, lapping at the roof of the SUV. But we didn’t have time to argue about it now. I turned and waded toward the sidewalk.
When I got to the sidewalk again, the man stepped out and reached for the car seat. I couldn’t see who had the toddler, but I wasn’t about to waste time worrying about it.
Another car, a little green one, pulled up to the edge of the water. I hoped it was someone who could help. I was getting awfully tired, and I just wanted to close my eyes for a minute and take a rest. I was just coherent enough to
Taking what line I had left, I passed the rope through the open windows and tried to make a clove hitch around doorframes. I didn’t have quite enough rope, and my hands were so cold I wasn’t sure I was getting the ends of the rope where I needed them to be.
When I let go, the line wasn’t as taut as I would have liked. But when I pulled hard on it, it held.
I turned to face the frightened face of the woman on top of the SUV.
“You wanna give me one of the kids?” I hollered.
“Will the rope hold?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I sure hope so.”
As she hesitated, the vehicle lurched a few inches in the water, tightening the line.
I didn’t blame her for not trusting me. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself. I said, “Or I can stay here with one kid while you take the other one.”
That didn’t seem like as good an idea. She was tiny. I wasn’t huge—a little over six foot and a hundred and eighty pounds—but I’d been doing physical work, and those were pretty solid pounds.
She closed her eyes for a minute, then handed down the struggling toddler.
I turned him so he was facing me and clutched him to my chest with one hand, while I hung onto the rope with the other. “Put your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck,” I told him.
He was frightened and sobbing, but he did what I told him.
“Now hang on tight.” I began the trip through the water back to the sidewalk.
With the rope to hang onto, it was easier to make it to the sidewalk than it had been to get out to the SUV, even with the extra weight of the kid hanging on to me.
A floating plastic recycling bin swept toward us. I turned my back to shield the kid and braced myself. It bounced off my back and continued on its way. It didn’t knock me over, but I’d have a nasty bruise there.
The man held his arms out for the kid as soon as I got close enough for him to reach. The kid didn’t want to let go of me, but I moved in next to the curb and let the man grab him. I had to pry his arms from around my neck.
I turned around and made my way out to the SUV again without waiting to see what they were going to do with the kid. I hoped someone had a dry blanket and enough sense to take his wet clothes off, wrap him in it, and put him in a car out of the rain.
The woman was kneeling on the edge of the SUV’s roof when I got back out. She handed me the car seat. A tiny figure in a pink hooded outfit wailed, arms thrashing. “Try to keep her out of the water,” the woman said.
What did she think I was going to do? Dunk the car seat in the water to see if it floated? I hefted it onto my shoulder. The baby continued to scream. I didn’t blame her in the least. I felt like screaming myself.
“You need to climb down and come along behind me,” I shouted to the woman over the noise of the baby and the rushing water.
She looked frightened and shook her head. “The rope might not hold!”
She had a point.
“Okay,” I shouted back. “As soon I get to the edge, you get down and follow.”
“I can’t,” she wailed.
Jeez. I was making two trips with the kids, and she wouldn’t even try to get herself over there? The water was getting deeper, lapping at the roof of the SUV. But we didn’t have time to argue about it now. I turned and waded toward the sidewalk.
When I got to the sidewalk again, the man stepped out and reached for the car seat. I couldn’t see who had the toddler, but I wasn’t about to waste time worrying about it.
Another car, a little green one, pulled up to the edge of the water. I hoped it was someone who could help. I was getting awfully tired, and I just wanted to close my eyes for a minute and take a rest. I was just coherent enough to
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