The Surface, page 27
Joule had tried to talk Moonbeam into coming with them, both because her new friend was smart and useful, but also because she’d feel safer having one of the other group join them—maybe as a bit of insurance.
Robert had protested heartily. Moonbeam didn’t have anything at the other house. There was no need for her to go back outside, friend or not. Had that been merely the protest of a father protecting his daughter from the black bears, the snakes, and apparently the puma? Or was there something more at play?
The one thing that made her feel better was Robert’s insistence that Cage keep the firearm he’d “borrowed” from the Tamblyns. Mickey had then handed over his shotgun to the small group.
“I’ll be inside. You take this.” He’d thrust it into Roxie’s hands, as though recognizing she was the most likely candidate of three girls to actually be willing to stand something down and shoot it.
Despite tense vigilance the whole way there and back, they’d not encountered anything dangerous. At least, not that they saw. And as she now looked around the room, most of Joule’s fears were laid to rest.
Everyone looked dry and happy, and there was food out. Most of them were eating or had already finished.
Moonbeam made a motion toward the meal waiting in the middle of the room. “We made enough for everyone. Please, eat!”
Joule nodded. She'd carried her own backpack, her bow and arrows, as well as several bags of food on her arms. Luckily, the neighbors had cloth grocery bags, which she could sling over her shoulders and carry easily. She’d needed her hands free for protection. They all did.
The five of them were laden with all the things they’d brought and quickly the others jumped up and help them remove the bags.
“Look!” Ginnifer smiled as she held up her phone. The screen was bright, but Joule wasn't sure what she was looking at.
Her expression must have made her confusion clear, because Ginnifer wiggled the phone and motioned to the cord connecting it to a converter connected to the generator that was chugging away in the corner.
Joule frowned again. She hadn’t even noticed the noise when she walked in, though the thing wasn’t quiet. Maybe her brain had simply registered that she didn’t hear the rain anymore and that was enough. Now she walked over to it and admired the machine. She couldn’t help but notice the bright silver flex tubing that came off the back.
The tape job was also silver—duct tape—but it made a good seal, and as she followed it, she found the trail led her to a propped-open window. They’d snaked the tube behind the makeshift barricade and added a tarp to stop the water from coming in. It had taken several of the silver tubes—maybe dryer venting?—duct taped together to make it work. But Joule had seen worse. And they had power.
“This little generator is high end. We found a good one. Pretty new even,” Ginnifer waxed on, clearly pleased with the results. But it was Phil who spoke over her.
“We pulled our little handheld backup batteries from each of the cars—you know, the little charger things? We did that a while ago, but they’re already running low.” He scratched his head and shrugged one shoulder as though he didn’t quite agree. “Ginnifer insists that they're square waves, though, and that’s bad.”
Joule could tell from Phil's expression that he wasn't sure why it mattered if his wave was square or not. Well, it wasn't her favorite thing to do, but she backed up her roommate’s claim. “Square waves will charge your phone, but they'll wear the batteries down a lot faster.”
Phil merely shrugged in response. He’d probably heard the same thing from Ginnifer or Holly and it hadn’t made him think any better of it the first time. “Hopefully, this—” He waved his finger around his head in a circle, as if to indicate the world, the weather, and everything going on in the house, “won't last long enough that I care. If all I have to do is replace a phone battery, I’ll consider that an easy escape.”
Ginnifer laughed as though it were a good joke, and Holly joined her for an uneasy moment before slowly going preternaturally silent.
That's right, Joule thought. We didn’t all escape. It was something maybe Phil hadn't quite figured out yet, despite the fact that they’d told him they’d had to leave Marcus’s body in Phil’s master bedroom.
Joule decided to let it pass and sank down onto a pillow to get herself a meal. She was suddenly starving. The two sets of twins and Gabby tucked into the food quickly and the conversation stalled as they all ate. Joule found it better than anything she’d eaten since leaving the dorm, but hunger and fear were good spice.
“We cooked it over the fire,” Holly told them. “Even though we have the generator and two cans of gasoline, we thought it was smart to ration the fuel and use the fire whenever we can.”
Joule didn't say anything, but it seemed a smart move, so she just watched the faces around her and enjoyed the heat. But it was still barely afternoon. They were unlikely to be asleep anytime soon.
Once she finished, she turned to Kimura, the keeper of all information, it seemed. “Is there any report on the weather for the next few days?”
She still held out the stupid hope that the rain would let up. But Kimura dashed it quickly with a shake of his head. “I even got the radar to pull up.”
His phone also had a long, slim white cord heading into a converter that Ginnifer had set up. He must have managed to get charged enough while they’d been out to turn it back on. So Joule broached the hardest subject one more time. “We need to get back on campus. There are students there and there’s clear land and houses here.”
She paused but continued when no one fought her. “We can’t just leave them stranded.”
Beside her, Cage nodded in agreement. Gabby looked to her and Joule read the expression in her best friend's eyes as clear support.
But Phil waited a beat, and then protested—as she’d expected he would. “Why would you do that? Why go back out? You’re here. You’re safe.”
When she didn’t answer right away—because, honestly, she didn’t want to go back into the rain, ever again—he punched another hole in her request.
“Do you even know where to look?”
It was Ginnifer who held up her phone. “There are messages all over social media. Most are more than a day old, but students were saying they were stuck on campus.” She paused and tapped at the device, not able to move too far because she was still plugged in. Then she held up the screen as evidence. “This is from Meara… I know her. She’s on our hall.”
Joule didn’t know Meara, but the message was clear.
Her roommate continued. “She posted yesterday from the roof of the dorm. Told anyone who read it to tell her parents she loved them. So, yes, we know there were students there—alive—yesterday.”
“Why doesn’t the Coast Guard come get them?”
Surprising Joule, Ginnifer almost exploded at him. “The rain! The winds! They can’t get in safely.”
“Neither can we!”
“Then don’t come!” Joule and Ginnifer said the words in almost perfect unison.
Phil pulled back, his argument stopping at the brick wall of their vehemence.
“So the answer is, yes, we know exactly where to look. But ultimately,” Joule replied, “we made a promise.”
She couldn’t live with herself, safe in a big house, when she’d left so many at the dorm. It didn’t matter that they’d vowed it only amongst themselves. “I’m keeping that promise.”
62
“Tie the boats together like we did the first time,” Cage told them as all hands worked to inflate the rafts again and lash them together. No one wanted to be out in the rain any longer than necessary.
“Shove the one end into the water,” he added, his limbs already cold, his fingers numb. It wasn't the weather. They'd been out and about in this several times. They’d had to inspect and repair the bite marks, check the boats over, and count the oars. Despite a good night's sleep, he didn't want to be here.
It would be easier to stay in the house and eat the food that the Winchesters seemed to have stockpiled. He could enjoy reading a book and seeing if his phone had charged enough to message his grandparents and let them know he and Joule were safe.
Instead, they were here, testing the idea that Joule had put forth. Kimura and Ginnifer had talked their way through the design. Holly had made it a reality, and Ginnifer had supplied the charge.
“Hold on to this end,” Joule told the others, understanding Cage’s wariness about getting back on the water. She was worried, too. But he could see determination in her eyes as well. She looked at him until she had his full attention. “I'll go out.”
“No,” he replied. “We'll go together.”
“Do you have everything?” Dr. Kimura asked, and for a moment, Cage wondered about the professor. Why didn't he want to be on the end of the boat, over the deep water? Wouldn't he want to see his precious elasmobranchs? Shouldn’t he want to count the fins? But Kimura didn't seem to feel the need to step foot into the boat at all.
Cage reached out and clasped Joule’s hand before turning to check that his friends were anchoring their end of the tethered boats on land. Essentially, they’d made a floating dock, allowing them to get out over water that was deep enough to be meaningful, without ever stepping down into it.
For the first time in just over forty-eight hours, he felt the give of water and rubber under his feet. Cage felt the boat tip as Joule stepped in slowly beside him. It took only half a second to steady himself. He'd been in the boat for so long that this was second nature now. Within three steps, they’d dropped to their knees and crawled along, awkwardly holding their supplies.
They moved up and over the bump where the boats were tied together. Joule held up her Ziploc bag, showing off the shampoo bottle inside. It was her way of asking if he was ready. He didn’t speak, just held his own bag in return. His held pieces of deli meat, definitely past their expiration date, and almost spoiled.
The Winchester’s fridge had at least proved helpful here. He was more than grateful that someone had stocked the house before everything had gone to hell. So far, their new friends had given the group everything they needed. Now, the plan was simple.
Moment by rocking moment, they made their way to the far end and sat there, watching the water, neither of them speaking. Cage wondered if he would see a fin break the surface. He wondered if the sharks were swimming below him, or even what else might be moving around down there—something they hadn't already found.
He didn't see anything. And, after a short silence, tired of the rain coming down on his face and simply wanting to get this over with he nodded to his sister. “I’m going to throw it.”
Opening the bag, he peeled the first piece of meat, wadded it up, and chucked it overhand as far as he could. It hit the water with a splash. When nothing happened, Cage thought it might all be a failure. They had to attract the sharks to know if everything worked.
He counted down. Three… Two…
He was about to tell them they could go back inside when the meat bobbed once suddenly and then disappeared. A small head appeared next to it, chomping at the water, before Cage could even comment.
Joule’s face didn't change expression, and she only nodded as though this had been thoroughly expected. “Throw the next one.”
Cage peeled the next piece of meat from the slick stack and did it again. This time he threw it to a slightly different location. And once again, a head came up and swallowed the food whole.
But this time, the first shark was butted out of the way by a second.
“Three,” Joule whispered and pointed. Cage watched as a fin broke the surface near the other two. “Throw another.”
He lobbed this one in between where the first two had landed, trying to establish an area where the food appeared. Next to him, Joule began to move, her hands checking the bag and the strings they’d attached without puncturing the airtight seal.
“All right,” she said. “It's time.”
She rose to her knees and held the bag up in front of her face, as though the dim light and the rain would let her see anything of value. They’d closed the bag tightly, squeezing out as much air as possible. Inside, the shampoo container had been cleaned and fitted with a small piece of electronics. That was powered by a set of two nine-volt batteries that they’d pulled from the Winchesters’ closet.
Joule didn’t look inside the shampoo bottle now. She didn’t dare open the carefully sealed bag. It was time to trust and throw.
“Here goes nothing.” She said and used the string like a lasso to fling the bag and bottle into the water. It landed with a smack a good ten feet away from the end of the boat dock, almost in the middle of where he’d thrown the three pieces of meat. She’d nailed the mark.
Neither of them let their eyes stray from the surface around the bottle. Cage watched closely for any activity. When nothing happened, Joule didn’t turn her head, but whispered above the sound of the rain. “Throw the meat.”
The shampoo bottle was mostly air and the Ziploc bag it was sealed inside still floated on the surface where they could see it.
Cage tried to get the meat slice to land near the container and almost nailed it the first time. He waited and watched as the slimy meat sat on the surface, untouched.
Then he threw another slice several feet away from the shampoo bottle and waited and waited. But nothing rose up to eat it.
63
Joule rolled her eyes. The living room was warm and comfortable, but the conversation was a mess.
“You just have to get there,” Ginnifer argued. “So you want to take as few people as possible—someone who can make the trip. That’s all.”
No, Joule thought, that’s not enough—
But Ginnifer was talking over her. “Once you pick up the other people, they can help row back. They’ll probably be very excited to be rowing. It will mean they’re heading to safety.” Ginnifer waved her hands around, palms flat and out, as if her idea was patently clear.
“No,” Joule repeated, out loud this time. “We don't know that the people we pick up will be healthy. Chances are, they ran out of food a while ago. So even if they're healthy, they may not be strong enough to take on the hard task of rowing. They might need medical treatment, which means we need to take enough people to row there, row back, and take care of anybody sick that we bring on board.”
“You also need someone on defense,” Phil said, his hand in his pocket, likely still wrapped around his firearm. It bothered Joule how infrequently he laid it down. Even though they’d barricaded the doors and the windows, he seemed to think a bear might still tear its way through, and that his nine millimeter would be an adequate response.
She almost asked the man what kind of defense he had in mind. They were already going in with a good offense. Or at least, as good as they could come up with.
Ginnifer sighed, but finally stepped back from her rally for the skeleton crew.
“The question is,” Joule continued, “What are the numbers that we need? Can four people row out there and back?” She paused a moment and then added, “It was a hard row on the way out here. We were exhausted.”
“But we went out of our way and picked up Kimura,” her brother added. For a half-second, Joule thought he was blaming the professor for their extra work, but then her brother continued, “And we might need to take that same kind of route when we go back. It was good practice for what might happen on this trip.”
Roxie chimed in next. “Conceivably, whoever goes may end up rowing all over campus. It just depends on where there are people to be picked up.”
That was a huge task. Joule wasn’t certain it was even possible. The hill here rose behind the area where their dorm was, but campus was huge if your mode of transportation was inflatable rescue rafts and oars… in the rain.
“We might also deal with the issue of a riot,” Sky pointed out, her voice soft, but her logic solid.
“If only we had boats coming in waves.” Joule could visualize it. Almost like the trams at amusement parks or buses in the city. When one left, you could spot the next one in the distance, already on the way. “It might help if they could see someone coming up behind us, ready to take the next round of stragglers.” She didn't want to say survivors. Didn’t want to think about what the numbers might really be.
So she turned to the group at large. “Can we do that? Can we make several trips with different crew? Have an A crew and a B crew? The first crew goes out. They pick up whoever they can. And as soon as they land, the second group launches.”
She wanted that badly. Wanted to have something to tell anyone they found, if they didn’t have enough room in the boat. Her heart was breaking just thinking about it. And that was given the best possible outcome. Her bigger—scarier—concern was that they would get back to campus and find nothing.
“I think that works.” Mickey nodded along as though thinking. Though, from the look on Mickey’s face, he wanted to be neither A crew nor B crew. Joule imagined that he would quickly volunteer for the C crew—the one that stayed at home to cook the stew and defend the place against bears.
If they managed to bring enough people here, maybe he would help them open another house or two up the street. But as they hashed out the logistics of rescuing their fellow students, Joule began to wonder…
“Why haven't more people been arriving? Surely someone else would have found a boat or a way off campus. This is high ground. Some of them would have come here. Right?”
“I don't know,” Moonbeam replied, looking thoughtful. “Could they have swum here? It's not that far, and when you're determined—” She cut her own thought off midway.
The Winchesters had fetched Moonbeam when the flooding was still low. Mickey and Chester had run into town in Mickey’s jacked-up truck, plowing through roads awash in dirty water. It was the same truck Joule and Cage had seen drop her off the first time they’d met her. So they’d not seen water deep enough to have to worry about what was swimming underneath. They seemed to believe the students about the sharks—but from their reactions, they’d seen nothing of it. Their belief was tenuous.
