Pain rose and crashed over Esme like powerful waves hitting the shore. The swells advanced, bigger and faster. She fought against the desire to join in Tammy’s sobs, which rose from below in a long, unbroken stream. Her cries had become steadier and louder over the last hour as the water continued to rise, announcing its advance as it crept up her legs. 

How much elevation separated her from Matty and Bella? Will the rising sea lap at my babies soon? Esme swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed the thought away.

“Where is it coming from?” asked Mike, trying to stay quiet. “Maybe the building’s weight displaced enough sand to put us below sea level…” he mused.

“Mike,” Carol admonished her husband. 

“Sorry,” he muttered.

After about 30 seconds of nothing but Tammy’s audible terror, Carol said, “José? You doing okay?”

They hadn’t heard a word from him since he stopped weeping a while ago. He still didn’t–or wouldn’t–answer.

“Matty?” Esme called out.

“Uh, huh?”

“Do you feel wet at all?” Esme asked in what she hoped was a light tone.

“Whadaya mean?”

“Do you see any water…under you?”

“No,” Matty said, unease painting his voice. “Is Miss Tammy’s water coming up here?”

Esme’s eyes squeezed shut, and she forced a sob down. “I don’t know, mijo. But you don’t feel any, so that’s good, right?”

“Yeah…” Matty didn’t sound convinced. Esme wasn’t sure how she could comfort him amidst Tammy’s wrenching cries. But Esme couldn’t blame her. And she wouldn’t ask her to stop.

Isabella chose that moment to wake up. Her wails joined Tammy’s, and the cacophony echoed off of the jagged surfaces that surrounded them.

On hearing the melody of her daughter’s voice, Esme finally released her own sobs. Bella’s awake–she’s alive! Relief bloomed through her chest. Her body shook in time with haggard breaths that tugged at her injuries, but Esme barely felt it. 

“Mama?” Matty asked with concern.

“I’m okay, mi amor,” Esme gasped. “Solo estoy feliz.”

“Happy? Why?”

She hesitated. He didn’t need to know his mother wasn’t sure if Bella’s snooze had been a nap or a dangerous loss of consciousness.

“It’s…just good to hear her,” Esme croaked as she reined her emotions in. Matty crooned at his baby sister, and Isabella’s cries soon eased.

“Oh, God!” Tammy screamed into the comparative silence. “It’s on my stomach! My stomach is wet! Please help me! Somebody!” 

Esme’s middle constricted into a tight ball. Would they have to listen to her die in slow motion? Horror ate through her as she once again pictured the water rising over Bella’s round face…

“NO!” growled Esme into the ruined building surrounding her. She shut down the thought. They were going to get out. They had to. 

A drop fell on her cheek. Esme blinked, confused. A second droplet followed and rolled into the corner of her mouth. She caught it with her tongue but tasted no telltale saltiness of tears. This was fresh. Rain. 

Just then, Esme remembered the hurricane forecast. It can’t be here already. Dread settled deep into her core. Liquid death rose from below and now more fell from above. We’re all going to die.

Marcus wasn’t claustrophobic, but this compulsory adventure was testing his limit. Lying on his back, his feet dangled into an unseen space underneath him. He had tried to shimmy through the small opening, but his broad chest had gotten wedged. 

He took a deep breath. Then another. After the second inhale, Marcus realized full breaths came with ease, which gave him an idea. He pushed all the air out of his lungs. Emptied of breath, he raised his arms straight over his head and wriggled.

There! He had moved an inch. Marcus repeated his technique. This time, when he squirmed, he fell. 

“Oomph!” Marcus gasped as he landed hard on his tailbone. Thankfully, not on anything sharp. What had he fallen on? 

Marcus shifted in the dim light to take in his surroundings. He identified bent metal, broken concrete, and busted furniture. Had he toppled onto a cushion? He twisted to look and saw he was sitting on the torso of a man. Marcus scrambled to the side, heart pounding.

An experienced EMT, Marcus had seen his share of dead bodies. But this was something different. This man could’ve been him. Or his wife. What if this is all he would find of his children? 

Marcus wrenched to the side and vomited. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, shuddered a breath, and forced himself to look again. He had to make sure this guy was dead, but all he saw was a torso. His head and arms were buried. As he explored further, Marcus saw two feet sticking out of the rubble, a large white tennis shoe on each one. 

Fighting nausea, he crept forward and felt for the posterior tibial artery, behind the ankle. Nothing. He slipped off one sneaker and sock and tried to find a pedal pulse, on top of the foot. No dice. Finally, he rested his ear against the too-still chest but heard no heartbeat. 

Marcus regarded the discarded footwear for a moment with guilty determination. He held it up to his foot to check the size. Pretty close. Marcus slipped off the other shoe and sock, wanting to show respect for the deceased. 

He slipped them on his feet and murmured, “Thank you.”

The hole he had dropped from was above him to his right. Marcus studied his surroundings, and searched for another opening that would take him closer to his family. 

Sofia stood in a line that wove around the sand like a snake who stalked its prey. She crossed her arms and glared at the woman in front of her. 

“Well, I could’a toldja that buildin’ wasn’t stable,” she drawled, scratching a scrawny, too-tan arm with long, bright purple false nails. “How stable are these tall buildin’s on all this sand?”

“Mmhmm,” said a man much shorter than her, with a tract of hairless real estate that reached from his forehead almost to the nape of his neck.

“I mean, what are all those people doin’ in there, anyway?” Purple nails huffed. “I always stay in a beach house instead of a high-rise. They’re safer and more private.”

“Hmmhmm,” the short man mumbled.

A scarlet flush seeped through the skin of Sofia’s neck and cheeks as she restrained an angry outburst. Her mouth had opened despite herself when she heard a deep voice fly past her.

“What are you, an idiot?”

Sofia glanced back, eyebrows raised. The know-it-all in front remained deaf to the criticism. Her partner heard it, however, and his spine stiffened in response.

The speaker was tall, at least six feet. His thick, straight, sandy blonde hair hung in short curtains around a square jaw, stopping above his broad shoulders. He wore a plain olive-green t-shirt with cut-off sleeves and yellow and black checkered board shorts. Like most evacuees on the beach, he was barefoot. 

His dark brown eyes lit with amusement and he shrugged. Sofia smirked in return and faced forward again. 

“I mean, really, this hurricane will ruin our vacation, Ronnie,” the woman continued, oblivious. This time, her husband shot a nervous peek behind him without responding. 

“Won’t it, Ronnie?”

Ronnie let out a strangled sound that could have been agreement or a gargle.

“We’ve all got a bit more to worry about than ruined vacations,” Sofia’s new ally called out.

Finally noticing her opposition, Purple Nails pivoted to face Sofia. When she saw a teenage girl, confusion painted her expression.

“Shut up, okay?” the man behind Sofia said.

“Well, I…I…I just think–”

“Yeah, we all know what you just think. Everybody in this line probably knows your opinion. Someone near you might have lost people in that building, lady. Shut. Up.”

Her visage twisted and slackened alternately as she tried to patch together a good retort. When nothing came to her, she turned on Ronnie. “Aren’t you goin’ to say anything?”

Ronnie mumbled something only audible to his wife. Judging by the sudden bright red hue of her neck, she had been told once more to keep her mouth closed. A whispered argument ensued, with lots of purple-nailed jabbing and pointing. Sofia almost pitied Ronnie.

“I’m Jax.”

“Sofia,” she said, pivoting toward him.

“Can we request a different rescue bus?”

Sofia chuckled, but her mirth dissipated like the sun behind a fast-moving cloud. 

Jax noticed and asked softly, “You have people in there?” His hair bounced as he jerked his head toward the Paradise.

She nodded and picked at her cuticles. She’d always struggled to leave her hangnails alone. Jealousy drove her to quit, as she wanted the same beautifully manicured hands her friends had. But today she didn’t care. 

“You?” she asked.

“Nah. I come here to skim board. Nice, chill surf on this beach, usually. Not today, though,” he gestured toward the gathering storm. 

Sofia had noticed the sky getting darker. She’d already felt a few raindrops. Where were Mama and the babies? Where was Dad? Had he found a way in?

A cold, heavy blanket of loneliness settled onto Sofia. Jax put a warm hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. Sofia fought the urge to turn into this stranger’s chest and burst into pitiful tears. She stopped herself, but she let the muscular arm draped over her bring warm comfort.