Now unimpeded by cloud cover, the gleaming sun threw waves of late-summer heat down to the still waters in the streets below. Sea birds explored further inland, drawn by the floods. The air buzzed, and clouds of mosquitoes searched for their next meal.

Fitz lifted a flat hand to his brow and squinted at the horizon.

“Any sign of dry land?” Marcus asked. Drops of sweat rolled over his warm, sticky skin.

The firefighter shook his head no, then jabbed his oar straight downward.

“Looks to be about 3 feet deep here,” he said. “We’re getting shallower.”

“Esme? You with us?” Marcus asked.

His wife groaned in answer.

“Matty?”

The small boy rubbed his face. “What?”

“You doin’ okay?”

Matty shrugged. Thirty minutes earlier, Isabella dissolved into a screaming, hunger-fueled tantrum. She had since fallen into a fitful sleep, echoes of sobs occasionally shaking her slight frame.

“How much longer, Dad?”

Marcus glanced toward Fitz, who answered, “Well, kiddo, if I drove from here, we could arrive at the stadium in about 10 minutes. But I’ve never gone there by boat before.”

Brick buildings lined the street-turned-canal, providing occasional shade. They floated by a nail salon, a dentist’s practice, and an auto insurance office.

“Wouldn’t want to be in that business this week,” Marcus joked, pointing to the storefront.

Fitz chuckled. “What a crock. I–”

An ear-splitting CRACK sounded through the muggy air, and the men jumped.

“What on earth?” Marcus asked.

Frowning, Fitz’s eyes darted from side to side, tense.

Another sharp pop hit them. This time, Fitz and Marcus saw the source. The traffic light ahead of them sagged and bounced. The 20-foot wooden pole holding it cracked at the base an inch above the waterline.

“What’s happening?” Esme asked hoarsely.

“Will it hold?” Marcus said to Fitz.

“Not sure. Doesn’t look like it.”

“Should we slow down or speed up?”

Fitz stared at the failing column of wood, calculating, every muscle tense.

“What. Is. Going. On?” Esme demanded, louder.

Marcus ignored her and focused on his own mental estimations as their kayaks drifted toward the intersection.

“Let’s paddle past it,” Marcus said after a few seconds. In response, Fitz dipped his oar and pulled back, his arm and shoulder muscles straining.

The makeshift boat lurched forward as both oars churned. But, after only a few seconds, a splintering crackle announced they were too late. Marcus and Fitz watched in horror as the metal traffic light support fell in their direction.

It landed hard on the kayak’s front. The rear of the raft flew upward, flinging everyone but Esme into the air and down into the turbid water.

***

Sofia rolled the stem of an artificial flower between her fingers as she slouched in the wicker display chair. The thin cloth petals frayed at the edges, and the green floral tape stuck to her skin.

“How long are we staying here?” she asked.

Jeanie raised her eyebrows. “Why should I know? I ain’t in charge.”

Sofia snorted. “You bossed me all the way in here. Now you don’t want to decide?”

“I made a fantastic suggestion, is all,” she smirked. “It’s not my fault if you wanted to follow me.”

The teenage girl rolled her eyes and sunk further into the stiff cushions.

“But, if it were up to me,” Jeanie continued, “I’d say we may as well wait here a bit longer.”

Sofia tossed the false bloom over her shoulder and eyed Jeanie. “So, you used to rescue battered women?”

“I was no Rambo…but I talked to them, sure.”

“Who saved them, then?”

“Nobody, hun. They had to save themselves.”

Sofia frowned. “Sometimes people need help.”

“Oh, yeah, they do,” Jeanie murmured. “But guys who beat their ladies usually don’t just hit them.”

“What do you mean?”

“They gaslight them over months and years. Even decades.”

“I still—”

“–Their men make them feel like they deserve it; they’re worthless and lucky to have them. And, believe me, those fellas can turn on the charm when they want to.”

“I could never stay with a guy who did that to me.”

Jeanie nodded. “I get that. But many of these girls didn’t have parents who taught them their worth. And a lot of abusers don’t let their victims work, which seems okay at first, but then they realize they can’t find a job, can’t be financially independent…they’re good and screwed.”

“That’s terrible.”

“And I’ve seen it happen to other gals, too — ones that grew up with decent families. But when you think you’re in love, it’s easy to throw away your life.”

Sofia silently gazed at the store’s far wall for a few minutes, then said, “Not me.”

***

The raft slammed down and Esme, who was tied to the middle, howled in pain.

Marcus found his feet and stood in the waist-deep water, wiping at tears.

“Matty! Bella!” he screamed.

Esme’s wails cut through him, and a sudden sob escaped his mouth. Fitz surfaced with a splash.

A gurgling sound came from his left as Bella’s life jacket spun around her, freeing her face above the surface. Marcus waded to his daughter and lifted her into his arms. Her eyes were wide with panic, and seawater dribbled from her lips. Marcus repositioned the toddler on her side and slapped her back. After ten tense seconds, Bella barked a violent coughed and let loose a shrill shriek that relieved her father.

He pulled her to his chest and clutched her tight before realizing he hadn’t heard Matty. Marcus spun until he spotted Fitz, who held his son in his arms. Matty lay limp, his limbs flopping with every step.

Sobs renewed; Marcus got to the boats and handed Bella over to Esme, who continued to bellow through her agony but grabbed for her baby girl, anyway.

“Is he…?” Marcus’s voice broke before he could finish the sentence.

“He’s breathing. Heart rate’s good,” Fitz answered.

The older man gestured for Marcus to climb up on the kayak. Once he did, Fitz gently handed the boy up to him.

“Matty’s alive,” Fitz repeated. “Just one too many kicks to the pants, I think.”

Gentle laughter pushed through the father’s tears.

“He still needs help–double-time,” Fitz said.

Marcus nodded, looked up, and froze. His already thumping heart ratcheted up to a breakneck pace at what he saw. “Get on the raft,” he urged. “Now.”

Fitz spun and spotted a flat reptilian head a few yards away.

“COME ON!” Marcus yelled and stretched his free hand to the man who had saved them all more than once.

The burly firefighter gripped the oar ring and hauled his torso onto the fiberglass. He lifted one knee, but before he could raise the other, two sets of sharp teeth clamped around his calf and yanked him underwater.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero