We all exchange anxious glances.
“I’ll stay,” Zoe speaks up after a second, bending down to soothe Sneakers. “Humidity does terrible things to my hair anyway,” she jokes nervously.
We all hurry back into the clinic and put on our raincoats. Mine’s still a little wet from this morning. David opens the door. Outside, the sky looks worse than ever. There are puddles everywhere, as well as tree limbs and all sorts of debris. By the time we’ve gone half a block, the rain finds its way into my shoes and down the back of my neck.
The wind is still blowing, and a siren is blaring somewhere nearby. We don’t talk much. The Jermaines’ house is only about four blocks away, on the corner of Franklin and Willow streets.
We struggle against the wind down the first block, then the second. But we keep moving. An animal needs our help, and that’s the only thing on my mind. I know my friends feel the same way.
Before long we’re turning on to Franklin. The Jermaines live on a block lined with nice colonial homes that have backyards overlooking the old section of town. I hear barking in the distance. As we get closer to the Jermaines’ green-and-white house at the end of the block, the barking grows louder, along with a sound of rattling metal. It’s coming from behind the house.
“That’s Stormy!” David says. “His kennel must be around back.”
We run around the side of the house. Suddenly Brenna stops in front of us.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Then I look past her and gasp in horror. The whole backyard is flooded under two feet of water—including Stormy’s kennel!
Chapter Eight
Stormy is hysterical with fear—he keeps bounding up onto the top of the doghouse, then slipping off and splashing down into the water. Each time, he leaps straight up as if the water is burning hot, then races forward and rebounds off the wire kennel door. Then it’s back to the doghouse roof again. His ears are plastered back against his head, and his expression is panicky. His barking sounds hoarse, like he’s been doing it for a long time.
Maggie hurries us forward. “We’ve got to get him out of there! He’s freaking out—he’s going to hurt himself, if he hasn’t already.”
Behind the house, the ground slopes down, then levels off again where Stormy’s kennel is. The doghouse is an island surrounded by muddy water. We march right up to the kennel, with the water lapping at our knees.
“How are we going to get him back to the clinic?” I ask. “We don’t have a leash.”
“There’s one.” David points to a nylon leash hanging on a hook near the kennel door.
“Good eye!” Brenna shouts above Stormy’s barking. “Who’s going to be the brave one?”
Okay, Sunita. Don’t think—just go.
I grab the leash from the kennel wall. Maggie is shouting something behind me, but I tune her out.
I flip the latch on the kennel door, fling it open, and barge inside. “Good dog,” I say breathlessly, trying to make my voice calm and soothing, just like it was when I was comforting Lucy yesterday at the clinic. “It’s all right, sweetie.”
Stormy’s barking drowns out my voice. I don’t think he even sees me standing there. He’s on top of the doghouse again, his claws scrabbling for a foothold on the rain-slick surface. He starts to slide off and jumps instead, splashing into two feet of muddy water on the ground.
“Calm down, Stormy, okay?” I plead, my hand clutching the leash. “I want to help you.”
Stormy pushes off the side of his kennel, rebounding off the chain-link fence like a trampoline. I flinch when I see him coming straight at me. Oh, no!
“Move!” Maggie shouts. She’s so close that I feel her breath on my face. She grabs the leash and pushes me toward the door. I stumble on the threshold and fall to my knees outside, splashing into the water. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Maggie standing just inside the door, looking very small beside Stormy, who has missed running into her but is still bouncing around the wire pen like crazy. How is she ever going to calm him down and get him to safety?
Maggie claps her hands and lets out a sharp whistle. Startled, Stormy freezes and looks toward her.
“Sit!” Maggie thunders, her voice louder and deeper than I’ve ever heard it.
The dog responds instantly, dropping onto his haunches right there in the water. He looks surprised and uncertain. Maggie doesn’t give him a chance to figure out what’s going on. She darts forward and quickly snaps the leash onto his collar. As soon as she does, Stormy seems to sort of go limp. His tense muscles relax, and his ears return to their normal position. In a matter of seconds, Maggie’s leading him out of the kennel.
“Wow!” Brenna yells with admiration. Stormy doesn’t look too happy about sloshing through the water, but he’s walking meekly at Maggie’s side. “That was awesome! How did you know he would listen to you?”
“I didn’t,” Maggie admits. “But I know he’s well trained, so I gave it my best shot.”
“Pretty good shooting. Or should I say shouting?” David says with a grin. He pats Stormy. “And pretty good dog.”
I climb to my feet, feeling embarrassed. What was I thinking? I should have let Maggie handle it from the start.
No one says anything about my mishap, though. Brenna pushes back her brown hair, which is dripping into her eyes. “Come on,” she says. “We’d better get out of here before we all float away.”
We make our way toward the front of the house with Maggie and Stormy in the lead. This time we have to step around one end of the canoe that was on top of the Jermaines’ van yesterday. They must have left it in the backyard, but it’s floating now. Finally we’re on dry ground again.
That’s a relief. All that water was making me really nervous.
We head for the corner and stop to catch our breath. I can’t help but look over my shoulder and down the hill at the old part of town and Willow Street.
Oh, no! Willow Street is underwater! Just a short distance away, the street slopes down and completely disappears. A block farther, the mailboxes are barely visible above the water. And by the middle of that block, the water is almost up to the second floor of the houses. Through the drizzle, I can barely see Mrs. Clark’s house at the far end—there are a couple of large trees in the way—but it must be more than half submerged. Lucy...
“Do you think they’ve evacuated everyone already?” Maggie asks.
“Look!” Brenna cries, cutting her off.
In the distance, I see a motorboat chugging toward us. As it gets closer, I see who’s inside—two men in bright yellow slickers and a small white-haired woman wrapped in a plaid raincoat.
“Mrs. Clark!” I cry.
At that moment, Mrs. Clark spots us. “Help!” she cries, waving her hands at us. “My poor Lucy!”
Maggie, David, and I run toward the boat, splashing down the hill until we’re knee-deep in water.
“Guys! Don’t go out too far!” warns Brenna, who stays back with Stormy.
“Are you okay?” I yell over the sounds of the wind and the boat’s motor. “Where’s Lucy?”
“She’s still in the house!” Mrs. Clark calls back. “She was frightened by the men and the boat. She ran and hid in the attic. They insisted I leave her.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” one of the rescue workers says. “We couldn’t spend any more time. The water’s rising quickly, and we need to get you to the emergency shelter, which is where you kids should be—under shelter.”
I open my mouth to protest—to tell them about Lucy’s broken leg, her diabetes—but the rescue workers are already steering the boat toward the next street. Mrs. Clark shouts about Lucy, but her words are drowned out by the sounds of the boat’s motor.
I stare down the hill. I remember how those flooded houses looked on TV. And the flooded stable. What if it was Mittens? It all makes me feel so scared and helpless that I have to clench my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.
Then I remember how Lucy meowed at me this mor
ning, bumping her head against my hand when I bent to pet her. And I know what I have to do.
Chapter Nine
We’ve got to save her,” I tell Maggie and David as we turn and walk back to Brenna and Stormy.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” David says. “How are we supposed to do that? Build an ark?”
I frown. “This is no time for jokes. Come on, we need a plan.”
Maggie shoots a worried glance down the street. “I don’t know, Sunita,” she says. “I mean, I want to help Lucy, too. But—”
“No buts,” I interrupt firmly. “Lucy needs us. We’re the only ones who can help her. We’ve got to do it.”
Just then another big gust of wind sweeps by, blowing away any words my friends might have tried to say. We all hold on to our hoods as Stormy lets out a brief howl.
“Whew!” David says when he can speak again. “Felix doesn’t know when to let up.”
“Yeah,” Brenna says. “For a minute there, Stormy sounded like Sherlock.”
Maggie nods. “I’m glad Sherlock is safe and sound at home,” she says. “Or I would be . . . ” Her voice trails off, and she looks at me. “Oh,” she says. “You know, Sunita, you’re right. If it was one of our pets in trouble, we’d do everything we could to help. Why should it be any different for Lucy? Gran never turns her back on an animal in trouble.”
“Yeah,” Brenna agrees slowly, glancing down the block toward Mrs. Clark’s house. “And neither can we.”
“Okay, I guess I’m in, too,” David says with a shrug. I wonder if he’s thinking about that terrified horse. “So what’s our plan?”
I smile with relief. I couldn’t have tried this alone. Daddy always says there’s safety in numbers. “I guess we should go closer and see how it looks. Maybe we’ll think of something then.”
“I’ll take Stormy back to the clinic,” Brenna speaks up. “He’ll just be in the way.”
I’m glad she volunteered. I don’t think I could stand to go back to the clinic without knowing whether Lucy was safe.
Brenna tugs on Stormy’s leash. The big dog’s tail is still between his legs, but he’s not whining anymore. In fact, he looks a little braver now that he’s away from his kennel and the standing water.
“Good luck,” Brenna says. “I’ll tell Dr. Mac what’s going on if she’s back. Maybe she can send help.” With a quick wave, she hurries off toward the clinic, chattering cheerfully to Stormy as she goes.
“Now what?” Maggie asks, glancing at me.
I realize that she and David are counting on me to come up with a plan. I stare at the flooded street, trying to figure out what to do now. How do we get to Mrs. Clark’s house? The road slopes down so steeply that most of it is totally underwater. The lower half of the block where Mrs. Clark’s house is looks like the street on Oakwood that we saw on TV—just roofs.
“The river and the creeks must have overflowed their banks and mixed with the rain,” Maggie says. “This street is probably the lowest point in town.”
David shakes his head. “That area over by the park is lower than this.”
“Maybe,” Maggie agrees. “I forgot about that.”
I can’t believe they’re standing around debating where the flooding is worse. The only important thing is what we’re going to do about it. “You guys—Lucy!” I remind them. “We have to rescue her!”
Maggie glances at the half-submerged houses. “Um, okay,” she says slowly. “But I’m still not sure how. Mrs. Clark’s house is probably in seven to eight feet of water.”
“Can we swim over?” David suggests.
I gulp. I can feel my face start to turn red.
Before I can speak, Maggie shakes her head. “It’s not safe,” she says. “It’s pretty far—and there’s no telling what kind of stuff is in the water. You could swim right into a mailbox without even knowing it’s there.”
I can’t help feeling relieved. “Maybe if we go around the back . . . ” I begin.
“Uh-uh.” David shakes his head. “I’ve been back there behind those houses. There’s sort of a canyon—it’ll be even deeper back there.”
I bite my lip. We have to act fast. It’s pouring again, and the waters are rising quickly. If we don’t rescue Lucy soon, the whole house will be underwater. There’s no way she can save herself. “There has to be a way,” I say, feeling a little desperate.
Maggie sighs, staring out across the water. “Maybe we should go back to the clinic,” she suggests uncertainly. “Gran or Dr. Gabe must be back by now. They’ll know what to do to help Lucy.”
“Sounds good to me,” David agrees. “There’s no sense hanging around here any longer. Because the only way we could possibly reach Lucy now is in a—”
“Canoe!” I shout.
“That’s it! The Jermaines have a canoe in their yard,” David adds.
“What are we waiting for?” Maggie yells.
“Now you two will be able to prove who’s a better canoer,” I say, running back up the hill toward the Jermaines’ house.
The canoe is right where I remember. It’s a lot heavier than it looks, though.
“Maybe we should dump out these life jackets,” David says.
“No!” I say a little too quickly. Maggie and David blink at me in surprise. “Um, I mean, let’s put them on. Better safe than sorry.”
The others shrug and do as I suggest. I strap my vest on carefully. It makes me feel braver—a little bit, at least.
We turn the canoe upside down and rest the yoke on our shoulders. We can move it only a few feet at a time, even with all three of us carrying it. Soon my shoulder muscles are aching, and my hands are numb from gripping the edge of the canoe. The half block to the water’s edge seems more like a mile.
Finally the water starts splashing over our shoes. We lower the canoe to the ground and shove it through the shallow part of the floodwaters until it starts to float. David grabs the line tied to the front end and holds it steady as Maggie clambers aboard.
I still can’t stop worrying about Lucy. I hope she’s not trying to escape. With her broken leg, she won’t be able to swim very far. Besides that, she needs her insulin injections to control her diabetes.
“Go ahead, Sunita,” David says. “I’ll hold it while you get in.”
I look at the canoe. It bobs in the little waves the wind is making in the water. Then I stare down at the muddy water, feeling queasy and scared. “Um, maybe one of us should stay here,” I say. “That way I can run for help if you guys get into any trouble.”
David blinks at me in surprise. “What?” he says. “But the canoe’s plenty big enough for three people.”
“Yeah, but you guys are the great canoers, remember?” I add. “Now go ahead! Lucy’s waiting for you.”
“Okay, okay,” David says, splashing out and vaulting into the canoe. He picks up the second paddle, and soon he and Maggie have the long, slim boat moving away from me.
I collapse against a blue mailbox on the wet sidewalk, watching them go. They’re shouting to each other—I can hear them over the water. But the words don’t really sink in. I picture Lucy alone in her house, scared and confused.
The rain is coming down so hard now that I lose sight of the canoe after just a few minutes. I can barely make out the outline of Mrs. Clark’s house. I peer toward it, wondering what’s happening.
After what seems to be the longest fifteen minutes of my life, I finally make out the shape of the canoe returning. Crossing my fingers, I wait for it to get closer.
“Did you get her?” I call when Maggie and David are finally in shouting range.
They don’t answer. They’re paddling hard, and I can see that their expressions are grim. And I don’t see a blue-eyed Siamese anywhere.
My heart drops like a stone.
Chapter Ten
I don’t even realize that I’ve waded out into the flooded area until I feel the water lapping at my knees. I grab the rope David tosses to me and help pull the canoe up in
to the shallow water. “What happened?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“We saw her,” Maggie says breathlessly, wiping water out of her eyes. She’s soaked! “Lucy was sitting by the attic window meowing her head off. But we couldn’t get close enough to it in the boat—there are these big trees in the way.”
David nods. “Maggie swam over to the window and tried to get her,” he adds. “But Lucy ran away and hid when Maggie opened the window and tried to grab her.”
“I climbed into the attic through the window,” Maggie says. “But I couldn’t find her. And she wouldn’t come when I called.”
“Oh, no,” I whisper. “Now what are we going to do?”
There’s only one answer. I gulp as I realize it.
“We have to try again,” I say, trying to sound brave enough though my knees are shaking and my guts are quivering. “This time I’ll come along. Lucy knows me—I’m sure I can coax her out if anyone can.”
Maggie nods and exchanges a glance with David. “That’s what we thought, too.”
They don’t say it, but I can tell they’re wishing I’d just come along in the first place. I can’t explain to them why I couldn’t—I don’t want to admit the truth. What would they think if they knew? I’m just glad they’re willing to go out and try again, even though they’re probably even colder and wetter and more exhausted than I am.
Taking a deep breath, I wade over to the canoe and climb in. David and Maggie push the boat out with their paddles, and I hold my breath as it starts to float. I’ve been on boats before, but this is different. It’s a lot smaller, for one thing. The water looks awfully close—especially since an inch or so of water is sloshing around in the bottom of the canoe. I’m not sure if it’s from the rain that’s still falling steadily or from water splashing over the sides. Either way, I’m glad I’m still wearing my bright orange life vest.
“Let’s go,” Maggie says, digging in deeply with her paddle.
Storm Rescue Page 5