“God, is it ever going to stop raining?” said Mike, then immediately regretted it.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Barrett muttered tightly as he navigated the stop-and-go traffic south to Blossom Hill.
Hey, you guys want to come over to my place tonight? Mike offered to his brothers, hoping a change of subject and scenery would help. We can watch a movie or something.
“Sounds good,” said Barrett. There was something comforting in knowing that Brian had heard and was about to answer, and even more comforting about the idea of watching a movie together with them on a rainy night.
Oh! Yes! And we can make caramel corn, and... Mystery Science Theater! Can we?
They both grinned at Brian’s enthusiastic reply. Sounds great, Mike sent back.
“Just let me grab a raincoat,” Barrett said, then grabbed two and handed one to his brother. They started north, and got all the way to Stockton before Mike spotted the oil spill.
ELEVEN
“Well shit. That’s not good.”
Barrett looked down at where Mike was pointing and saw what he was talking about: A weird dark stain on the delta water spreading from the middle of a levee and toward a new housing development.
“What is that?”
“Oil or something. But why would it be...”
A sudden gust of wind battered them sideways a bit, a high tide and storm surge washing hard against the area the stain was coming from. They recovered, trying to wipe the water out of their faces faster than it was hitting them. Barrett was keenly aware that there was water involved, but there was plenty of land around. Levees, housing tracts, islands... and he could fly out of trouble now. Maybe Mike was right and they could breathe underwater, or not need to breathe at all...
“BEAR.”
Barrett snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at his brother.
“What?”
“I said let’s go down and see where it’s coming from. If nothing else, we should call emergency services and let somebody know.”
“During a storm like this? They’ll all be too busy.”
“Can’t hurt to at least call it in.” Mike glided downward to see what was causing the problem, but stopped before his feet hit the ground. “Oh... this is bad.” Before Barrett could ask what the problem was, Mike was moving skyward again.
“Mike... what...?”
“I think the whole levee is failing. Look, see where the oil slick’s coming from? The water’s discolored from the soil underneath it. If you look closely, that spot is starting to go. It’s misshapen, see?”
Now that he knew what to look for, Barrett could see what his brother meant. The long earthen dam keeping the delta waters separated from the fill dirt the new neighborhood had been built on was starting to go. The pale fan shape of soil under the oil slick showed that water had already seeped through and compromised the structure of the levee, making the oil pipeline bow outward until it had finally failed. And the storm had no end in sight.
“But what can we do about it? It’s not like we can somehow wave a magic wand and have the dirt go back into place. This is for an agency to handle after the storm’s over, Mike.”
“It can’t wait for... oh no.”
As they watched, part of the berm slowly disappeared under the surface of the floodwaters, which eagerly took the opportunity to completely tear the weak section apart. The levee started disappearing like an enormous zipper being undone, more and more water freely flowing unhindered toward the new houses a few hundred yards to the east.
“I’ll call...” they said at the same time, then Mike held up a hand.
“I’ll check the houses, you call it in,” he said. Barrett nodded, already dialing 911 as Mike tucked back his wings and took a power dive toward the houses on the front line. Some were vacant, and some were obviously lived in but the owners weren’t home yet. Some, however, had the lights on, the occupants blissfully unaware that their houses were about to be inundated with several feet of muddy, oily, brackish delta water. Mike, realizing that there wasn’t time to knock on every door, tried something in the hopes it would work.
FLOOD. GET OUT AND HEAD EAST, he tried to broadcast to the entire neighborhood. To his surprise, and ignoring the grumble of protest from Barrett at the shouting in his head, people suddenly started looking out their windows and rushing out their front doors. Realizing that they’d be more of a distraction than a help, the brothers made sure they wouldn’t be seen, Mike overseeing the evacuation and Barrett still waiting for 911 to pick up.
What the hell, you guys? came Brian’s voice next. Flood? Where are you?
Somewhere near Stockton, Mike sent back. We could use help.
On the way. I can find you.
Mike smiled softly despite the emergency going on around him. It was reassuring that they were so tied together that they could just feel out where the others were somehow.
“Finally... look, there’s a levee that’s let go. There’s an oil pipeline too, and the whole thing is flooding a neighborhood...” Barrett said loudly into his phone over the noise of the wind and rain. He turned so it would hit him in the back, sheltering himself and the phone with his wings, but it didn’t help much. “Cross streets... hell, I don’t even know what town I’m in. Hold on.” He swooped low, trying to see street signs, but between the rain in his face and the wind throwing him sideways, all he could pick out was “Bayview” something.
What’s up? asked Mike, making sure people were continuing to get out, and growing more concerned about an older woman who seemed intent on rescuing things from her house.
Trying to get location info. Screw it. “Look, can you use the GPS in my phone? Yeah? Okay...” Barrett flew back up, right over the break, and made sure it was turned on and transmitting.
“Sir,” came the woman’s voice on the other end, “this shows you’re in the middle of the water.”
“I’m over... uh... that’s where the break is.” Wincing at his mistake, he started moving toward the first row of houses, hoping they would just come help and not question what he was saying.
“Where are you exactly?” The dispatcher sounded a little suspicious, and Barrett knew it was now or never, flying back out over where the levee had been, taking a photo and sending it to her.
“Look, can you see that? Just use the GPS location and get somebody the hell out here!” he barked into the phone, taking another photo of the rapidly flooding houses.
“Name please?”
Barrett blinked in disbelief. There was no way he was going to say who he was, and why did it matter?
“Sorry, you’re breaking up,” he lied, then cut the connection. Either they’d listen or they wouldn’t. The important thing now was getting people out. Then Brian zipped in, panting, having made impossible record time.
Was already in Sacramento waiting, he said, even his mental voice sounding a little out of breath. Before Barrett could say anything, his youngest brother zipped down invisibly to see if anyone was injured, Barrett following to help with the evacuation.
“What did the dispatcher say?” asked Mike, and Barrett explained what had happened. “Crap. I hope they come. We can call them again if nobody... oh wait, other people are.”
Relieved that others with cell phones were now making calls, they focused on making sure everyone was safe, then took off when the first fire truck arrived.
“There, that wasn’t so bad,” said Mike once they were back in the air. Barrett nodded, relief rolling off him in waves like the rain off his feathers.
“Yeah. I thought...” But a feeling made him stop in mid-sentence. They looked at each other. Something wasn’t right. Or, more accurately, multiple somethings.
“We’ll meet back at Mike’s place,” said Barrett, the other two nodding in complete understanding as the three of them took off in opposite directions into the darkening twilight. As before with the car accident in the mountains where Brian had first manifested, they could feel that they were needed out
there somewhere in the gloom. Resisting the call never crossed any of their minds for a moment.
Barrett headed west, reassured by the fact that he could still feel where his brothers were. If he needed them, all he had to do was give a mental shout, and they’d be there. And they couldn’t be hurt. Probably. As far as he knew.
Suddenly he saw a red flare arc up from the surface of the water. The red and green lights of the small boat marked its location, the red occasionally blinking out then back on again randomly. It was getting dark fast, partly from the intensity of the storm clouds that never seemed to end, but he thought he recognized the distinctive shape of Grizzly Bay below him. Without a thought, he dove toward the lights.
Men were aboard, shouting into the gloom, and Barrett quickly realized that someone had just fallen overboard into the murky, choppy waters. He could feel him, just under the surface, but he hesitated, the flashback of his near-drowning coming back to haunt him.
The urge growing stronger, Barrett found himself plunging into the cold bay, reaching blindly into the gut feeling in front of him. Nothing. A few handfuls of debris in the water gave him some false starts, but they turned out to be nothing more than plants, sticks and plastic bags. Still he fished around for something that felt like a person, moving deeper, growing more and more frantic, time running out.
He reached out with his mind as well as his hands and could feel that the man was still conscious, but only had a second or two of air left in his lungs before he involuntarily released it. Barrett knew he was close, and dove deeper still, toward the feeling in the darkness. Suddenly their hands met. Barrett grabbed hold tight and hauled the man toward the surface, then flung him up in a crack-the-whip motion, intent on getting him out of the water as fast as possible.
Once the other man was gone, presumably either landing on the boat or quickly fished out by his fellows, Barrett made the mistake of looking up toward the end of the day’s light and the rocking lights of the boat. Panic set in immediately as the flashback of that summer day so long ago flooded his senses all over again. Moments before, he’d been remarkably unconcerned with breathing, but now it was all he could think about as he seemed to sink lower into the dark unknown waters of the bay.
Mentally crying out for help in his terror, he floundered, losing all sense of direction, sure that he would drown at any second. Debris wrapped around his hands and ankles and felt like a sea monster determined to drag him down as his sight dimmed. Suddenly his brothers were nearby.
Breathe.
He wasn’t sure who had said it, he thought perhaps Mike. Or maybe it was Brian, or maybe they’d both said it at the same time. But it didn’t matter who it was. Everything his human mind screamed was the polar opposite – hold your breath, look for the surface, get out of the water. But something new inside him said it would be all right, if he just had the courage to follow his gut.
Barrett took a breath.
To his amazement, it just felt like thick, cold air with a little grit mixed in. Focused on the strange new sensation, he forgot to panic, forgot that he was supposed to be drowning, forgot that summer day long ago.
Then his brothers’ hands were on him, lifting him up out of the darkness and back into the driving rain and battering wind. He almost regretted being pulled out – it was so much calmer under the surface. He went to speak and found he couldn’t, then realized it was the water filling his lungs preventing it. After a long, purposeful exhalation and a little coughing, he looked up at them, eyes still wide.
How did you get here so fast?
Mike chuckled, thinking his brother’s first words would be about what he’d just done, not how fast he and Brian had come to his rescue.
“Dunno,” said Brian. “We just kind of... showed up.”
“Showed up?” Barrett said, then coughed up more water.
“Felt you panicking and calling for us,” added Mike. “Wasn’t coordinated, we both just kind of... yeah,” he said, nodding at Brian. “Showed up here.”
“We needed to be here, so here we are, I guess.”
Barrett nodded slowly, considering this. It did make a certain amount of sense, since angels in literature were known for just appearing out of thin air wherever they were needed. He attempted to shake out his waterlogged feathers to no avail, then looked at Mike.
“Let’s go to your place,” he said quietly, then closed his eyes. After a moment he disappeared, leaving his brothers grasping at air and staring at each other for a while, stunned.
“Do you think he...?” breathed Brian finally.
A slow curious smile started on Mike’s face, then he concentrated and disappeared as well, showing up soaking wet in his own apartment. Barrett was already there, having just hung up his dripping raincoat in the bathroom.
“Glad you made it,” he said to his middle brother, then nodded over at Brian when he appeared shortly after. Mike still had the funny little smile on his face, but his brain was also still trying to catch up. Between the instantaneous change in scenery, from a battering storm to the peace of his apartment, and the implications of what they’d just done, his mind reeled a bit.
“You guys...!” Brian started to exclaim, but couldn’t get anything else out but an excited whoop. Mike snorted a laugh, his smile moving up into an outright grin.
“Well. This should make things a bit easier,” said Barrett, who couldn’t resist a little smirking smile of his own. “I’m going to put on some dry clothes. Be right back.” And with that, he vanished again. Brian blinked at the space that had formerly been occupied by his oldest brother, then fell into a giggling pile on the sofa.
Barrett arrived in his condo, still soaking wet. The incessant rain rattled against the windows like a thousand bony fingers trying to get in. His feet squished in his wingtip shoes, which were probably ruined, the leather sofa whining in protest as he sat down to unlace them. Other than the rain on the glass, the silence was deafening.
Without his brothers, he felt only half alive, the condo feeling more like a tomb than a home. His soft, pearl-gray wings seemed completely out of place and unwelcome. The dark wood, sharp angles, and cold metal accents seemed to leer and jab at his senses, mocking. He changed quickly into something dry, throwing on jeans and a dark green henley, and grabbed a pair of slippers. He looked around the condo one last time, then returned to Mike’s place.
“...and then she was running from this duck!” Brian and Mike were both laughing over the end of a story Brian was telling, the warm voices and softer furnishings and glow of the well-lit rooms making him never want to leave again. Even the rain seemed further away, the storm’s back edge sweeping past Sacramento at last, wind and water quieting there while still raging in San Jose.
“Oh, hey Bear,” Mike said when he realized his brother was back. Barrett couldn’t help but smile back, the contrast between where he’d been, and where he was now, distinct.
“I think I’ll pop over to my place and do the same thing. And I’ll see how the roof is doing,” said Brian, disappearing, returning barefoot in pajamas a few minutes later.
“So we’re not going out again?” asked Mike, moving toward his own closet.
“I didn’t figure,” said Barrett. “I’ve had enough fun for one evening, thanks. Still coughing up mud. And I don’t feel like we need to.”
“Hey, you’re right,” said Brian. “That urge is gone.”
“I think we did what we were supposed to do,” called Mike from the bedroom. Barrett nodded and went into the kitchen to make tea. Brian put his feet up on the edge of the coffee table and listened to the rain dying away and the movements of his brothers. Things seemed to fall into a natural, peaceful state all on their own, like they’d always been that way.
Mike returned in pajama bottoms, wings neatly tucked behind him. Barrett came back with a tray containing three mugs of hot water, sugar, cream, and a bowl full of assorted tea packets. They sat together quietly on the sofa and made tea together, nothing needing to be s
aid for a time. At last Barrett spoke up.
“I don’t want to go back,” he said softly. They looked up at him, curious what he meant. He continued to stare into his mug
“Back?” asked Mike.
“To the condo.”
Mike scratched his head. “So... don’t? It’s only a little after eight.”
“No,” said Barrett. “I don’t mean right now. I mean... at all. Ever.”
Silence fell over them. They all felt the same way, and had struggled nightly with the growing need they all felt to be close to each other. A pull, like being caught in the gravity of the other two. Being apart was wrong somehow, and they were beginning to realize that being together also increased their power. The sum more than the parts.
“Campout,” stated Mike.
Brian looked between them. “Tonight? Here?”
“Sure. I’ve got this giant king bed, thanks to Bear,” he said with a little chuckle, looking up over the rim of his mug at his older brother. Barrett smiled back a little.
“That solves tonight,” he said, “but what about tomorrow? And the next day? And five years from now? And...” He stopped and thought for a second. If they were angels, were they...?
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” said Brian quietly, pulling Barrett back out of his train of thought somewhat. “Every night... we’re fighting this every night, and we can’t keep doing this forever.”
Mike nodded slowly. “So are you guys saying...?”
“Permanent campout,” said Brian. “Shacking up.”
Barrett’s gaze flicked over to his younger brother. “I wish you wouldn’t put it like that,” he said, frowning into his mug.
“It just means living together,” said Brian with a smirk.
“Yeah, but coming from you...”
Brian laughed. “Okay, okay. Cohabitating. Is that better? It’s a lot less fun to say, that’s for sure.”
“Something like that,” said Mike. “So... wow. Getting to be together all the time.”
Triune Page 17