by Ariel Bonin
"All right, settle! Take your seats—"
A commotion in the hallway drew her attention and she stuck her head out to investigate. Tyler, dressed in full bright yellow rain gear, was dismissing Elizabeth's Intermediate math class.
"What's going on?" she asked as he approached her. Moisture dripped from his hood, forming a puddle on the linoleum-tiled floor.
"I have been tracking wind speeds and levels of precipitation over the past twelve hours. From my calculations, we are directly in the path of a powerful tropical storm and are recommending that everyone take cover in the island's bunker until it is over."
Lindsey held up a slender hand. "Woah, first of all, the island has a bunker? And second, how can you tell it's a tropical storm? What if it's actually a hurricane or, I don't know, just rain?"
Tyler cleared his throat and Lindsey realized she'd asked too many questions.
"As you know, New Canaan was a military base. Naturally, they would be required to have a bunker in the event of an airborne attack. It is located beneath the clinic and can hold approximately two hundred people. To answer your second question, the wind speeds have steadily increased—quite drastically in the past hour in fact—thus the general ordered an evacuation. I would not classify this storm as a hurricane. The season officially ended last week; a storm of that intensity is highly unlikely."
Lindsey smirked and gave Tyler a nod. "Thank you, for that…" She turned to her students, who were openly eavesdropping on her conversation. "Everyone, get your things together. If you could follow Mr. Johnson in an orderly fashion, that would be much appreciated."
Zoey leaped up from her seat and swung her bag onto her back. She jogged over to the doorway and sounded out of breath, but Lindsey knew it wasn't from the brief physical action.
"What about my dad and Jake?" she asked as fear highlighted her ice-blue eyes.
Lindsey laid a supportive hand on her shoulder, experiencing the same panic but not wanting to show it. "Stay with me. We'll get Jake from daycare and then meet everyone else in the bunker. I'm sure they've set up some kind of radio communication with the fishing boats. Who knows? Maybe your dad's already there."
She wasn't going to hold her breath. The girl nodded anyway, apparently satisfied with her answer. They hurried down the darkening corridor and arrived at the daycare. Lindsey shouldered Jacob's diaper bag as the caretaker handed her the infant. Jake was unusually cranky but she chalked it up to the unpleasant weather. Zoey agreed to lead the way, first stopping at the exit to help Lindsey wrap him in the woman's over-sized rain coat.
When Jacob was safe within the water-repellent confines, his tiny form burrowed into Lindsey's bosom, Zoey pushed open the door and they rushed out into the storm.
_____
Shit.
That word was presently on repeat within Andrew's head, along with: stupid, why and dammit. The latter three didn't help much, but the first felt like it did. It wasn't going to get them out of their current predicament, though. Monster waves—of what height, Andrew couldn't be sure—tossed the fishing boat around like a rubber ducky during one of Jacob's baths. His clothes were completely soaked and clung to him like a second skin. The tropical water had turned cold. Between that and the rain, Andrew didn't think he'd ever shivered this hard.
Another wave swept over the cramped boat deck, displacing buoys and other loose gear. Charlie fought to bring in their last net, the man just as drenched as him. He practically slid across the deck to get to his struggling friend. Andrew's biceps felt ready to burst as he helped get their final catch on board. He'd just secured the net to the deck when the boat shifted violently. Andrew fell into Charlie, slamming both men into the wheelhouse.
Andrew moved enough to keep from crushing Charlie and yelled, "You all right?"
Crimson sprung from the other man's brow, bleeding into the water on his face to create a pinkish liquid. "Fine! You?"
"I'm good! We need to get the hell outta this!"
"No shit!" Charlie shouted. He turned to their active captain, the former state trooper. "Ya get anyone on the radio yet?"
"No! That last wave must've fried it! It's dead!"
Charlie let out a distinct growl. "Can we get this thing movin'?"
"I'm tryin'!" the man responded. He clutched the wheel and turned it as far as it would go. The boat swung around, due west, which was the direction back to the island. Andrew and Charlie held onto whatever they could reach and looked again at the deck.
"Shit! Where's Greg?" Charlie hollered as he blinked back ocean spray and blood from his dripping eyebrows.
Greg was the injured man Brian had covered for the previous week. His red coat had stood out all day but, now, was gone. Andrew gripped a rope along the boat's outer edge, slowly making his way to the stern. Turning his head three hundred and sixty degrees, he saw no sign of red, just miles and miles of gray.
With a forlorn grimace, he thought, the radio isn't the only thing that's dead.
_____
Lindsey followed Zoey to the clinic, keeping Jacob nestled close the entire way. Rain came down harder now, their visibility drastically diminished. Leaves flew about the air and attached themselves to her slick coat. The wind was so powerful that it drove the woman and children right into the clinic. Brian was waiting just inside the entrance with a clipboard.
"Brian! Is Andrew here yet?" she asked in desperation.
He shook his head with a frown. "We lost radio contact with their boat a few minutes ago. They were trying to come back in, but the storm was proving to be more of a challenge than they anticipated."
Lindsey simply stared at the dark-haired man as she screamed on the inside. How could he just stand here like this, like she was just supposed to accept it? Oh, your husband is probably dead, but there's nothing we can do. Hopefully we'll find his body on the beach later instead of wondering about his fate for the rest of our miserable lives!
Feeling a rush of perseverance—or maybe stubbornness—Lindsey opened her coat and handed Jacob to Zoey. She placed the infant's bag on Zoey's shoulder and re-buttoned the slippery fabric, pulling the hood over her head.
"Take care of your brother. I'll be right back," she said to the confused girl.
"What the hell are you doing, Lindsey?" Brian interjected, snatching her arm. "You can't go out there!"
She pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Watch me."
_____
Outside, Lindsey jogged away from the clinic, the squishing noise beneath her feet scarcely audible over the whistling squalls of wind. Someone called out to her and she moved faster. She heard her name again, recognized the voice and stopped. Ana appeared next to the blonde, her short braids sticking out from under her own hood.
"Need some help?" the woman asked.
The moment was reminiscent of when they'd taken on the school evacuation together. Lindsey hoped this would go over better but doubted it. "I would love some…thank you." It was great to not have someone fight her on this.
"Let's go then," Ana replied with a look of determination.
They took the quickest trail to the dock. Fallen branches impeded their path, but all could either be climbed over or pushed away. They reached the water within minutes and Lindsey couldn't believe her eyes. She'd never seen the ocean look like this—only in movies. Angry waves crashed into the rocky section of shoreline, spraying the two women with foam.
"Do you see them?" Lindsey called out. The roar of the ocean was positively deafening.
"No… Wait!"
Ana pointed at something on their right and Lindsey squinted to see what it was. The outline of a boat formed amongst the waves and she gasped.
"That's gotta be them!"
She then watched helplessly as the boat drifted towards the dock. A wave picked it up and pitched it downward, crashing the hull straight into the wide plank. Wooden boards splintered and cracked on impact, dropping a section of dock directly into the violent water. Lindsey thought she could see human shapes
jump for the part that still remained and she took off into a sprint.
"Come on!" she yelled to Ana, but the woman was already right behind her.
They were almost there when a wave hit close by, sending a surge of murky water up and over the bank. An unknown object slammed into Lindsey's feet, knocking her off balance and into the water. She grabbed for anything within reach, but only got handfuls of seaweed and palm fronds. Saltwater rushed up her nose and burned the back of her throat. Finally, she felt rocky ground under her hands, the sharp edges cutting into her palms. At the same time, something heaved her upward. She choked and sputtered as her blurred gaze came to rest on Ana.
"Lindsey, are you okay?" the woman asked, continuing to hold her upright.
"I'm fine." She coughed violently and sagged against Ana. "Really, I'm okay!"
"Can you walk?"
Lindsey found her footing and stepped back. "Yeah. We need to keep moving!"
The two women began their mission again, this time staying closer to the tree line. When they got to the wharf, which was beginning to completely break apart, they could see the guys coming toward them. Andrew and Charlie were supporting their captain, who was limping badly.
"What are you doing out here?" Andrew yelled at Lindsey. She assessed his face and saw anger, along with multiple bleeding cuts. Charlie's face looked worse, though, with a deep gash on his brow.
"Brian said he lost contact with your boat. We came out here to find you!"
Andrew looked unimpressed—a look she'd seen before but never directed toward her—and a twinge of regret settled like a brick in her stomach. All she wanted to do was throw her arms around him and be thankful that he was alive, but the heat in his eyes made her stay put.
"Let's get you guys to the clinic," Ana said, interrupting the tension-filled moment.
_____
When the exam room door closed behind Dr. Anderson and they were alone at last, Lindsey glanced at Andrew. He wasted no time getting off the table to start redressing into his dry change of clothes provided by the clinic—a heavy sweater and dark jeans.
"How could you be so selfish, Lindsey?" he raged as he buckled his belt.
"Excuse me? You're calling me selfish? What about your stupid plan to go fishing in a fucking hurricane?" Furious with his accusation, her filter was officially down.
Andrew gave her a nasty smirk. "It wasn't a hurricane. Don't be so dramatic!"
Lindsey pushed a hand against Andrew's solid chest. "'Dramatic'? Don't you dare say that to me! A man died, Andrew. That just as easily could have been you!"
Andrew didn't back down. He kept his livid gaze level with hers. "And what about you? You left my children behind to go on a wild goose chase—"
She scoffed and gestured crazily. "Oh, is that what this is? Our marriage is a wild goose chase?"
"I may be your husband, Lindsey, but my children always come first. No exceptions." His voice was low, dangerous.
"Andrew…I had to know that you were okay. They were safe in the bunker—"
"But you weren't. If we'd both died, who would take care of them? Those kids have already lost enough. They need a mother…"
Lindsey's eyes flared. "Andrew Flynn, do you have some kind of death wish? What about a father? Are you trying to leave me alone with these kids?"
"I'm trying to fucking provide for my family! Don't you see that?" he roared.
Lindsey sobered at his outburst and said, "I'm sorry I let you down. I just couldn't leave you out there."
"You let me worry about me. Those children are just as much your responsibility now. Nothing changes that. Nothing."
And with those words lingering in the muggy air, Andrew walked out, slamming the door after him. Lindsey gaped at the shut door as her heart throbbed in her chest. Backing up against the wall, she slid to the cold floor and broke down.
Chapter 9
The storm passed, but only in a literal sense—not for Lindsey and Andrew. They spent the night in the bunker, unable to have a private conversation after their blow up earlier in the evening. Andrew probably wouldn't have talked to her anyway. She understood why he was upset. While the children had been safe, her choice to leave them behind was still reckless. Andrew was lucky to be alive and she easily could have drowned (she'd purposely left out that part). Her love for him blinded her at times; she wasn't perfect, but neither was he. To call her selfish wasn't fair and stung quite a bit.
Alas, one thing she took away from their argument was her responsibility to Jacob and Zoey. As Andrew's wife now, she needed to accept some kind of maternal position toward his children. Zoey would handle it in her own way since she could remember her real mother, but Jacob wouldn't know any different. Lindsey needed to take that relationship more seriously—starting immediately. She slept on the cot across from Andrew's, not exchanging a word with her husband as she curled Jake into her side. The infant downed a bottle of formula and then fell asleep with his head against Lindsey's chest. Unconsciousness overtook the woman as she reveled in the soft warmth that radiated from, who she was beginning to consider, her son.
The next day, Andrew was up early to help Brian with cleanup and an assessment of damages incurred to the island. Zoey and Tommy went off to get their bags for school, while Lindsey took Jacob to daycare. She arrived at her classroom a few minutes early and it was a good thing, because the room was trashed. Debris had hit a window during the storm, showering the linoleum with glass, bark and leaves. Lindsey exhaled heavily as the hypothetical weight on her shoulders intensified.
She crossed the room and extracted a broom from the closet. She began to sweep up the mess until it lay in a jagged, muddled heap. The window still gaped open, so she emptied a nearby box of books and broke down the cardboard until it formed a flat sheet. Armed with a roll of duct tape from her desk drawer, she aligned the cardboard to the window frame and, using her teeth, ripped off a long length of the super sticky tape. She pressed it along the outer edges and was almost done, when she slid on the slippery surface and brought her left hand down onto a remaining piece of glass. The shard embedded itself in her palm, but, luckily, only on the surface. She hissed in pain and carefully removed it, dropping the clear fragment onto the floor with a clink. Blood oozed out and trickled down her wrist. She yanked on her long shirt sleeve and placed it over the cut, pressing her other hand over it to stop the bleeding.
It didn't hurt too badly—she'd experienced much worse—but she felt moisture spring into her eyes anyway. Warm tears flowed down her cheeks and she squeezed her hands tighter. She told herself repeatedly that it wasn't the cut. It hit her that the tears had more to do with her sudden realization of mortality. Human beings were fragile; it was easy to die—too easy. They'd seen it time and time again—Jared, Kelly, Veronica, Eric, Nadie, Darius—the list went on. In that moment, she understood Andrew's fears and the negative impact the fight had on their relationship.
Oh, my God, I've fucked up.
Lindsey didn't hear the approaching footsteps until Zoey and Tommy were directly beside her.
"Woah, what happened?" Zoey asked, frowning at the sight of her crying.
The girl wasn't stupid. Lindsey could tell that Zoey knew something was up between her and Andrew, but didn't want to confess it outright. Her injury looked bad enough, so she decided to blame her embarrassing tears on that.
"I'm such a klutz. I cut my hand trying to fix the window." She showed the teenagers her palm and more blood appeared on the surface, but not as much as before.
Tommy gave her a sympathetic smile, his eyes resembling what she guessed were his mother's, as he said, "Come on, Miss Lindsey. Let's get you to the doc."
_____
Andrew did what he could to help Brian with the various repairs, but his head wasn't in it. With every mindless moment, his thoughts wandered to the woman teaching only a few buildings away. He was still mad at her, but the worst of his anger had waned. Now it mostly consisted of a frustration with her poor choice to go
after him the day before. He completely understood why she did it, but the bottom line was that she shouldn't have.
However, he'd let his anger get the best of him and had said some really horrible things. While that street went both ways, he'd ended it like a jerk. Lindsey still wasn't talking to him. She probably had no desire to. Though, he did notice how she'd taken charge with Jacob, maybe out of guilt, or maybe she'd picked up on his basic message through all the yelling. He hoped for the latter.
"Dad!"
Both Andrew and Brian turned their heads, not knowing which 'dad' the person was referring to, but it didn't matter when both of their children sprinted toward them.
"Zoey? Why aren't you in class?"
She laughed and wrinkled her eyebrows. "It's after lunch—we've been out for a while."
Andrew glanced at his watch, the hour and minute hands hovering just over the two. Wow, I had no idea of the time. Guess that's why I'm hungry. "What are you two up to?"
"And what's with the mad dash?" Brian added as he stuck out his graying mustache.
Tommy glanced at Zoey and then directly at the two men. "There's something you'll want to see."
_____
As Andrew walked alongside his daughter, he asked in a casual manner, "How was school?"
Zoey shrugged. "Good, I guess. We started late because Lindsey needed to go to the clinic and get stitches in her hand."
"What? Why? What happened?" His calm inquisition was over. While he'd hoped to hear about Lindsey through Zoey, this was not what he had expected.
"The storm broke a window in her classroom and she cut her hand on some glass. She seemed really upset about it. She's usually a pretty tough lady…"
Andrew closed his eyes on a sigh. "She is. Did she, uh, say anything?"
Zoey studied him for a moment. "No." She must have seen something in his expression because she asked outright, "Is there something going on with you and Lindsey? Are you fighting?"