Featuring Scott Mullins from thisiswriting.com
Join EB and Scott Mullins from thisiswriting.com as we venture out and enjoy a warm summer shower of creativity!
Scott Mullins is a writer and founder of thisiswriting.com. His site features several resources for writers, many of them free of charge. This is Writing has an archive of hundreds of interviews and excerpts from authors from around the world – aimed at helping writers connect and share ideas. Check it out!
It had been raining for seventeen days. All hard. No let up. The river swollen far beyond the banks. News over the little yellow survival crank radio that I had said 157 dead. This wasn’t good. The levee had broken. Two bridges that I knew of anyway had washed out.
My cat, Bella was beginning to get anxious. She knew that we were going to have to leave. My sandbags that I had filled with sand from a nearby pit, the ones that I spent a week filling and hauling back, 2000 of them, well, they did what they could.
I opened the front door of my second floor apartment and looked down at the encroaching water. I saw something dark under the surface. I hoped it wasn’t a body.
Bella and I had already packed our bags. We new that it was only a matter of time. I had a dozen tins of wet cat food and some ziplocks of kibble for the cat. For myself, I had a green seabag full of MRE’s from the military.
I felt like I was getting gouged at the military surplus store when I bought them, especially since I used to get MREs free in the Marines, but you didn’t mess around with this stuff. You needed clean food and water.
I had a kayak tied to one of the trees in the backyard and covered with a dark tarp. I didn’t want it to draw too much attention. Looters had been going haywire around the town. They had even tried robbing the bank. Idiots.
I grabbed Bella and put her in a small cage, attached that to my pack, put on a headlamp, grabbed my 9 mm pistol, and a machete, and set out. The water was cold, and it was already up to my waist. Nothing like this had ever happened in this part of Wisconsin before, not since the Ice Age anyway.
I waded to kayak. Bella was crying in my pack. I had put a yellow slicker over my head and the pack to try to protect her, but the sound of the heavy drops slamming down onto it was deafening.
I wrestled with the tarp a bit, with the intention of taking it with, but it was so waterlogged and unwieldy I decided to let it just go with the rest of my belongings.
We got in the Kayak, I untied the rope, and we were off. I began paddling.
It was midday. The water splashing from the surface of the water was blinding. I persevered.
I would survive this. And so would Bella.
We were going to start a new life somewhere….dry.