“Heather, where are you right now?” I asked.
“Our basement,” she sobbed. “The water is coming up the stairs. We called 911, but they said the road is underwater.”
“How deep is the water in your basement?”
“Four feet! Maybe five!”
“Get to your second floor,” I commanded. “Unplug everything you can. Ration whatever food you have upstairs. Do not try to drive. A rescue boat is going to come when it can.”
“Rowan, please—”
“I am hanging up now, Heather, because other people in your subdivision are going to need the phone lines, and the cell towers are about to go down. I will see you on the other side.”
I set the receiver down. I looked out the kitchen window. The sky over the valley was the color of old zinc.
