Three Rivers (20 page)

Daddy's face was gray and his eyes wobbled. He grasped at her. Something was wrong; something was missing. Daddy wheezed and rattled, but the oxygen tank was silent. She stared at the big silver contraption with its clear tubes leading to Daddy's nose and its big black cord plugged into the wall outlet. No electricity, no oxygen. “Oh, Daddy.… Just hang on.”

There was a portable tank next to the larger electric tank, but she didn't know how to use it. She had to find Maurice. “Try to relax, Daddy. Don't panic.”

“Genie,” he croaked.

“Don't talk, Daddy. Save your energy.”

“Genie.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Mama will come home, you'll see.” She ran to the back door to look for Maurice. She hoped she could find him before her father stopped breathing.

 

Chapter Seventeen

Obi crept through the rising water. The boy he'd seen in the window was hiding behind a tree, spying on Liam. Rain ran down around them, but the boy didn't seem to mind the wet. Obi was soaked. He'd put Liam in the car and gone out to gather firewood, which he carried now wrapped in a tarp for later. When the rain let up, they'd want dry wood and kindling for a fire. Now he wanted the boy behind the tree to go away. What could he be doing, out in this storm and so far from the house? The boy stood between Obi and his son. It was a bad place to stand. Obi stopped and watched the boy, tried to read his stance and his intentions. He was up to no good; Obi was sure about that. People who lived inside stayed inside when the weather turned bad.

Obi's rifle was slung across his back. He set the bundle of wood down in the rushing water and felt the future warmth it could bring wash away. He moved forward. Water swirled around his legs. It was rising fast. When he was about six feet away from the boy, he saw the car driving toward them. It was not the kind of car that anyone should be driving through several feet of rushing water on a dirt path to nowhere. Obi's first thought was that the cops were coming for him, but it wasn't a police car, not even an unmarked police car. It was a cheap subcompact swerving wildly. If the driver didn't slow down, he'd end up in the creek or wrapped around a tree. Then Obi saw the other option, the more likely option; the car was careening toward his car, and toward his son.

Obi sprinted past the boy behind the tree, who was now waving his arms and shouting. The car skidded and bobbed violently along the surface of the water. It happened during floods. Drivers braked when they shouldn't, turned too quickly, or panicked and gave everything to the strong pull of the currents. Obi yanked open the passenger-side door of his mother's car and pulled Liam into his arms. He ran, his son cradled against his chest, toward the spot where he'd first seen the spinning car appear, because one thing was certain: The car was moving forward fast and it wasn't going to turn back.

Liam wrapped his legs around Obi's waist and held tight to his neck. Obi galloped through the water, racing to put as much distance as possible between his son and the careening vehicle. Liam thought it was a game. “Go, Daddy!” he yelled. Behind Obi, there was a sickening crunch of metal followed by a crack of thunder. Someone screamed. Obi turned to look. The car had crashed smack into the passenger side, where Liam had sat just moments before. Obi stared at the point of impact, and even though Liam was in his arms, he pictured his son in the car, pictured him mangled in the horrible wreckage. His only job was to keep Liam safe. Again and again, he came so close to failing.

The driver of the wrecked car stumbled out, fell on his face into the water, scrambled to his feet, and fell again. A bright gash of blood poured down his face, one spot of color in the gray world. Obi hesitated, not wanting to get mixed up with this man, or with the boy behind the tree, or with anyone, but Liam was more compassionate. “He's hurt. Help him, Daddy.”

Obi walked toward the man. He kept one arm around Liam and used the other to pull his gun around. He didn't point it at the man, but he kept his hand on the barrel. The cool metal felt like security. The man stared up at Obi, his eyes glassy and frightened. The cut on his head poured blood across his face, lending him a savage look. Obi suspected the man could do with some stitches.

“Are you okay?” Obi asked.

The man stared up at him. “Am I okay?”

“Can you walk?”

The man struggled to his feet. He wobbled but remained standing.

“Do you live here?” Obi asked. “I think you should go back to the house, call a doctor.”

The man shook his head and then winced as if the motion pained him. “I was leaving, trying to leave. The roads—oh, they're terrible.”

“You shouldn't be driving in this weather,” Obi said.

“I turned back, but I couldn't see. I guess I missed the driveway. I don't know what happened.” The man slumped down to the ground again. “I'm very tired.”

Obi released his grip on the rifle. “Listen.” He dragged the man up to a standing position, keeping his other arm around Liam. “You've got a bad gash on your head. You need to go inside, get a doctor.” The man nodded, but he didn't seem to understand. “Can you get back to the house? Will someone there help you?”

“She threw me out,” he said. “I was trying to help her.”

Obi looked for the boy who'd been spying on Liam. Where could the boy have gone? Obi didn't like losing sight of him. It left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Finally, Obi spotted him. He was not alone. He walked toward Obi with a tall black man. Neither appeared to be armed, but Obi wished he could grab his rifle. If it came down to it, he would drop the injured man in favor of his rifle, he decided.

“Hi, there,” the black man said. “I'm Maurice and this is Bobby.”

Obi nodded, cautious.

“This is private land,” Maurice said.

“I have permission to be here.” Obi tightened his grip on Liam. “My mother knows the woman who owns this land. She said we could camp here.”

“You know mother mine, mine, mine, Mama?” The boy who'd been spying on Liam spoke with some sort of stutter. And he wasn't really a boy. Something about the way he moved had Obi thinking he was a teenager, but he saw now that the boy was a man, not so much younger than Obi.

“My mother knows your mother,” Obi said.

“She is where? Where is she?”

There was something off about the boy, but he didn't seem to be a threat. At least he didn't seem to be threatening them. Obi was less certain about Maurice. The way he said it was “private land” made Obi wonder if he planned to protect the land from people like him. And yet, Obi could hardly believe that Maurice had any claim on the land. Obi knew the type of women who visited his mother. They were, without exception, white and entitled.

“This man is hurt,” Obi said.

“We don't know him.” Maurice shook his head like a dog trying to shake off water. “He just showed up to talk to Bobby's sister.”

“He shouldn't have been driving. He almost killed my son.” Obi struggled to balance Liam's comfortable, familiar weight against the heavy pull of the injured man. “He needs a doctor. At the very least, he needs this wound cleaned out.” The man's bleeding head sagged against Obi's shoulder.

“I'm a nurse,” Maurice said. “Let's get him back to the house.”

Obi shoved the man toward Maurice and Bobby, but the man protested. “No.” His voice was high pitched and whiny. “I want to stay with you.”

“You can't stay out here.”

“We can all go home,” Bobby said.

“You can help me,” the man said.

“No.” Obi's arm was numb from supporting the man's weight, and he couldn't believe two able-bodied men would just stand there and not offer help. Maybe Bobby was a little slow, but there was nothing wrong with him physically. If Maurice really was a nurse, Obi figured he wasn't a very good one.

“You should come with us,” Maurice said. “This storm is getting worse. If the levees break, we'll be right in the path of the flood. You don't want your son out in this, do you? This is your son, right?”

Obi thought he heard a hint of threat or insinuation in Maurice's voice. He didn't like it one bit. “We'll be fine.” Of course, it wasn't true; they would not be fine. The wreck had destroyed their one piece of shelter. They had no way to travel now except by foot. If the rain kept up, they'd be forced to swim.

“Let's all go home, home, home,” Bobby sang. Liam laughed.

“No. We'll manage. Thanks for the offer.”

“You need to come inside,” Maurice said. “If anything happened to you out here—”

“We would not hold you responsible for anything that happened to us.”

“Do you really want to be out in this mess with a child?”

They were stranded and it was raining like the end of the world was near. Obi's options were slim, and he knew it. Liam shivered and huddled tight against him. Maurice was right. The floodwaters were rising, and he couldn't protect Liam from the storm. Maybe he could protect him in the house. Maybe he could protect them both.

“Can I get some help here?” He cocked his head toward the injured man hanging on his shoulder. Maurice stepped forward and hoisted the man's weight. They followed Bobby to the house, a sad parade slogging through three feet of water. Bobby warned them away from obstacles. “Don't step there!” he shouted, and pointed off to his right. “Big hole!” And a few moments later: “Old tractor parts up here. Swing wide. Follow me.”

Obi respected Bobby's sure instructions. Here was a boy who'd spent his life on these acres and who knew them by heart. Bobby's stutter disappeared as he led them across the land. Obi kept an arm around Liam as they walked, though he needn't have bothered. Liam wrapped his body around Obi's torso like a strangling snake, and there was no chance he'd let go.

*   *   *

At the house, a frantic young woman rushed to meet them. “Oxygen!” she shouted. “Electricity is out. Daddy needs oxygen.”

Maurice pushed the injured man back onto Obi and sprinted into the house. The woman followed. Obi and Bobby stood on the porch, supporting the weight of the injured man between them, all three of them soaked to the core. Obi felt shackled. His rifle, slung across his back, was out of reach as long as he held the man.

The woman reappeared. “He's okay. He's okay.” She looked at Bobby when she spoke, but he didn't respond. Her chest heaved. Obi felt sorry for her. She had the look of a woman completely overwhelmed. She let her eyes track across the sorry group of soggy men.

“Dear God, what in the hell happened?”

“Wreck wreck wreck car,” Bobby said.

“This is too much.” Her body slumped until Obi thought she might fold in half. “This is too goddamned much.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” She looked hard at Obi.

“Your friend here almost killed my son,” he said. “We'll be on our way.”

The woman reached out and touched Liam's arm in a way that was just a little too familiar for Obi's comfort. “No,” she said. “You can't have a child out in this weather. Is this your son?”

“Of course he's my son.” Obi kept his voice steady, but he didn't mask his anger. Liam could have been killed, and all they wanted to do was establish paternity.

“Come inside,” she said. “Leave the gun. I won't have that gun in the house.”

Obi hesitated. She met his eyes. “You won't need it.”

She took the injured man's arm, and Obi slid the strap of the rifle off his shoulder. He placed it under an old, rotted wood-slat bench on the porch, close enough to retrieve as soon as he got a chance. He might not need it, but he didn't intend to be without it for long.

It was dark inside and oddly quiet except for the rain on the roof and the whoosh of the wind. The only other sound was a steady
pffft, pffft, pffft
coming from the next room. They stood, dripping, in the kitchen.

“How did this happen?” The woman pulled a chair from the kitchen table, and the injured man slumped into it.

“Wreck, wreck, wreck,” Bobby said.

“Wreck, wreck, wreck,” Liam whispered against Obi's neck.

“He lost control in the rain,” Obi said. “Damn near killed my son. He had no business driving in this storm.”

“I forced him out.” Her voice shook. She sank into a chair. “I sent him out into this mess. He never should have come here, but I'm the one who sent him out. I saw how bad it was raining, and I sent him out anyway.” She sighed. “If everything in life is a choice, then my choices are terrible.”

Obi recognized fear in the woman's voice. She was running, too, if only from her own demons.

Maurice strode through the kitchen and opened the freezer. “I need ice. And you should call 911. We need to get both of them to a hospital. That spare tank won't last more than a day.”

Obi gathered that Maurice was caring for someone in the next room. His mother had mentioned a sick husband.

The woman went to the phone, and put it to her ear. “Line's down.”

Maurice emptied ice trays into a plastic bag at the sink. The woman rushed over and shut the freezer door. She scolded Maurice. “There's no electricity. All our food will spoil.”

Maurice put the plastic bag on the man's head. “I needed ice.”

The man's head lolled forward. “Ouch.”

“Well, don't hurt him,” the woman said.

“I'm not hurting him. He has a concussion. We need to keep him awake.”

Bobby reached over and pinched the man hard on the arm. “I'll do it,” he said. “I'll keep him awake.” He pinched the man again.

“That's enough for now.” Maurice touched Bobby's arm. “Just make sure he keeps this ice on his head. It should help with the swelling.”

Obi watched all this from his spot just inside the door. Liam squirmed; Obi held him tight. He didn't want any part of these people's messy, complicated lives. He had enough problems. It was one thing to take shelter in a house; it was quite another to get mixed up with people. Obi intended to keep his distance. Liam had other plans. He squirmed wildly until Obi had no choice but to set him down or drop him.