Isabella
Inside my head, Munchkins sing, ding dong the witch is dead which I wouldn’t believe except for the fact I saw Xavier’s head explode.
I may be in shock but when the flying monkeys disappear, and the island stops shaking, it’s not Toto I look for, but my daughter.
The grandmother hands her to me and with tears in my eyes, I mouth, thank you and we stand.
Miraculously, the guest house is still in one piece and we don’t say a word as we all make our way toward it. Grayson holds up Slate, Skye is to my chest, and Thomas follows with his grandmother.
Below, the confused ocean waves don’t seem to know what to do as they smack against each other. The main house is destroyed, the dock is gone but somehow, we all survived. That is, except for dreadlock-man and Xavier.
I glance back at the pile of debris where up to a few moments ago, we were standing. Boards, lumber, furniture and appliances are all tangled together, a mass of brokenness. The tub on the second floor stands alone, a sad victory flag.
While we make our way through a small garden of tropical flowers, I keep one eye out for Samuel, the man with the gold front tooth who seems to have disappeared.
At the door to the guesthouse, the grandmother stops, touches my arm, and says, “I’m so sorry, Missus. I had no idea what they were up to.”
I don’t even have words to thank her. She saved Skye but then again, she must have had something to do with Xavier’s plans.
This is not the time to hold grudges. “It’s over. That’s what’s important.”
Later, we sit on the couch in the small, dark living room as I check Skye’s little arms and legs for bumps or bruises. Poor little dear is exhausted.
When the world shakes again, I scream, shudder, and drop onto my ass in the middle of the living room. Fucking aftershocks. I don’t know what’s worse, the first quake or all of the others that make you think it’s happening all over again.
Thankfully, I didn’t wake Skye.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, dark clouds roll away, and the sun peaks out. It feels like afternoon but in truth, it can’t even be nine in the morning.
Barefoot, I pad down the hall in my yoga pants and t-shirt. My clothes are soaked with Slate’s blood. He speaks softly with Grayson in the bedroom where a three-inch crack slices through the plaster.
My husband glances up from where he pinches Slate’s shoulder, sewing needle in the air. “How’s the baby?”
“I’ve checked and rechecked. It hardly seems possible but she doesn’t even have a bruise.”
Slate manages a smile. “Good. That means your husband probably won’t fire me.”
“Fire you? Holy shit. You took a bullet for us.” I can’t believe he could think that way.
“Maybe so, but I’m in charge of security and didn’t see this one coming.”
“Oh my God. Don’t worry, I’m sure Grayson will take it out of your pay in babysitting duty.” I grin, about to make another joke when ominous sirens blare, like World War II England in an old, black and white movie.
Eyes wide, Thomas shouts out to Slate, “Tidal wave!”
Grayson turns to Slate. “You got a weather radio?”
“It’s on top of the refrigerator.”
“I’ll get it.” I find it, put it on the kitchen table, and turn knobs until I find an official sounding broadcast.
“Repeat. Head for high ground. There’s a tsunami alert for the area of the Greater Bahamas, Cuba, and the East Coast of Florida.”
This is followed by a confusing list of latitudes and longitudes. Without another thought, I run up the hill to where the house collapsed and stare down at where the ocean used to be.
Now I know how the Israelites felt when the Red Sea parted.
A strong scent of salt, fish, and seaweed waft off the breeze and I’m mesmerized by the sight of the exposed ocean bottom.
However, it’s the eerie quiet that disturbs me most. Even the insects have stopped chirping. I figure we got maybe five minutes, tops, before we’re covered in water.
I take the kid’s hand. I didn’t even notice that he now stands next to me. We both run to where Slate, Grayson, Skye and his grandmother are sitting ducks.
“You guys. The fucking ocean disappeared. We need to get to high ground.”
Both men pale but the boy grabs my arm as his grandmother tugs us toward a small grove of coconut trees. “Follow me. Hurry.”
I take Skye while Grayson grabs Slate and we all race to the top of the hill in the middle of the island.
“Will this be high enough?” My heart pounds because the answer is clear in the kid’s eyes.
“When it comes, you hear it. It be like no’ting else you ever hear before. We need to climb.”
Grayson squats, eye to eye with Thomas. “You been in one of these before?”
“No, but in school we have drills. Dey tell us what to do. You must climb like this.”
Like a little monkey he scrambles up and down one of the larger palm trees. There’s no fucking way I can do that.
Slate shouts out and points. “There’s a yellow rope behind the house. Go get it.”
The kid dashes away and comes back with a big grin, holding the coil of nylon high. “This is even easier, missus. Watch me.”
He ties a loop of rope around his ankles, uses it as a kind of brace, and inches up the tree. When he comes down, he wraps my legs similarly, and tries to show me what to do.
A huge sucking noise comes from the ocean.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
Grayson puts the baby in a towel, cuts a piece of cord, and ties her to the boy’s chest. “Go. Take her as high as you can.”
The grandmother, although slower, follows with amazing skill for one who must be at least sixty.
I’m about to die and the reality hits me in the gut. I pray somehow little Skye will make it and if she does, I’m sure Grayson will be an awesome dad.
I don’t even have time to finish the thought as Slate climbs up behind the kid and the grandmother. “I got them boss, you get Isabella.”
“C’mon. hun. You always said you were a tree hugger. Time to prove it.” My husband places my hands around the base of the palm tree.
“I can’t.” A roar like nothing I’ve ever heard gets closer and closer and at first, it looks like fog rolling in. When I realize it’s an enormous monster of a wave, I just stare, unable to move.
“Climb dammit.” Gray reaches around my waist and I clamp my thighs around the trunk.
I’m too damn slow and jump off. “You go. I’ll follow.” This way, at least Skye won’t be orphaned.
“Not happening.” He clamps onto my waist and shoves me over his head while I scramble to hold onto the trunk.
From below, he head-butts me. If I don’t move, he’ll never get higher than me. My fingers bleed and my biceps ache as I work to find handholds. The bottoms of my bare feet cup the tree and I inch up but the technique used by the boy and his grandmother is too damn hard.
From the tree next to us, Thomas’ grandmother shouts out encouragement. “Go, missus. You’re almost there.”
When we get about halfway I stop, unable to go further but Grayson climbs behind me, his chest to my back, his booming command in my ear. “Move it, Isabella.”
I do. Again and again I inch up as the tsunami wave looms above us, growing bigger, taller.
These are the last thoughts of my life.
A wall of water crashes over the top of the guest house, then it hits our trees. Ours bends and I wait for it to break. I’d scream but it’s impossible under water. Grayson presses me so tightly to the trunk that even if there were oxygen, I couldn’t breathe.
At the moment my lungs give out, the water level falls below my neck, and I gasp.
Holy shit. This gigantic palm tree heads right for us, roots first.
“I love you, babe.” Grayson shoves his feet toward the oncoming monster, deflecting it enough to bypass us.
Suddenly and horribly, one of its arms grabs hold of him, and he washes away faster than a speeding car.
In seconds, he’s out of view. “Gray! Gray! Grayson. Oh God no.”