Scratch Read Free Page B

him.”  
    With the prospect of going outside already forgotten, Dylan busied himself with his toys. He sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with his Thomas the Tank Engine set, making little choo-choo sounds. He laid his Spider-man flashlight on the carpet next to him, illuminating the scene.  
    I put on my jacket and boots. When Sanchez saw that, he knew it was his cue. He ran to the door and stood there, wagging his tail impatiently. Marlena kissed my cheek and told me to be careful. I promised her that I would.  
    Then we stepped out into the aftermath.  
    Cold, wet mist clung to my face and hair. Shivering, I zipped my jacket up tighter. My glasses fogged over, and I had to wipe them off with my shirt. Sanchez padded along beside me, sniffing the ground, head swiveling from side-to-side. The first thing I did was examine the house, making sure the gutters were still in place, and checking the windows and the siding. Luckily, none of the windows were broken, but three of them were cracked. The siding on one side of the house had taken the worst of the damage. It looked like someone had peppered it with a machine gun. The gutters were dented, but seemed sound enough. There were a few roof tiles in the yard, but that would be an easy enough fix. No major damage, and the siding and windows would be easy enough to replace.  
    Satisfied, we checked out the rest of the property. The mist had a strange, dampening effect on noise. I heard a lone bird chirping, but otherwise, the only sound was the stream. It was roaring. I couldn’t see it, but I knew what that sound meant.  
    The water was high.  
    We came across the first downed tree about fifty feet from the house—one of the old pines that had been there long before we moved in. Lightning had shattered the top half, and there was debris everywhere. The trunk’s remains looked sturdy enough, but I’d have to take it down before the rest fell over. That meant struggling with my chainsaw. I groaned aloud at the prospect.  
    Sanchez and I continued exploring, winding our way around fallen limbs and puddles. The sound of rushing water grew louder. He paused and lapped at a pool of rainwater while I turned around and looked behind us. The house was gone now, concealed in the fog. I’d hoped to see Marlena and Dylan watching me from the window, and their absence made my breath hitch, though I didn’t know why. I chalked it up to a case of post-storm nerves.  
    Sanchez lifted his leg and pissed on a pile of leaves. After a moment, I joined him. Steam rose from our urine. I glanced towards the marsh. It was covered with standing water, and the hailstones had flattened the reeds and other vegetation. The marsh was usually full of frogs and ducks and snakes. I wondered what kind of damage they’d incurred.  
    Finished peeing, we continued on. The mist parted as we neared the trout stream, and I groaned again. The creek had breached its banks. The rhododendron bush that Marlena and I had planted when we moved in was completely underwater, and a nearby elm sapling was partially submerged. As I’d suspected, my fruit trees and crown vetch were all gone, along with much of the grass and soil along the bank. I could only imagine how bad the erosion would be once the waters receded.  
    I edged forward, cautious. The churning rapids kept Sanchez cowed, and he remained where he was. Brown water, the color of caramel, rushed by. The constant roar was incredible—louder and more awe-inspiring than the thunderstorm that had preceded it. Foot high waves, topped with white, bubbling foam lapped at the yard. A constant barrage of debris rushed by—branches, plastic bottles, a Styrofoam cooler, leaves, a fishing rod, a dead deer, old tires, scraps of cloth and plastic sheeting, chicken wire, aluminum cans, siding, roof shingles, a tangle of barbed wire, lumber, a wooden crate, shattered planks from someone’s footbridge, fence posts, a telephone pole with the wires still