Chapter 3 - THE NIGHT EVERYTHING WENT DARK
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then the emergency alarm started beeping.
“Flashlight!” Ben shouted.
“I’ve got my phone.”
“Use it.”
Mercer switched on his phone light.
Ben grabbed the puppies, two at a time, and moved them onto a dry shelf above the floor.
Ruby stayed beneath them.
Another boom of thunder shook the windows.
“Ben,” Mercer said, “the basement.”
“I know.”
“If the water reaches the panel—”
“I know.”
Ben pulled a flashlight from the drawer near the register.
He opened the basement door.
Water was already covering the bottom two steps.
“Damn it.”
“You need to call the fire department.”
Ben shook his head.
“Storm like this? They’ve got bigger problems.”
“You go down there, you could get electrocuted.”
“The main disconnect is halfway down.”
“That’s still water.”
Ben stared into the basement.
Every instinct told him not to go.
Then he thought about the freezer.
His restaurant was barely surviving.
Food prices had climbed.
Two of his ovens needed repairs.
His business loan payment was due Friday.
One bad week could break him.
He grabbed a wooden broom handle.
“What are you doing?”
“Turning off the main.”
“Ben—”
“If the panel shorts, I lose half the kitchen.”
“And if you get killed, you lose slightly more.”
Ben almost laughed.
Almost.
He stepped down carefully.
Water covered his ankle.
Then his calf.
“Stay there.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
He reached the disconnect.
The metal handle was inches above the water.
Ben used the wooden broom handle.
“Come on.”
It wouldn’t move.
Behind him, a puppy cried.
Ruby barked.
“I’m working on it!”
He pushed harder.
The lever snapped down.
The restaurant went completely silent.
“No power,” Mercer said.
“That was the idea.”
Ben climbed back upstairs.
Rain hammered the roof.
For the next hour, they moved everything they could from the basement.
Mercer, to Ben’s surprise, helped.
Cases of canned goods.
Boxes of dry pasta.
Cleaning supplies.
Anything above the rising waterline.
At one point Mercer slipped.
Ben caught his arm.
“Careful.”
“Don’t tell anyone you saved me.”
“Would ruin your reputation.”
Mercer gave him a tired look.
When they finished, the water was waist-high downstairs.
There was nothing else to do.
Ben checked the puppies.
All four were breathing.
He crouched beside Ruby.
“You did good, Mom.”
Ruby licked his hand.
Mercer watched them.
“You named her?”
“Ruby.”
“You name all your illegal alley residents?”
“Only the polite ones.”
Mercer sighed.
“You can’t keep them here tomorrow.”
Ben looked up.
“Walter—”
“I’m serious. Insurance. Health codes. Complaints. Pick one.”
“They need somewhere dry.”
“Then call animal control.”
Ben’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I called three weeks ago.”
Mercer stopped.
“And?”
“They said the shelter was full.”
“So?”
“So they told me if the dogs were sick, injured, or dangerous, they might be euthanized.”
Mercer looked at Ruby.
She was licking the smallest puppy.
Ben lowered his voice.
“I’m not gambling with their lives.”
For a long moment, neither man spoke.
Then a loud crash came from the alley.
Ruby shot to her feet.
Ben grabbed the flashlight.
“What was that?”
He opened the back door.
The old cardboard shelter was gone.
The dumpster had shifted six feet.
And against the far wall, half-hidden by rushing water, something large was struggling under a fallen wooden pallet.
May you like
Ben aimed the flashlight.
Then he heard a dog scream.
