Shortbread Stories's Blog › Shortbread's Light Bite:…

Shortbread's Light Bite: Flood Damage

Published 10 months ago

 For Friday's Light Bite we have a little gem of a story from George.    

Flood Damage by George.S. Straker

Loretta Larkin squelched into her living room with Max, her three-year-old German Shepherd, by her side. The heat from theFloridasun worked on the sodden carpet, releasing a stink that actually stung her throat. She loved Max (more than she ever loved any human), but, by Christ, the odorous combination of wet dog and damp was almost unbearable.

‘Damn it,’ Loretta mumbled with a ‘what’s-done-is-done’ attitude, and picked her black sweat-soaked leggings out of the crack of her ass.

The floodwaters had attacked the town of Elstonin the night, with a ferocity that couldn’t be combated. Even if they knew it was coming, the townspeople didn’t have the equipment to tackle such a powerful force of nature. Heck, only last month the governor of the town, George Helman, was on the television begging people to conserve water as a major drought was to be expected.

‘Some drought, George, but I bet your big house on the hill is safe and sound, you stupid—‘

Her thought was interrupted by an uncharacteristic and rather threatening growl from Max. His moist nostrils flared as he caught the scent of something in the air. He backed out of the living room like a frightened horse.

‘What is it, boy?’ Loretta asked. Max’s growl turned into a whimper. ‘Don’t you worry about it,’ Loretta continued, rubbing Max on the downy soft fur behind his ear. ‘We’ll get the house all nice again.’ Those asshole insurance companies would rape her premiums next year, assuming that they would even cover her policy, now that her home was a flood risk.

The power had been cut, but a small, battery powered radio - speckled with white paint from when her and her ex-husband, Randall, painted the ceilings - kept her up to date with what was going on. And sweet F.A. seemed to be the answer.

Sure, the Army was working its way through the flood, but their priority was rescuing people trapped on roofs in the most affected areas. All that Loretta could do was watch the water level slowly rise outside, and wait for her bungalow to fill up like a fish tank. All her valuables would be destroyed, and she still had eight repayments on the flatscreen TV she bought four months ago. Unless…

Through the dust coated living room window she saw her red Chevrolet pick-up truck, tyre deep in the muddy water. It was the only thing of value she got from divorcing that good for nothin’, cheatin’ ex-husband of hers. At the same time, a blueToyotasaloon trundled by on its way to drier land. It was loaded with a sombre looking family, and stuffed full of their belongings.

Well, if a car like that can wade through the water, Loretta thought, then my pick-up can easily get to my sister’s house. It’s only four miles away, and on the crest of a hill. She’ll be safe from disaster.

Loretta always felt a certain sibling jealously towards her sister. She was thin and had a good husband. She didn’t want for money, she was well liked, well spoken and well regarded in the community. All of the things Loretta wanted but didn’t have. But staying at her sister’s would be a damn sight better than sitting on her roof in the baking sun, sweating like a pig on a spit.

The water wasn’t getting any shallower, so Loretta decided to get going. Opening the door would cause a rush of water to invade her home, and she wasn’t going to make it that easy for the flood to enter, no siree. So her plan was to go out the living room window, get Max into the cab of her pick-up, back the truck up to the window, and load her TV, microwave, laptop, jewellery, and a host of other valuables into the trucks bed. Then she would get the hell out of dodge.

She pulled the coffee table over to the window to be used as a step, and put a leash on Max. She then stepped onto the table - her wet sandals leaving foot shaped water stains on the polished wood.

‘Come on, boy,’ she said. Max was hesitant, but he leapt onto the coffee table, his front legs splaying slightly as his nails slid on the surface.

Loretta opened the window, and, with a grunt of effort, swung a heavy leg over the sill, catching it on the head of a nail that was not fully flush with the wood.

She groaned, fingering the rip in her leggings and looking at the blood seeping from the cut.

Randall and his half-assed DIY jobs, she thought. I hope he drowns in this flood. Him and his ugly tart.

She then swung her other leg over with caution, and lowered herself from the sill into the muddy water that licked at the cut on her thigh.

‘C’mon, Maxy, here boy, here boy,’ she said in her best doggy motivational voice.

Max whimpered.

She tried again, giving a little tug on the leash. Max jumped through the window, and landed with a splash into the floodwater, his legs paddling as Loretta waded towards the truck.

A surge of water pushed against her back, followed by a powerful tug on the leash that almost ripped her arm off. She fell on her ass, water leaking into her mouth.

She poked her head above the water, and gasped loudly.

What was that?

‘Max,’ she whimpered. But he was nowhere to be seen. A primal fear seeped into Loretta’s heavy bones. Something was seriously wrong. She was in a lot of danger. Her breathing increased, and she began wheezing as her asthma kicked in.

She had to get to her truck. Oh, Christ, she didn’t want to die, not today, not like this.

Her fat legs moved as quickly as they could, but that was only as fast as a deep sea diver with those heavy brass boots on. Her asthma was squeezing her windpipe closed.

She needed to relax.

Yeah, right, she thought. Something, goddamn massive just tore Max from my arm. And I’m still out here with it. It’s here somewhere, could be ahead, could be behind. I could even step on it.

Her heart punched against her chest, and terror surged through her body. She couldn’t move. Her truck was only ten steps away, but it might as well have been in another State. She looked at the little German Shepherd soft toy dangling from her rear view mirror. Her sister had gotten it for her last year. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. What a coward she was, just standing there, soaked to the bone, waiting for whatever took Max to come and take her.

‘No,’ she gawped. And with anger to fuel her along, she took a sluggish step towards the safety of her truck.

But that would be the last step that Loretta Larkin ever took. She didn’t see the beady, yellow eyes, or the smiling, warty muzzle of the crocodile as it sharked through the water behind her. The flooded streets of Elston had now become its hunting ground, and Loretta its prey.

As it sprang out of the muddy water, Loretta noticed an oily shadow staining the surface. Then an immense pressure clamped around the back of her head and neck. Teeth the size of a man’s thumb punctured through her cheeks and busted three molars from her gums. Blood began to seep from her bulging eyes just before the crocodile twisted and snapped her neck like a breadstick.

Then she was gone. The shallow water, her shallow grave.

If you have enjoyed this story, why not leave a comment telling the author so!

Share This Blog Post

Recommend this blog post to other social networking services such as Twitter and Facebook.