Bill pointed up the hill. “We’re setting up a triage center in the gymnasium. All injuries will be seen to there. The school nurse, Nancy, you remember? Same as when your little girl was here, I believe. She was here catching up on paperwork for the state, so she’s got a good head start.”

  “What about food, shelter?”

  “Cafeteria is going to go operational this afternoon. Hot meals as long as we have supplies. Don’t know how many people to expect, so can’t really say how long that’ll be.” Bill stepped closer as the wind lifted his white hair. “I’ve heard the first five blocks of town were swept away. Nothing left but water.”

  Clint reeled. If that were true, his house was gone. As were hundreds of others. “What about the medical centers by the coast?”

  “I’m guessing there’s nothing left. What the quake didn’t tear apart, the water swallowed.” Bill glanced at the ground. “We might have lost half the town.”

  Ten thousand people? Was that possible? Clint stared out at the blue sky beginning to pale in the late afternoon. “Mika’s on a camping trip with her scout troop. In the Park.”

  Bill whistled low. “At least you know she didn’t drown.”

  “But that doesn’t mean she’s alive.”

  “You headed there?”

  Clint nodded. “If the house is gone, it doesn’t matter if I stop by to check, now does it?”

  Bill managed a chuckle. “Guess it doesn’t.” He gave Clint’s upper arm a squeeze. “You get out of here. Go find that daughter of yours. We’ll still be here when you get back.”

  Clint nodded his thanks. After making eye contact with Jack and nodding toward the truck, he took off at a lope. Now that he’d dropped everyone off somewhere safe, he was off to find his daughter.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DAPHNE

  The water barreled into the town, over the streets, lifting cars, toppling streetlights. It swelled beneath them, edging up the side of the ruined building across the street. Bubbling and gurgling below them. She turned to the stenographer who sat on the edge of the passenger seat, legs splayed out, heels digging into the painted stripe of the parking spot.

  “Pamela, you’ve got to get up here. The water, it’s—” she searched for the word. “Relentless. I’m afraid—”

  “We’re four stories off the ground. And how many miles inland? There’s no way the ocean will surge this high. We’re fine.”

  Daphne worried the chipped edge of a painted nail between her teeth. “You can’t see it, but I can.”

  “Then where is it, exactly?”

  Water lapped at the exterior of the deck. Daphne stretched tall, rising on the bare balls of her feet, but it was no use. She turned toward the ramp and squinted into the dark. Was it coming?

  She sagged back down to her heels. “It’s multiple stories high, I can see that much.”

  Pamela snorted out a reply and turned away from the open door, heaving herself fully onto the seat.

  Daphne resisted the urge to argue and lowered into a seated position on the hood. It flexed beneath her weight but held her fine. She sat there, hands on her knees, as her blood rocketed through her veins and her fingers trembled. This was worse than the quake in a way. The expectation. The suspense.

  She closed her eyes and listened. Beneath the jagged breath and steady beat of her heart, she heard it. A slow roar like a sound machine or TV back when you could tune in static.

  As she opened her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath. Mixed with the smell of old oil and gas and concrete was something new. Something earthy and moist. Musky, even.

  Flood water.

  Rising on shaky legs she peered over the edge of the deck before turning back to the ramp. Was that—?

  “Pamela?” Her voice came out as wobbly as her legs. “Pamela? You need to get up here.”

  The other woman didn’t respond. Daphne fell to her knees and leaned over, peering into the vehicle. Pamela leaned back in the passenger seat, earbuds in her ears. She was listening to music? Now?

  Daphne slammed her fist on the roof of the Jeep, once, twice, three times, and Pamela’s eyes popped open.

  “What the heck? Can’t you see I’m resting?”

  “The water. It’s here.” Daphne jabbed her index finger in the direction of the ramp. You’ve got to get up here.”

  Pamela made a show of putting her earbuds away and shoving her phone in her purse. Daphne glanced at the ramp. She gasped. How could it be coming that fast?

  What used to be the faintest hint of water was now a steady flood. It inched up the ramp, dark froth in front, followed by muddy waves. Daphne twisted around on the roof in a panic. What if she wasn’t high enough? What if it came for her? Could she swim her way off the deck and to safety?

  Would the current be strong this far from the ocean? Like a riptide or worse? She shoved the thoughts away and leaned back over, searching for Pamela. “We’re running out of time. Please, Pamela. Let me help you.”

  “It’s not going to swallow up the car, Daphne. Besides, as soon as I haul myself up there, the whole roof is liable to cave in. If you haven’t noticed, we’re not in the same weight class, hon.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Daphne held out her hand. “Please.”

  Pamela stared for a long moment at the water as it lapped at the tires of the car closest to the ramp. “Let me pull some things out of the back.”

  Daphne waited, forcing herself not to announce every time the water reached a new landmark: the wheel well of the other car, the bottom of the windows, the roof. Pamela didn’t seem to do well when faced with a sense of urgency. But every inch the water crept closer, Daphne struggled to stay quiet. If the other woman didn’t crawl up there soon, it would be too late.

  When the water tickled the closest parking stripe, she cleared her throat. “You about done, Pam? I think now’s a good time.”

  “I still think you’re blowing it out of proportion.” Her voice came out muffled by the roof. “It’s going to recede any minute now.”

  “Look around you,” Daphne responded in an urgent voice. “It’s going to fill the car soon. You need to get up here.”

  “And what happens when the water goes over the car’s roof?” Pamela emerged from the vehicle and stared up at Daphne, defiance in her eyes.

  She had a point. Daphne’s eyes darted around at the water now creeping up the sides of the tires. There was no escaping it. She had no idea how to answer Pamela’s question, but at least the roof was higher ground than the seats of the car.

  “Please, Pamela. Humor me.”

  “Fine. Just give me one second.” Pamela hoisted herself back into the passenger seat, one leg jutting out as she leaned over to reach for something. A garbled scream rose from inside the Jeep a moment later.

  Daphne rushed to the edge of the roof, fingers splayed across the maroon paint as she leaned over. Water flowed into the cab, flooding out the front and back seats. Pamela’s blouse floated in the murky brown waves.

  “Pamela!” Daphne cried out as she scrambled to her knees and stuck a hand down toward the other woman.

  Pamela stared up in shock. “The water is freezing. I didn’t expect—It’s moving so fast. I—I can’t feel the lower half of my body.”

  “Give me your hand,” Daphne urged, reaching for Pamela’s arm.

  Pamela linked her fingers to Daphne’s and tried to lift herself, but the water was like a funnel, suctioning around her, holding her down.

  “My leg—”

  “Shove the pain aside and pull yourself up,” Daphne commanded. “Come on. You’ve got this.”

  Daphne strained against the force of the current, pulling on Pamela’s arm with all her might. The woman didn’t budge. She tried again, sweat breaking out across her shoulder blades as she braced one palm on the roof and rose into a low squat. Using her legs, she pulled.

  It wasn’t enough.

  The water rose higher and higher, inching up Pamela’s torso to her collarbone. She fought to keep her chin above it.

  “Can you get out? Get out and swim?”

  “Maybe.” Pamela sobbed, her features tortured.

  Tears pricked Daphne’s eyes in response. There had to be something she could do. Something to save the woman. “Come on. Just go with the current. You can tread water. Maybe make it to one of the other vehicles. Climb aboard.

  Pamela nodded. Tears mixed with the flood water as it lapped across her cheeks. Daphne gave the woman’s hand one more squeeze before letting go. It took a few tries, with Pamela rocking forward and back as the water washed over her face, but at last, she emerged from the vehicle.

  Relief flooded Daphne, but it was short-lived. As soon as she was free, the current swept Pamela away, carrying her across the parking deck. Daphne screamed.

  “Pam! Pam, just keep swimming. Keep treading water!”

  A garbled wail carried across the water. Pamela flailed, arms jutting out before disappearing only to pierce the water and wave about. She wasn’t treading water. She was panicking.

  Drowning.

  Daphne called out again and again, trying to give instructions, encouragement. Anything. But it was no use. She watched in horror as the woman’s head dipped below the water. She popped up once, twice, but on the third time, she was gone.

  “Pamela?” Daphne cried as she slid to her knees on the roof of the car, her eyes searching the water for any sign of the woman. After countless minutes searching, Daphne sagged in defeat. Pamela was gone.

  As the shock wore off, a sob rose in Daphne’s chest and for once, she didn’t shove it down. She embraced it, wallowing in the heaving, stomach twisting grief. Her ribs ached, her throat burned and the tears flowed unending down her face.

  Was everyone in the building dead? What about the countless other buildings all around Seattle and Bellevue? She clambered back up and stood on the roof, searching for any sign of life.

  She inched forward and her toes met the ocean. She recoiled from the shock. Cold and thick, full of debris and mud and murk. The water wafted over the roof, not high enough to cover, but enough to soak her feet and keep her from sitting down.

  There was nowhere else to go. Nowhere else safe from the water. She was stranded.

  The sun eased lower and lower in the sky and at some point, Daphne noticed the water had stopped its relentless pursuit. The roof of the Jeep was wet, but not submerged, so at last, she eased down to sit. She sat in a daze, body and soul numb, mind a blank canvas.

  At last, the sun disappeared behind the damaged horizon, turning burnt orange as it set behind a building only half its original glory, the top floors now resting in a heap beneath the ocean surge. It was exquisite, almost painfully beautiful, and Daphne closed her eyes.

  She couldn’t bear to look at the pastel pinks and sherbet orange hues, the stalks of lavender painted across the sky. She didn’t deserve to see something so spectacular. To take part in the splendor of nature after what she’d just endured. After what she’d failed to do. Guilt scratched her throat and twisted her stomach, and she stared out at the now dark water, searching for any sign of Pamela.

  As dusk gave way to night, and the moon took up residence high and full above her, she spotted the woman. Or the hulking, floating shape of her corpse, at any rate. She bobbed in the water like a floatie in a suburban pool. Daphne turned away.

  Hunger rumbled in the tight knot of her stomach and Daphne longed for any scrap of comfort. A blanket, a cup of coffee, a text from her daughter. The thought of Mika brought a fresh wave of tears, but Daphne wiped them away. This was all her fault. She was sitting here, alone on top of a dead woman’s car because of what?

  Is this really what I wanted? To be all alone in this huge city of chaos and grief? The two people I care most about in the world hundreds of miles away?

  She had it all, and she destroyed it. They had fallen into routine in Port Angeles. Her the homemaker, Clint the breadwinner. And with Mika growing up so fast… Daphne had been adrift. Unmoored. And over the years, they had drifted apart. Stopped talking and sharing. Started living these independent lives like silos, like partners in the business of raising their child. Not husband and wife.

  She’d thought that meant they were no good for each other anymore. That she needed to move on, chase those dreams she’d had so long ago. But maybe… Maybe they’d both just stopped trying.

  In the past year how many times had they even spoken? Once? Twice? Now it was just impersonal texts, schedule coordination. She’d been lonely in Port Angeles, but she was lonely in Bellevue, too. Leaving Clint and Mika changed nothing. It only took a disaster and a flood and a car up to its neck in flood water for her to see it.

  She stared up at the moon, thoughts consumed with Mika and Clint. That they were safe. Unharmed. She had faith in her ex. He was an excellent, hands-on father. He would protect Mika. They were alive, she felt it deep in her soul.

  With her eyes on the sky, she fixed an image in her head of the pair at home, watching the moon from the serenity of their backyard. Clint’s arm slung over Mika’s shoulder as they laughed and reminisced and cried. After a deep breath, she dropped her head and clasped her hands together. They would be okay. They had to be. Daphne began to pray.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MIKA

  Mika sucked in a sharp breath and jolted upright as if lighting had ripped down her spine. Her skin was clammy and drenched in a cold sweat. Her hoodie clung to her back, damp from perspiration.

  It all came rushing back. The quake. The crash. Hampton. She reached out and cold rock lined the space behind her, not the snugness of her bed. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real life.

  She fumbled in front of her as she blinked the darkness back, attempting to focus in the moonlight. Her fingers flitted over the map and a random assortment of items from the backpack she’d been rummaging through. I must have fallen asleep.

  “Hampton? Hamp are you awake?”

  No response.

  Mika searched with her fingers until she found the small flashlight. She cranked the handle until the flashlight’s glow burned steady and the little alcove tucked beside the rocks illuminated.

  She found Hampton slumped over, a limp arm laying slack across her lap. “Hamp, wake up.” Mika reached for her best friend, grabbing the girl’s bare arm. It was colder than the night air.

  No. No, this isn’t happening.

  “Hampton!” Mika screamed as she hovered in front of her friend, willing her to rise. “Come on, stop fooling around.” Mika’s voice caught in her throat, the words dissolving as tears spilled over her lower lashes.

  She grabbed Hampton by the shoulders and pulled her close. The girl’s head lolled to the side, hanging at an unnatural angle like a puppet left to dangle by marionette strings. So cold. Why was she so cold?

  Cradling Hampton in her arms, Mika reached around to feel her neck, shoving the tangled mass of curls away, searching the hollows of her flesh for a pulse. Over and over she moved her fingers, jabbing deep into Hampton’s cold skin, praying for the faintest flutter.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks and landed hot in Hampton’s hair. “Please wake up. Please, Hamp. I need you. Please don’t leave me all alone out here. Please…” She trailed off, unable to contain her pain and heartache.

  Mika hugged Hampton’s body closer, pressing their hearts together, squeezing hard. Hampton loved bear hugs. She would laugh and squeal and pretend to escape, until they both collapsed in a fit of giggles. But now she just hung there. Sagging. Empty.

  A shell of her former self.

  How long had she slept while the life slowly drained from Hampton’s body? How long had it taken her best friend to die? Had she woken up? Called for Mika?

  Guilt wormed its way into Mika’s heart and lodged there. Guilt for falling asleep, for not checking on Hampton every few minutes, for not knowing how to treat her when she was obviously injured. She’d been so focused on finding a way off the mountain, on contacting her dad, that she hadn’t really considered Hampton’s injuries. Hadn’t really focused on her friend.

  Pain rubbed raw across the back of Mika’s throat and she wilted into Hampton’s limp form. How many times had Hampton tried to weasel out of the trip? How many times had Mika insisted she would love it? She barked out a tortured laugh.

  If it weren’t for her insistence, Hampton would be home right now, snug on the couch between her parents watching some rom com on the Hallmark Channel. She stilled.

  After a moment, she eased Hampton away and leaned her gently up against the rock. For the first time, she thought about more than the mountain. More than Olympic National Park. If the earthquake caused landslides and tremors so strong the road ripped apart, what did it do to Port Angeles? Seattle?

  We’re Hampton’s parents even alive? What about Mika’s? She tried to shut off the spiraling thoughts, but they wouldn’t retreat no matter how much she concentrated. Stuck five thousand feet above sea level in a National Park with no cell phone, Mika had no idea what was waiting for her when she finally made it back down.

  The death toll might be unimaginable. Port Angeles might be heaps of rubble. Seattle and Bellevue might be gone. Imaginary images paraded through her mind. Collapsed buildings. Buckled streets. Dead bodies.

  It was too much for Mika to bear. The idea of her parents being dead, of her being orphaned—well—it was simply incomprehensible.

  Mika blinked up through blurry tears to stare at the moon. Full and round and unobscured, it shone down on the forest, lighting up the ferns and rocks with a soft, silvery glow. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds all around her.

  A gentle rustle in the understory a few feet away. A swish-swish of the wind through the trees. Not everything was destroyed. Life went on in myriad ways all around her. With a hard sniff, Mika straightened up. She dug the ends of her palms into her eye sockets and rubbed away the last of her tears.

  She scooted next to Hampton’s body and snuggled against it before resting her head on Hampton’s chest and closing her eyes. “Remember when you got gum stuck in your hair and we tried to get it out with peanut butter?”