Mac's Fear

There were probably some looters taking advantage of the lull. They hadn’t seen the sheriffs out here, their precinct was out near the bridge, meaning they were probably handling the problems there. When Leslie was making her way into Nathan’s neighborhood, which was on West Avenue, she could see the sheriff’s department closing off the bridge and redirecting traffic and emergency services. But it was expected as the river flooded and using the bridge was a danger some people would ignore, so it was always a priority during these kinds of storms and those hooligans knew it. She would exhale and lift the car at its wheel, pushing to heave it aside. She was a strong woman, wrestling a hobby of hers, and handling the livestock on her farm. She was fairly formidable, but she could only jostle the car enough to separate the vehicle from Mac. Jon rushed to the old man’s side and supported his body so he didn’t dump into the high waters.

“We’ll meet you at Misha’s at noon, I’ll ask Annie, next door, to watch the kids.” Nathan dismissed before heading in with Nikki, who tossed Jon her twirl baton.

“You never know!” She laughed as the younger man caught it.

Jon shrugged and headed out towards the bus stop.

None of the buses were running. The streets were flooded and many vehicles had been abandoned, some cars unable to take the flood waters, their engines struggling in the deep waters. Even on the curb Jon was shin deep, where the streets themselves would cut up to his knees. He wasn’t surprised as many of the people in town had cars, unlike those like Nathan’s family who had three kids, or Leslie’s family who did heavy work at the farm. Jon wasn’t going to get anywhere. Without the buses running it took at least a half hour walk to get into the main part town, only fifteen minutes by car. What was he going to do? As he lamented his situation a loud honking caught his attention as a pick-up truck came rolling to a stop by the curb: washing up a small deluge of water onto Jon’s already soaked pants. The tinted windows of the truck rolled down.

“Speak of the devil...“ Jon ironically noted.

Leslie sat with her arm hanging from the truck’s window. She was wearing overalls and a flannel shirt underneath. Her long, curly hair was tied back, the fedora parked on top as usual. By the blotches of dried mud on her forearms and face she was likely helping out keeping her family’s farm from flooding as, unlike with some of the others farther out: Leslie’s family farm was just across the river so they were used to the flooding and had to often move their livestock from their pens into the barn, which was built on higher ground.

She flexed her forearm. “Pigs got out, but I found you instead. You okay?” She motioned her hand to the passenger side and unlocked the door.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, or deny the insistent Leslie: Jon knew to get into the truck. As he closed the door he shook his head. “Worried about Pa-kun, he wasn’t on the bus with us yesterday.”

Leslie started the truck and easily pushed past the abandoned cars along the road, the waters giving no issues to it as the wheels kept its engines safely out of harm’s way. “You’re right. I hadn't noticed. He lives with his nan while going to school right?” In the off season on his family’s dairy farm Pa-kun stayed with his nana who lived on the same street as Nathan, so he should have gotten on the bush with them that day.

Leslie’s truck plowed through the streets. Everything seemed so desolate. The waters weren’t going down and while some flooding was normal, this was way beyond the usual storm. Some shops had not bothered to close as lights were still on from the night before. More and more cars were piled in the middle of the road, making it hard for Leslie to maneuver as they arrived on Main Street. It was almost completely silent save for the sound of rushing water, reminiscent of a brook. The truck came to a sudden stop, jerking Jon forward in his seat.

“Oh no.” Leslie snapped her door open, having not bothered to snap in her seatbelt. “Jon!” She called out as the man scrambled to remove his belt and slide out of the truck into a river of water.

Ahead of them, pinned between two cars, was old Mac from the Arcade. He was a diminutive man, barely crossing the four and a half foot mark. They said he was a native to some island country which accounted for his darker skin and loud personality. The two rushed through the knee-high waters, though for the taller Leslie it was just a quick wade between a few parked cars. Jon and her reached the vehicles, reaching out to check the older man who was slumped over the hood of the car.

“Mac!” Jon called, reaching out to touch the man’s shoulder, but as soon as he did Mac’s eyes snapped open and he swung a heavy wrench in the young man’s direction, hitting him straight in the shoulder. “What the hell!?” He shouted out, holding onto his arm.

Leslie reached out to grab the man’s fist, which clenched dangerously to the weapon. “Mac, it’s us!” She called, trying to snap the old man out of his stupor. “What happened?!” He was cold to the touch. He must have been out here for hours.

“Get away! Yer one of ’em!” Mac would accuse as he started to struggle, a burst of energy rousing him into a fit of fight or flight. He was crossed between both as he swung the wrench around while trying to free himself from the metal prison.

“No, Mac!” Jon tried to warn. “If you struggle--!” He could make the damage worse.

Both struggled to pull the wrench from his hand before the old man started to sob. “Donde el diablo puso la mano, queda huella para rato.” He muttered in his native tongue before he collapsed against the hood of the car. Leslie clutched her hand around Mac’s wrist. She could feel his heartbeat, but barely.

“He’s freezing Jon!” She looked around, spotting the Arcade. The door was ajar. “We gotta move the cars and bring him inside.” She called out to her friend, who nodded.

“What do I do?” He wasn't sure he was strong enough to push a car.

“Just hold his head over the water while I--” She moved to grip the side of the car and secure her boots against the asphalt below, but as she did wild howling was heard in the distance, followed by shattering glass.

There were probably some looters taking advantage of the lull. They hadn’t seen the sheriffs out here, their precinct was out near the bridge, meaning they were probably handling the problems there. When Leslise was making her way into Nathan’s neighborhood, which was on West Avenue, she could see the sheriff’s department closing off the bridge and redirecting traffic and emergency services. But it was expected as the river flooded and using the bridge was a danger some people would ignore, so it was always a priority during these kinds of storms and those hooligans knew it. She would exhale and lift the car at its wheel, pushing to heave it aside. She was a strong woman, wrestling a hobby of hers, and handling the livestock on her farm. She was fairly formidable, but she could only jostle the car enough to separate the vehicle from Mac. Jon rushed to the old man’s side and supported his body so he didn’t dump into the high waters.

With Leslie’s help they were able to drag his limp body towards the Arcade where water was still pouring from the bathrooms, filling the arcade with a foul, rotting sewage odor. Jon pulled their arm over their nose, trying desperately to quell the invasive, eye-watering stench. Leslie gagged a bit, but it wasn't the worst thing she’s smelled. They looked around, some of the machines had been knocked over, but none looked on. In fact most of the power in the Arcade was off save for the emergency lights meaning the switches were likely tripped.