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peered out from behind her.  
    “I want to go outside.”  
    “Not now, Dylan. Quiet.” She must have seen the expression on my face because her tone was concerned. “What’s wrong?”  
    I started to speak, but wasn’t sure how to verbalize what I’d just seen or how it made me feel. “Try calling 911,” I said. “Thena’s place is flooding. The water’s up to her front door and they can’t get out.”  
    “Oh my God. Are the kids okay?”  
    “I don’t know.”  
    “I want to see,” Dylan insisted. “Please, Mommy? Let me go see.”  
    Marlena and I both told him no at the same time. She shooed Dylan away from the door. Pouting, he plopped down in the living room and returned to his trains. Marlena ran off to try the phone, while I shrugged out of my wet coat and shoes and toweled Sanchez dry. He shook, spraying the kitchen with water, and then trotted off to check his food dish. Now that he was inside, he seemed no longer concerned with the thing we’d seen near the creek.  
    I wished that I could shrug it off just as easily.  
    I hurried into the bedroom and felt around on the top shelf of the closet until I found the handgun. I kept it locked in a box, and I had the only key. You can’t be too sure these days. It wouldn’t do for Dylan to get his hands on it. The only other items in the lockbox were the owner’s manual, a cleaning cloth, and a small container of bullets. The Taurus held five shots. I loaded it with trembling fingers and clicked the cylinder back into place. Instead of a manual safety, it had a special key that unlocked the activation pin. I turned the key and then stuffed the revolver into my back pocket. Even though it was small, it felt big and bulky back there. I put the lockbox back on the shelf. I didn’t bother with my father’s rifle because I had no bullets for it. I hadn’t been hunting since I was fourteen, and I kept the weapon strictly out of sentimentality. It was an heirloom. My father had loved that gun, and had shot many deer with it over the years.  
    Marlena walked into the bedroom as I was closing the closet door. I quickly pulled my shirttail over my pants, hoping she wouldn’t see the gun and start asking questions. I don’t know why I wanted to hide the truth from her, but I did. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what the truth was. Maybe because I’d just been confronted by something that shattered my illusions of protecting her and Dylan—just like the storm that had preceded it. I wanted them to think I could keep them safe, and if they found out what was going on, they’d know I couldn’t.  
    “The phones are still down,” she said. “And there’s only one bar on the cell phone.”  
    “Keep trying. I’ve got to go.”  
    “Where?”  
    “Jeff and I are going to try to help Thena.”  
    “Be careful.”  
    “I will.”  
    She didn’t try to talk me out of it. Sometimes, I wish she had. If she’d tried, maybe I’d feel differently about things now. If I’d stayed inside with her and Dylan, instead of returning to the creek, maybe the world wouldn’t have intruded upon us.  
    But I didn’t stay inside. Instead, I got back into my wet raingear. A car horn blared as I slipped my boots on, and I glanced out the window. Jeff’s Dodge truck sat idling in our driveway. As I walked to the door, Dylan and Sanchez clamored to go with me, but I made them both stay inside. I gave Dylan and Marlena a quick kiss, told Sanchez to sit, and then stepped out onto the porch.  
    “Be careful,” Marlena repeated.  
    “I will,” I promised her again, sounding anything but confident.  
    She shut the door behind me. It sounded very loud—and final.  
    I hurried over to the truck and climbed up into the passenger seat. Warm air blew across my feet, and my glasses fogged up again. Waylon Jennings played softly, singing about how this outlaw bit had done got out of hand. I asked Jeff why he didn’t have the local radio station