Eric Dimbleby - White Out

He was a motherfuckin’ family man now.

The pride was almost unbearable.

Edgar stood up from the bed, walking towards the window, curious about the strange sounds outside, which had leaked into his dream. Pulling back the shades, he peered out into the shiny abyss of the day. Across the street, one of the surviving neighbors was hanging their head out the window, waving a white tee-shirt, cheerfully shouting something that Edgar couldn’t hear through the window pane.

The quiet slug of rushing water filled his head, almost to the point that he thought his ears might start bleeding. The sound was coming from all over, from the top of the street to the bottom, driving him instantly mad.

“It’s meltin’. Jesus H, it’s melting like a motherfucker!” he said, unable to hold back the shout that was welling up in his belly. He’d survived. He’d survived the storm and everything was going to be as right as rain now.

He could hear the sewers gushing, filling and spilling and spewing, unable to keep up with the rapid melt. Edgar pulled up on the window, undoing the safety notches that Yuppie One and Yuppie Two had put in place for the kid (Edgar suddenly couldn’t remember his son’s name— Johnny? Louie? ). The bubbling din of melting and water rushing grew louder as the window was opened, although Edgar couldn’t have imagined it being any louder than it already was. From across the road, he could hear the gleeful neighbor shouting out in rejoice, apparently relieved by the temperatures that this morning had delivered unto them.

Better get to freezin’ up again , thought Edgar. Or we all gon’ get drowned like sick fuckin’ rats .

Edgar instinctively quoted an excerpt from The Good Book. Jesus was a magical man, and he executed his plans in ways that man didn’t quite see fit. Everything happened once, and it would always happen again and again, such was the universe. Fuckin’ aye right, that’s how Edgar lived and breathed. Jesus was a bad dude—hell, he IS a bad dude—and he’s comin’ to collect us , thought Edgar, trying to resist the urge to jump up and down like a silly child with too much sugar in his gut.

He said, “By faith, Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark to the saving of his house; by the which he condemned the world, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith.” Pausing to study the strangely warm air drifting in through the window, Edgar added, “A righteous man runs a righteous house. Settle in. Settle up.”

He was a father.

A caretaker. A carpenter.

A provider. A destroyer.

A lover. Oh, yes, he was a lover.

Edgar looked over at the crumpled sheets and blankets on the bed. After he checked in on his new family, he’d get her to make the bed up proper. It would be their consummation, as soon as she was ready to do that deed. Edgar felt his heart thudding. Ever since he had seen that family photo, he’d fantasized about her. And here he was, waking up with the nastiest of hangovers, and she was waiting for him… in the basement? Yes, the basement. He remembered now. He’d stuck her down in the basement. He tried to picture her sitting on the little couch down there, with no panties or pants on, legs spread, looking at him with simmering eyes.

He looked down at his sweatpants, where a tiny hump protruded, begging to be set free.

Two snakes. Two lizards. Two ducks. Two mosquitos.

Once upon a time, a man named Noah created a boat. He created a boat to save mankind, to save the concept of purity, of living beings that mated in the name of perseverance. Such was the game of survival.

Two tigers. Two whales. Two kittens. Two leeches.

Edgar hung his head out the window, smiling as he stared down the reveling neighbor from across the street, a chubby man with a burly beard. The man pulled his head back inside the window and retreated. He was scared of Edgar for some reason (perhaps because the man didn’t yet know that Edgar belonged in this house), but there was nothing to fret over. Edgar was hoping to make friends with the man soon enough, once all this damn snow melted.

Two lions. Two bears. Two geckos. Two jellyfish.

He looked into the wet snow banks to the left of the house, where the mailman’s head was just emerging. He reconsidered the burly neighbor’s frightful retreat and now it made more sense. He’d seen the mailman. Edgar hadn’t buried the fucker deep enough. If he didn’t take care of that blight on the eye, and then the nosy fucking neighbor as well, then people would start asking questions. His wife might start asking questions. His son (Bobby? Marty?) would start asking questions, the twerp.

“Well isn’t that a shame,” he growled, staring at the mailman’s half-frozen head.

Two mushrooms. Two houseflies. Two sloths. Two humans.

Using a few pieces of steel lawn furniture that Christian had left outside over the winter, Annie had managed a makeshift ladder on to the shallow, sloping roof of the garage. It was incredibly wobbly, but strong enough to get them some elevation. Getting higher than the water was the only way they would beat this thing.

As soon as Paulie was up on to the roof with her, struggling to keep his footing, the lawn furniture was caught up in the rush, swept back into their fenced in backyard. Chunks of ice careened by, clattering against the eaves of the garage’s roof. Annie wanted to swear at the terror of this alteration in their world, but she needed to spare Paulie of any further frightful thoughts. Her fear would heighten his fear and that could lead to panic. She breathed slowly, calming herself in the only way she knew how, hoping to set an example for her baby boy.

The roof, though, was not high enough. They needed more elevation. They needed to get as high as they could, possibly to the main part of the house’s roof. Or—

Into the trees. She hated climbing trees and was quite terrible at it when she was a child, but it was their best bet. They would need a sturdy tree, and luckily enough there was one only a short distance away from them.

For the past two years, she’d warned Christian about the thick oak tree that was rubbing up against the side of the garage: One day you’re going to walk out there and find that it’s ripping shingles off the roof, or burrowing into the side of the house. It’s too close and it has no signs of rotting. You’ll have to deal with that old tree sooner, rather than later. Knock it down Christian. Knock it down!

He had protested, then dragged his feet, protested some more, and then forgot about the proposed venture altogether. When she reminded him of the tree on one occasion, the scene had escalated into a full-on war, digging up every chore he had ever failed to complete, as he dug his nails into her as well, coaching her on her lack of tact and appreciation. They’d nearly exploded, each in their own way, so Annie hadn’t brought up the damn tree again.

Now, that tree was their only chance to escape drowning in an icy grave. Annie felt a pang of guilt. She couldn’t have known. This was just how things happened… she couldn’t have ever known.

“Stay here, baby. Don’t move your feet. If you lose your footing, I can’t help you. You understand?” she asked Paulie. He nodded, looking as if he might start to cry at any moment. “Bend down and put your butt against the roof until I’m ready for you. I’m going across.” He nodded again, hunching himself down into a tight package, putting his weight back against the roof. He had better instincts than she would have expected. Paulie was a natural survivor, just like her. This thought dawned on her and it gave her heart warmth and the power to go on.