Page 33 of Falling For Alaska

“Can’t say I have.” The rain falls harder against the window while we keep enjoying our break. When we leave, Sherry gives us a cheerful, “Stay safe, girls,” waving as we step out. Bella blows me a kiss and I catch it before heading in opposite directions, because hugging isn’t something we do anymore. Not since the incident. Isn’t it strange how just a few minutes can split your life in two? Before. After. And no matter how hard you try, you can never wash it away.

“Call me, alright? Anytime.”

“I promise,” I tell her. Heading back to my shop, I check the windows and unplug everything, then return home to wait out the storm. One question lingers, playing over and over in my mind.

Will Jack be safe out there?

Chapter Twelve

JACK

It's a disaster.

Saying we were prepared is the understatement of the century. A tornado ripping through Lakeside, winds howling like something out of a nightmare, rain coming down so hard rivers and lakes are overflowing. Trees have collapsed across roads, blocking access for ambulances. I’ve lost count of how many elderly folks I’ve had to carry out of their homes, water rising past their knees.

After hours spent hauling people to safety, checking homes, and making sure no one’s been left behind, the power finally gives out. Lakeside is plunged into complete darkness, the only light coming from emergency vehicles and the occasional flicker of lightning tearing across the sky. The rain doesn’t let up, slamming against my face every time I step out of the car.

More firefighters are on our way, but for now, we keep going. All of us are still moving through the streets, answering every call that comes in. A pregnant woman was stranded alone in her house, and we got to her just in time. Families panicking over the rising water, we helped them out and drove them to a gymnasium where we’ve set up an emergency area. Everyone we find, we get to safety.

No casualties so far.

For now.

But the night isn’t over.

And you know the worst of it?

Is that despite running around all day, the only thing churning in my mind has been Alaska. Is she safe? Does she need help? Jared told me first thing in the morning that his sister had offered her to stay at his family's place, but she had declined it. I didn’t even ask; he just told me, like he knew I needed to know. My eyelids are closing a bit too much, as I try battling fatigue after a sleepless night of thinking about her, and her lips, her and her long hair, her and her voice, and the way she moves, and how her feminine shapes aren’t that disguised under her sweaters. I spent the whole night imagining what she would feel like until it made me so insane I had to get up and go to work way sooner than I was called for. All I know is that her area of Lakeside isn’t flooded.

She’s home.

Safe.

Probably reading. I mean, of course she's reading, no doubt about that. And, if anything had happened, surely I would have known through Jared, right? I thought I could carry on until the power turned off at seven pm. A quick search through our software found her address.

Alaska Jenkins.

49 Willow Bend Road

I reach for my radio.

"Unit 17 to 21."

There's a crackle, then Jared’s voice comes through. "Go for 21."

"I’m heading to Willow Bend, checking on a resident." I pause, a lump in my throat.

"Copy that. Resident’s name?"

"Jenkins."

Another pause, then, "Figured, thought you’d never say,” he chuckles, “you need backup?"

"Negative. Just a welfare check.”

"Keep me posted."

"Will do." I clip the radio back to my vest and tighten my grip on the wheel. The roads are slick, branches scattered across the asphalt, and the wind still hasn’t let up. I press down on the gas, my heart strangely hammering against my ribs. She probably doesn't want anything to do with me, but I just need to check on her. I just need to make sure she’s safe.