The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney (i wanna iguana read aloud TXT) 📕

be if we built something together—it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.”

I hope I’m subtle enough as I take a long, slow breath in.

“And is it always rewarding?” I say.

“Well,” she says. “If you were to ask Alex, he might have a less rosy view than I do.”

“Your intern Alex?” My next question comes a little slower. “What happened to him?”

That careful blankness smooths out her face again. “Sometimes the neighbors are born from something natural, like the flood. Sometimes, like Rudy, they exist because of human actions. Those neighbors—they take a stronger interest in us than others.” There’s a beat. “And just like Rudy was fixated on me, the neighbor that came to Alex was only interested in him. But unlike Rudy, he wasn’t there for anything good. And we couldn’t understand why. Not in time to make a difference.”

She doesn’t elaborate. I swallow down a sudden tightness in my chest. Not only at the thought of what might have happened to Alex. But at the question of why this ages-old force of nature considered me so particularly interesting.

Christie’s eyes flicker briefly to the walls, where the shadows have started to fill the boundaries of the room. “I believe these things have a right to be here. Maybe more right than we do. But that doesn’t mean Maggie Williams is wrong. Intentionally or not, some of them can be dangerous. And if they can’t live with us, then I can’t allow them to stay. And Rudy—well. He’s got a big appetite.”

“He . . . eats them?” I say, a little queasily.

Christie smiles humorlessly. “Let me put it this way. When Rudy first came to me, he had fifty arms. I counted. About a dozen good meals later? I can’t count anymore.”

He trills a little, weaving a long limb in and out of the space between her feet. It’s almost cute. But I can see the way he puffs himself up, just a little, in response to her words. In anticipation. His arms, many more than fifty, visibly twitch.

This, at the sheriff’s feet, is the fate that awaits my unwanted guest.

Well. I guess that’s up to me.

The soft, thoughtful lilt of Christie’s voice hardens, as if she knows what I’m thinking. “You’re going to hear a lot about what you should be doing. You don’t have to agree with me, or with anyone. But this is what I can tell you for sure: Rudy’s never gone against anything as big as what’s following you. I don’t think he stands a chance. This flood isn’t part of you the way Rudy is part of me, but they are following you. If there’s a fight, you may be in harm’s way. The way I see it, the best option we have is to talk to them—figure out why they’re here, try to convince them to stop. And that’s where you come in.”

I laugh queasily. “To do what, exactly?”

“Something older than humanity itself took an interest in you,” she says. “That’s not random. There’s something this flood needs to survive, too. Figure out what that is, and maybe you can communicate with them. They may not listen to you the way Rudy listens to me. But there’s a good chance no one’s tried to understand this thing in a long time.

“And on that note,” she says, “let’s talk about why you’re here.”

“Me?” I say. “I don’t—”

“It’s okay. You’re here because of that broadcast, you’ve made no secret of that,” she says, handing me her business card. “Two birds, one stone, honey. This building wasn’t always the elementary school, you know. You’re standing in what used to be the offices of Lotus Valley Community Radio.”

“All this,” I start. “What’s—”

“—the catch?” she drawls. “To get to the broadcast studio, you’ll need to use the basement stairs. I’ve asked someone I trust to wait there with the keys. And once you connect with her, wherever you go in this town, she goes with you. If you’re not with her, you’re with Felix or Alex, and even then, you tell her what you’re doing.”

“So you’re giving me a chaperone,” I say.

“Like I said”—she shrugs—“trust is earned.”

I almost don’t ask the next question. “Okay, so—say I do talk to them. Say I try to understand them. What if there’s nothing to understand? What if dangerous is all they are?”

The tendrils of the shadow start to curl. She, on the other hand, looks very still. “Rudy can help us clear this town in hours if we have to. I taught him to deal with stragglers, how to direct traffic. Hell, I even taught him how to pack a suitcase. I’m prepared to give you as much time as I possibly can. Focus on what you can do before it gets to that point. And try not to worry about what happens after that. That’s my job.”

She moves on, a little too quickly. “Oh, and Rose? I don’t need to know what you and the mayor talked about. I’m sure she gave you a lot to consider as well. Whatever you decide, could you tell us by the end of the day? I hate to rush you, but, you know.”

She tugs the blinds closed, and as the light recedes, so do the shadows. As she slings her parasol over her shoulder, I say, “I can do that.”

She hesitates, a half smile on her face. “Remember, basement stairs. Don’t get lost now.”

Her footsteps move briskly down the hall, steadily fading. I hear a faint thump that must be the front doors. Then, once again, it’s quiet.

I breathe out, and it echoes.

I glance over my shoulder, but the darkened classroom is all there is. No street. No neighborhood. No scene from my past.

For a second, I imagine a life of this flood following me. Maybe, like Rudy, they’ll slip into the boundaries of my shadow, waiting until the moment I lower a parasol. Maybe they’ll follow me a few paces back, like they are now. Slipping in and out of Sutton Avenue every time