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

“Mm,” you’ll say to a fixed point on the wall. “I guess not.”

Nineteen THE HOME AWAY FROM HOME

THE PATH AHEAD has split into two.

In one, the alleyway entrance to the Mockingbird’s office, undisturbed by the things set into motion at its core. In another, the kitchen of the Summers’ condo narrows to a sharp point, Nick Lansbury standing at the center.

The image of the kitchen holds for a moment. The light mist falling over both of us belongs on Sutton Avenue, not here. But it pools on the floor. It flows down the cabinets in rivulets. Nick’s hair is soaked, plastered to the sides of his face.

And closer than ever, that roar. I can make out another sound now. Something churning.

“Rose.”

The images overlap as I blink. The ground rising and flattening, pavement to tile, pavement to tile. The windows of the buildings around us shrinking and narrowing into cabinets. Nick, everywhere, no matter what I’m seeing. Everywhere as always.

“Rose.”

Like a screen door, the present moment slides back into place. We’re standing in Lotus Valley, Nevada: the door to the caverns behind us, faint signs of life from the street. But that cold, damp air engulfing me, the slight shift of the colors in the world like a winter day sapping the brightness of the sky—those don’t fully recede.

My fear is driving the memories I see. Whatever I’m feeling, we both feel it. And if I spin out, so does the Flood.

So calm down.

Sure. Thanks, Rose. What a revolutionary concept.

“Rose.”

My shoulders jerk upward. Cassie’s calling me. I heard her the first time. Did I not answer her the first time?

“Y-yeah,” I say. “I’m here.”

Not how I meant to say it. She notices, too.

Past her shoulder, Felix is saying something to Alex in a low voice. Alex nods sharply but doesn’t look up—he’s holding his palms down and flat in front of him, staring kind of wonderingly at his quivering hands. I know that look That look that says you didn’t realize how scared you were until just now.

Alex glances at me, over my shoulder. Which he probably can’t help. If I could see what he sees, I’d be staring, too.

Felix, on the other hand, is looking right at me.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Cassie says, “stop.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Felix’s mouth snaps shut briefly. “But maybe I should.”

“Felix—” Cassie starts.

“It’s okay.” My thoughts feel fractured, the way they always do after a panic attack. “Let him say it.”

Alex’s hand is still shaking as he takes Felix’s elbow. “This isn’t her fault.”

“I know. So you can all stop looking at me like that,” he says. “I’d still like to hear what happened down there.”

“Nothing that’s going to happen again,” I say. Nothing that can happen again. I could feel it that time, the full power of the Flood hanging over us. What would have happened if I hadn’t calmed down?

“The Flood hasn’t shown you someone else’s memories before, right?” Felix says. “Hell, they’ve never shown us anything before.”

“If they feel what I feel,” I say, “then I won’t do it again. I’ll control myself better.”

“Rose,” Felix huffs out, “do you understand what’s happening here? This thing is—”

“Dangerous?” I say faintly.

“Felix,” Alex says. “Give her a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute!” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “We barely have more than a day! How are we supposed to help if she can’t talk to us?”

“Maybe there’s no helping them.” There’s a crackling static down my spine. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Felix barks out a laugh. “First thing you’ve said that’s made any sense.”

“Listen to me.” There’s a bone-deep chill to Cassie’s voice. “If I can be calm about this, so can you.”

“Oh, well, if you say so,” Felix says. “If you’re going to tell us what you know, then tell us. Don’t expect us to take your word for it.”

“What I know,” Cassie says in a low shiver, “would break you in half. So do yourself a favor and drop it.”

There’s a long stalemate, none of us quite willing to come close to eye contact. Finally, Alex clears his throat.

“I think we could use a break,” he says. A little more pointedly to Felix, he adds, “I could use a break.”

“Fine.” Felix clears his throat and straightens. “I’ll drive you back to the station.”

Cassie’s arm slides into mine. The edge in her voice hasn’t quite left. “We’re going to walk.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Felix doesn’t look at me at first, as he passes. But before he turns the corner, I hear him mutter, “Sorry.”

Alex doesn’t say anything. But the look he gives me before he slips out of sight is—kind of soft. Scared, too, but mostly soft. I think that’s what it looks like to have someone afraid for you.

Don’t get lost in your own head. That was supposed to be my rule. But this isn’t all in my head, is it? Not anymore.

—

IT’S A CLEAR, dry day outside. If this is the second to last day of Lotus Valley’s life, at least it’s a nice one.

We pass Paul’s Pawn and Loan, and there’s a line stretched around the corner; people shifting their worldly possessions in their arms as they wait to lighten their evacuation load. Across the street, Theresa leans against the side of the garage. She doesn’t notice us. She’s too busy watching the procession.

Cassie walks in step with me, careful not to crowd but close enough that any onlookers will know I’m with her. She takes a swig of her water bottle, then hands it to me.

“I should apologize,” she says as I’m drinking. I almost choke.

“For what?” I sputter. There’s only one harbinger of destruction in this conversation, and it’s not her.

“That night at the diner. You told me about your PTSD,” she says. She either doesn’t notice the flinch or ignores it. “I haven’t thought about how this must be affecting you. The things you must be seeing. And I’m sorry for