Forty signs of rain - Kim Stanley Robinson [140]
Charlie said, “I’ll take Mass. Ave. then.”
“Or maybe you can get them to drop you off west of Rock Creek, in Georgetown. Anyway, be careful. Don’t do anything rash just to get here quick.”
“I won’t. I’ll make sure to stay safe, and I’ll call you regularly, at least I hope. That was awful being cut off.”
“I know.”
“Okay, well…I don’t really want to hang up, but I guess I should. Let me talk to the boys first.”
“Yeah good. Here talk to Joe, he’s been pretty upset that you’re not here, he keeps asking for you. Demanding you, actually—here,” and then suddenly in his ear:
“Dadda?”
“Joe!”
“Da! Da!”
“Yeah Joe, it’s Dad! Good to hear you, boy! I’m down at work, I’ll be home soon buddy.”
“Da! Da!” Then, in a kind of moan: “Wan Daaaaaaaaaa.”
“It’s okay Joe,” Charlie said, throat clenching. “I’ll be home real soon. Don’t you worry.”
“Da!” Shrieking.
Anna got back on. “Sorry, he’s throwing a fit. Here, Nick wants to talk too.”
“Hey, Nick! Are you taking care of Mom and Joe?”
“Yeah, I was, but Joe is kind of upset right now.”
“He’ll get over it. So what’s it been like up there?”
“Well you see, we got to burn those big candles? And I made a big tower out of the melted wax, it’s really cool. And then Drepung and Rudra came and brought their tigers, they’ve got one in their truck and one in our basement!”
“That’s nice, that’s very cool. Be sure to keep the door to the basement closed by the way.”
Nick laughed. “It’s locked Dad. Mom has the key.”
“Good. Did you get a lot of rain?”
“I think so. We can see that Wisconsin is kind of flooded, but there are still some cars going in it. Most of the big stuff we’ve only seen on the TV. Mom was really worried about you. When are you going to get home?”
“Soon as I can.”
“Good.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess you get a few days off school out of all this. Okay, give me your mom back. Hi babe.”
“Listen, you stay put until some really safe way to get home comes.”
“I will.”
“We love you.”
“I love you too. I’ll be home soon as I can.”
Then Joe began to wail again, and they hung up.
Charlie rejoined the others and told them his news. Others were getting through on their cell phones as well. Everyone was talking. Then there came yells from down the hall.
A police motor launch was at the second-floor windows, facing Constitution, ready to ferry people to dry ground. This one was going west, and yes, would eventually dock in Georgetown, if people wanted off there. It was perfect for Charlie’s hope to get west of Rock Creek and then walk home.
And so, when his turn came, he climbed out the window and down into the big boat. A stanza from a Robert Frost poem he had memorized in high school came back to him suddenly:
It went many years, but at last came a knock,
And I thought of the door with no lock to lock…
The knock came again, my window was wide;
I climbed on the sill and descended outside.
He laughed as he moved forward in the boat to make room for other refugees. Strange what came back to the mind. How had that poem continued? Something something; he couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. The relevant part had come to him, after waiting all these years. And now he was out the window and on his way.
The launch rumbled, glided away from the building, turned in a broad curve west down Constitution Avenue. Then left, out onto the broad expanse of the Mall. They were boating on the Mall.
The National Gallery reminded him of the Taj Mahal; same water reflection, same gorgeous white stone. All the Smithsonian buildings looked amazing. No doubt they had been working inside them all night to get things above flood level. What a mess it was going to be.
Charlie steadied himself against the gunwale, feeling so stunned that it seemed he might lose his balance and fall. That was probably the boat’s doing, but he was, in all truth, reeling. The TV images had been one thing, the actual reality another; he could scarcely believe his eyes. White clouds danced overhead in the blue sky, and the flat brown lake was gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting a blue