Chagrin Falls

1.
A guy knew a guy who was friends with someone partnered with a land developer. The first guy was an ER doc who was pals with Dr. Reis. The land developer was promoting a new golf course upstate near a town called Chagrin Falls. Dr. Reis had a coupon for cart rental and a voucher for the pro shop. The resort wanted to attract the right kind of customers. The web-site advertised the course as "challenging" with "bunkers and ponds ready to swallow errant shots" and "picturesque tees overlooking generous fairways that play harder than they look." Dr. Reis was booked to attend a conference on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, an annual event at another excellent golf course and, when he googled Chagrin Falls, a place to which he had never traveled, he was pleased to see that the property was about midway between his home and the conference venue located on the peninsula jutting into the lake. He sent a message to his nurse informing her that he was leaving a day early for his annual PTSD seminar, had her clear his calendar, and, then, booked two rooms at the Chagrin Falls resort. Dr. Reis had invited his girlfriend, Nurse Norman, to accompany him to the three day conference (now extended by another night). Nurse Norman's divorce was only six weeks post-decree and she was obliged to bring her eight-year old daughter, Zazie, with her. For appearances' sake, Dr. Reis booked two adjacent rooms both at Chagrin Falls and the resort on the peninsula.

2.
The morning was dark and stormy with oppressive, sepulchral clouds pressing down on the horizon. Dr. Reis was sweating as he loaded Nurse Norman's suitcases into the back of his black Mercedes Benz GLE. As is always the case with women, Nurse Norman's luggage was very heavy, so tightly packed that it seemed ready to explode. Zazie had a duffle-bag that was lighter, even limp -- the duffle bag was decorated with the logo Skull Kandy. They drove toward the place where greenish columns of falling rain anchored the clouds to the wet, steamy ground.  The corn and soy beans hissed in the falling rain. Zazie listened to music through ear buds plugged into a little I-Pod. Dr. Reis and Nurse Norman gossiped about people at work.

3.
Dr. Reis was explaining to Zazie that warm air could hold more water and, therefore, more energy. He tried to visualize an equation to this effect. Zazie had taken out one ear-bud, holding it cupped in her hand. The other ear bud was still in place and her music continued playing.  The sky hurtled past clotted with big, bluish-black tumors, some of them spitting rain. At the bottom of the clouds, tassels of dark fog spun like tops.

4.
The rain smashed into fields already soaking. The freeway median filled and became a lagoon between lanes. The downpour overwhelmed the windshield wipers. The black wiper-edges sliced across blurry sheets of water drowning the car.

5.
The rain stopped for a moment, vacuumed up into the bulging black clouds overhead. They saw the wind before they felt it. A shabby-looking semi-truck in the oncoming lane swerved left, then, overcorrected and jack-knifed into the ditch. Dr. Reis felt the impact of the squall on the side of his

GLE and the vehicle rocked like a cradle on its wheels. Nurse Norman looked over her shoulder at the crashed truck: "Do you suppose we should stop?" she asked.  "It's across the median and the water     looks hip-deep there," Dr. Reis said. "Besides, my trauma skills are pretty rusty," he added. Nurse Norman shrugged:  "I  just had a refresher  on CPR."  "I'm pretty sure no one's hurt," Dr. Reis said.   "How do you know?" Nurse Norman asked. "I guess, I don't," Dr. Reis admitted. The point was moot anyway. They had now gone a half-mile past the wreck, the wind still howling and trying to kick the Mercedes Benz off the road.  Then, the rain fell in blinding torrents.  "How can you see?" Nurse  Norman said.  "I can see okay," Dr. Reis said, tightly gripping the steering wheel and leaning forward so that his nose was only a foot from the sluice of rain on the windshield. A siren sounded and some lights flashed past them in the oncoming lane.  Then, Dr. Reis felt the big SUV hydro-plane under him,  a sickening sensation as if the vehicle were skidding over ice. He took his foot off the gas and the tires caught suddenly on the concrete, ramming the car across the line into the passing lane. Dr. Reis saw a grotto of over-pass ahead and steered for that shelter.  Breathing heavily, he yanked on his emergency lights and glided to a stop in the dry, hollow cave under the bridge.  "That's a relief," Nurse Norman said. "It's a little hairy," Dr. Reis admitted. He rolled down his window and sipped some wet air.  The  rain thundered on the bridge deck above and fell in white curtains over the edges of the over-pass. He slowed his windshield wipers. A few cars sloshed by, although a pick-up pulled in ahead of them, also huddling under the bridge. Dr. Reis fiddled with the radio. Flooding was all about and tornados and golf-ball-sized hail.  Across the median, three motorcyclists had stopped.  They looked soaked to the skin. The motorcyclists passed a pipe between them.  After about ten minutes, the storm seemed to subside. The cataracts of falling water descending from the bridge deck became lacy plumes of white spray.  Dr. Reis edged the Mercedes Benz back onto the freeway. About a mile down the road, they passed fields that were glittering and resplendent with white shards of hail.

6.
Chagrin Falls was 13 miles away. Dr. Reis took the exit and drove up to the crest of the hill overlooking the town. The trees on the hillcrest were all split down the middle. It was as if a giant hand had reached down from the sky, seized the crown of the trees and, then, twisted them until they broke into bright, blonde wood, the color under the bark like timber in a lumber-yard. The town was in a bowl-shaped valley, surrounded by turbulent-looking lakes.

7.
The water was high under the bridge at the edge of town. A caramel-colored torrent veined with foam and rafts of shattered trees sucked against the concrete piers under the span. Wan sunlight probed slits    in the clouds. The heat was smothering, air all fury with humidity and hard to breathe. Another storm  was massing to the west, black thunderheads waltzing cheek to cheek.  Dr. Reis rolled down his   window and sniffed the hot, wet air. Big puddles iridescent with oil were pooled at intersections where  the storm sewers were clogged.   Sidewalks were littered with twigs and crooked sticks, branches clad   in green leaves flipped over to show their pale undersides.  On every block, trees were down, resting  aghast on wet lawns above writhing masses of roots. Long, charred-looking javelins of bare wood, branches dead before the wind had pulled them down, lay on the grass or tilted across fences or drowned in the flooded gutters. Aluminum cans skittered across the pavement like cockroaches and  plastic milk jugs and water bottles were strewn about -- the garbage cans had all fallen on their sides   and, then, rolled, hurling refuse onto the pavement. On several occasions, Dr. Reis had to gingerly navigate around big plastic garbage bins. A fallen tree had pinned a car to its driveway and shrubbery  was all plastered with wet paper, tattered shingles, and pieces of shredded lathe.  On the main   commercial thoroughfare, billboards  had been flayed by the wind and the signs of several fast food
places were knocked sideways. The metal awnings over the fuel pumps at a convenience store had tilted to the side and blocked access to gas and diesel. Dr. Reis nervously looked at his gas gage, drove another couple blocks, and, then, pulled into a Kwik Trip that didn't seem damaged. The pumps were working and he filled the tank on his SUV. Nurse Norman went into the gas station and found that the lights were off. The manager had a calculator his hand and was stooped over his cash register, scribbling transactions on a yellow pad. It was already sweltering in the convenience store. A line of four angry-looking men were waiting to buy ice in 25 pound bags.  They shifted back and forth on their heels as the ice cradled in their arms chilled them. Nurse Norman mentioned the gloom in the store and the heat. "Power is out all over town, all over the county," the manager said. She bought an energy drink for herself - she had pulled a double shift the night before - and a Sprite for Zazie. She wasn't entirely sure what kind of soda Dr. Reis drank and so she bought him a bottle of Aqua-Fina water.

8.
It had become very still. Trees and bushes crouched against the vapor skidding overhead. Despite the roiling sky, not so much as a leaf moved. Far away, thunder was rolling in long, rumbling peals. The sound was continuous like a heavy train lurching over an irregular right-of-way.   The road on which   they drove ran past the Hospital. An ambulance had just lurched to a stop next to the emergency room door. Three men were setting up a white tent next to a helipad painted with a yellow bulls-eye. Nurse Norman glanced sideways at Dr. Reis. He was aware of her eyes turned in his direction, but pretended  not to notice.

9.
The resort was tucked under a steep hillside. Pines and sumac clung to the slope and slate cliffs were wild and green with ivy. A creek had undercut the hill, swollen now and spilling out over several fairways. A cracked tree had split and splashed its crown down on the grass next to the resort office. "This doesn't look promising," Dr. Reis said. "Is this where we're staying tonight?" Zazie asked. "At least the buildings are all upright and still standing," Nurse Norman said. Sirens wailed in town and thunder growled and black clouds fused together to the west and still there was no breath of air moving anywhere: the hydrangeas along the sidewalk leading into the office were motionless and the sumac on the hill was still as a photograph and the darkness gathering in the groves of trees and the glades next to the flooded water traps was inert, massive, like a predator waiting to pounce.  Zazie stood by the back of the SUV waiting for Dr. Reis to drag out the luggage.  "Let's wait," he said.  "1’l1 go inside and check in." Some flashlights were bobbing up and down in the interior shadows, rays of light piercing the gloom in the club house lobby.  Heat crushed down on him, stagnant, bitter with the smell of sewage and rot. Dr. Reis went to the desk where a girl wearing a resort tee-shirt was lurking in the shadows. "May I check in?" he asked. "No," she said. "What do you mean 'no'?" Dr. Reis replied. "I have reservations." "There's no power," the girl said. "I can't check anyone into their rooms." "But I have reservations," Dr. Reis said. "I don't have any way to check any one into the rooms," the girl repeated, adding again: "there's no electricity." Dr. Reis asked: "Well, when will the power be restored?" The girl shrugged: "I can't say. It could be tomorrow. It could be a week." "A week?"
The girl reluctantly nodded her head. "I suppose I could play 18 holes and, then, check on the status..." Dr. Reis said. "No, we can't let anyone on the course," the girl said. "The ground is saturated.  The carts will sink into the grass and ruin the fairways and tees." "But I have a voucher for a cart rental," Dr. Reis said. "I can't do anything," the girl said. "Then, you'll have to cancel the reservation," Dr.
Reis said. "I can't cancel any reservations," the girl replied. "What?" "There's no power," the girl repeated: "The computers don't work." "But you have to cancel the reservation," Dr. Reis said. "No can do," the girl said. "The power is out." "Who is your manager, Missy?" Dr. Reis asked. "You 
don't need to sexually harass me," the girl said, indignantly. "Sexually harass?" "Yes," the girl said. "I want to talk to the manager," Dr. Reis said. "I am the manager," the girl said. Dr. Reis stood in front of the desk without moving for a minute. He painstakingly took a handkerchief out of his pocket, inspected its pale white folds, and, then, wiped the sweat off his forehead.   Beads of sweat were   spilling into his eyes and the salt stung. Then, he folded the handkerchief again and replaced it in his pocket.

10.
Dr. Reis returned to the car, explained the situation, and, then, steered back into town. They drove aimlessly, zigzagging along the streets.  Barriers had been set up in some places.  The sky was green and clouds were piled up as if about to fall out of the heavens in a great avalanche. The trees and flowers and leaves were all motionless.  "This is pointless," Dr. Reis said.  He pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned K-Mart. "We'll have to make for Green Bay," Dr. Reis proposed. He asked Nurse Norman to see if she could use the internet on her cell-phone to locate two rooms for them in that city. The big store far away at the other end of the asphalt lot was sheathed in pale plywood.  The asphalt was warped down toward a place where four battered-looking cars were parked next to a tall aluminum pole. Dr. Reis had stopped his Mercedes with his windshield aimed across the empty parking lot toward the abandoned cars and the plywood-masked facade of the K-Mart. Rain fell in big drops spattering the glass.

11.
The rain intensified. First, it fell straight down onto the hood of the Mercedes and the windshield, thudding against the car as if buckets of water were being poured from the skies.  Then, wind pulled the rain into lateral jets that buffeted the parked car. Sail-shaped signs and sheets of shingled wood skated across the empty K-Mart parking lot scuffing up fountains of water. A dumpster hydro-planed across the lake filling the lot and a nearby sign tore loose and like an errant guillotine blade sliced through the air vanishing in the chaos of water and wind. Trees blew like tumbleweeds across the drowned landscape. Dr. Reis felt the SUV rocking helplessly on its springs. "Get down," he said. "Something might come through the windshield." They crouched in the car, faces shoved up close to the icy plume of air-conditioned air billowing out of the console. Sirens sounded and the windows were all glazed with sheets of water, rivers flowing over the car that caught fire suddenly when incandescent lightning flashed. The low-lying clouds suddenly were scooped up and catapulted high into the sky and the rain fell again in vertical, solid-looking black columns. The parking lot had seemed, more or less, flat before the downpour, but, now, the deluge of rain showed that it was a landscape complete with subtle contours. Slopes and ridges that had not been visible before the flood now channeled water into the center of parking lot. The expanse of asphalt, in fact, revealed itself to be a sort of huge irregularly-shaped funnel around a central depression staked-down by the lamp pole where the four cars were parked. The wind kicked sheets of falling water back and forth across the flooded surface of the parking lot and waves rose and fell, ebbing up against where Dr. Reis was parked. For a moment, the wind shifted a little and, through the wet lens of his windshield, Dr. Reis saw something wiggling through the passenger side window of a white Impala, one of the parked cars at the bottom of the funnel basin. Water was swirling against the cars, foaming up and over their hoods. The rain blew against the Mercedes windshield again and everything vanished in a blur of windswept water surging down toward the funnel basin. Dr. Reis blinked. The shapeless thing dangled for a moment from the open window of the white Impala and, then, was knocked up onto the roof of the car by a white-capped wave.  "What is that?" Dr. Reis asked.  Nurse Norman didn't know what he meant.  "There!" he pointed across the lake of the parking lot to the cars under the central lamppole. "What is that?" he asked again.

12.
"It's a child," Nurse Norman said. Her words clarified things.  Dr. Reis saw a small child squatting  on  the roof of the Impala, crouched against the driving rain and sudden piston-blows  of wind.  "The   water's too deep," Dr. Reis said. Zazie began to cry. Dr. Reis opened the car door and trotted in the direction of the stranded child.

13.
The rain soaked his shoulders and hair and, then, Dr. Reis felt the water, strangely warm, sluicing   between his skin and clothing.   It was ankle-deep underfoot at first, then, knee-deep for twenty yards,   the flood animate with strange, unpredictable currents. Thunder boomed close at hand. The cars were ahead of him, a little  besieged  group in a corral around the lamp pole.   The wind throbbed  in his ear    and bored droplets of water into his skull.  He thought it was like being in a dream, buffeted from all  sides, and, suddenly, the water growing deeper and deeper with each step, and, therefore, the resistance    to him, also increasing  and, then, he was chest deep in the agitated flood, a current knocking him off his feet so that he had to roll onto his side and swim toward the vehicles. The rain crashing onto the surface of the ephemeral  lake made a white mist rebounding upward that blinded him.  High-pitched  cries reached across the flood and, when he straightened and put his feet, toes downward, probing the water the temperature of a lukewarm bath, there was no bottom. The cars were above him now and Dr. Reis saw that they were bobbing like corks on the swell of the flood, untethered from the asphalt parking lot, and, it occurred  to him that if the vehicles floated up against one another and pinched him,  he would be crushed.  He rolled between two of the floating cars, sleek walls of metal on both sides of him and the wet sky bolted down tightly overhead,  sutured to the surface of the surging lagoon by warm rays of rain. He tapped the aluminum  lamp pole like a swimmer turning around in a race, caught hold  for a moment, and, then, followed, the high-pitched whistling cries to see the child white-faced and screaming atop the Impala. The car was fully afloat and, in fact, grinding its side against the fourth car that seemed strangely tilted on its side. Dr. Reis kicked hard, came to the Impala and took hold of its door-handle. It was strange to feel the car rocking up and down, weightless in the tide. At first, the car seemed to roll toward him and Dr. Reis was afraid it would topple in his direction, going wheels up in the flood.  But, instead, the Impala stayed upright, a little restive, like a horse carrying its small rider on its back.  Dr. Reis lunged, grabbed the child with one arm and pulled hard.  The child fought to stay atop of the floating car, but, only for an instant, then, they were together in the flood with the kid writhing against his grip, spitting and coughing water, rising up and down in the turbulent lagoon. Dr.  Reis went under, fought his way to the surface, and leaned away from the peril of the cars tossed on the waves.  The child clawed at him and broke free for an instant, dropping like a stone in the flood.  Dr. Reis went down again, took the child by the hair, and dragged the kid forward, then, his feet touched bottom, then, the water was suddenly shallow, waist deep although still animate with currents against him, spiraling and plunging toward the funnel-shaped  basin where the cars now seemed to be spinning  in a sort of spiral vortex. Then, the water was knee-deep, ankle-deep, and he was standing by the Mercedes Benz with the wriggling child locked in his arms.

14.
A police squad car rocked to a stop, red lights whirling, a car-length from Dr. Reis' SUV.  A cop   wearing a yellow rain slicker came from the car.  Dr. Reis was still holding the child.  The kid was   sticky and smelled bad.  "You shouldn't  have gone out there," the cop said.   He was a young man with
a military-style crew-cut. Dr. Reis handed him the child. The policeman scrunched-up his nose. "You might have drowned," the cop said. "The cars could have crushed you." Dr. Reis was breathing heavily.  "Yep," he said.

15.
"You have to get out of those soaked clothes," Nurse Norman demanded. The water was foul. The flood had overrun the wastewater treatment lagoons. Dr. Reis smelled of sewage, spilled gasoline and oil, and some kind of astringent chemical that made his eyes water. Nurse Norman drove the SUV away from the flooded parking lot. The rain had stopped and the sun had emerged from behind the clouds and the monstrous humid heat revived. She drove through an office park. Freshly laid sod had slipped from a sloping lawn and formed a wet bulwark along the street. Although there were some cars parked along the lane, the buildings were opaque, mostly without windows or even doors or loading docks, elongated low-slung cubes sitting among the smashed shrubs. Nurse Norman stopped the car and Dr. Reis got out and rummaged in his roller-bag for some shorts and a golf shirt. "Change your underwear too," Nurse Norman said. "Here?"Dr. Reis asked. "Zazie, don't look," Nurse Norman commanded. "Ew," Zazie exclaimed, "why would I want to?" Dr. Reis stood next to the car, stripping down. When he was naked, he looked up and noticed two small black boys standing nearby, pitching shingle rafts into the flooded gutter.  The boys looked up at him, giggled, and pointed.  Dr. Reis clumped the soaked, bad-smelling garments together, squeezing out some of the water before putting the clothing in the back of the car. Then, he got behind the wheel and drove. "We have to get out of here," Dr. Reis said. He found the main commercial route and drove to the city limits. A long line of cars and trucks were lined up ahead, some of them, suddenly, pulling out to the side to make u-turns to escape the queue. Dr. Reis could see a couple of semi-tractors ahead lying on their side next to their ruptured trailers. A police barricade made from orange-painted saw-horses blocked the road. Three highway patrolmen in slippery-looking rain coats were signaling to the traffic to turn around and return to town. The sun was overhead now and hot.  The level flood in the ditches was motionless.  Birds were singing. Dr. Reis pulled to the right and got out of his car. A police officer paced along the file of waiting vehicles. "Turn around," he said.  "There are trees on the road and power-lines down.  You can't come this way." "What about that way?" Dr. Reis pointed to the blue dome of the water tower on the other side of the city. "The bridges are all out," the cop said.  "Can't go that way either.  For the time being, we're cut-off." Overhead, a couple of helicopters idly circled.

16.
Zazie said she was hungry. Nurse Norman got out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. But they didn't have a knife.  The SUV was parked at the edge of a grocery parking lot.  Dr. Reis hiked over to    the store.  It was closed.  But the door opening into the cart storage area had blown open.  Dr. Reis    went into the dark store. Puddles of water were everywhere, making the aisles between the product slippery.  Droplets splashed down from above, dampening Dr. Reis' forehead.   The place was like a   cave.  He found the deli.  In some bins, there were plastic forks and knives and spoons.  He scooped up   a handful of the plastic utensils.  "So I suppose I'm a looter," Dr. Reis said to himself.

17.
There was a city park with teeter-totters, swing sets, and some public toilets. Not too many trees were down and the wet lawns glistened in the sunshine. Dr. Reis parked in the lot and, for a while, they sat at one of the picnic tables. A family was grilling meat at a fire-pit and, across the road looping through park, a softball game was underway. The storm seemed to have mostly overlooked this place. A radio tuned to a top-40 station was playing in the green shadows. Dr. Reis felt terribly tired. He left the
picnic table and stretched out with his back against a tree.  The air was hot and humid.   When he   opened his eyes, it was twilight. He got up stiffly -- all of his joints ached. Nurse Norman had made a small fire and she and Zazie were roasting marshmallows.   "I  see you're making the best of it," Dr.
Reis said. "It's sort of hot and sticky," Nurse Norman replied. "I'm afraid of mosquitos," she added. "We'll have to sleep in the car," Dr. Reis said. Nurse Norman took from her purse a deck of cards and they played five-card draw, penny ante, until it was too dark to see the markings. "I guess we'll go to bed," Nurse Norman said. She and Zazie went to the car and changed into their pajamas. Dr. Reis sat behind the wheel in the SUV. "Sorry about this," he said.  "It's no problem," Nurse Norman replied. "It's an adventure. We were pretty poor when I was first married --" She was talking about her ex- husband. "When my ex went fishing," she said, "we couldn't afford motels and so we always slept in the car." "Okay," Dr. Reis said. He tried to open the windows a crack, but mosquitos, then, swarmed into the Mercedes. He rolled up the windows and set the time on his cell-phone for half hour intervals. When the timer sounded, he started the car and ran the AC for ten minutes. This kept things tolerably cool. Nurse Norman said that the back seat was comfortable - "it's a big ole car," she said. Dr. Reis wondered what she meant by "old" - the vehicle had only 19,000 miles on it. Zazie stretched out in the back of the car. After about an hour, she woke up and said that the wet clothes on the floor were bothering her -  "they stink," she said.  Dr. Reis opened the car door, went around to open the hatchback. He put the wet, smelly garments on the asphalt behind the car.

18.
Dr. Reis kept thinking about the flooded parking lot. He couldn't sleep and went outside to sit at the picnic table.  The air was still heavy with humidity and very warm.  Fireflies flickered green-yellow in  the  bushes.  A man came and sat across the table from Dr. Reis.  He was smoking a cigarette and, by     the flare when the man inhaled, Dr. Reis could see that he had a shaggy orange beard.   They exchanged a few words about the weather. The man's body odor was bad. Dr. Reis preferred the stink of the cigarette to his smell.  "Did your house get damaged?" Dr. Reis asked.  "I lost my house," the man  replied.  "Oh, my god," Dr. Reis said.  "No, I lost the house by foreclosure this May," the man explained. "That's terrible," Dr. Reis replied. "First, I was livin' with my wife and two kids with my  Ma," he said.  "But women can't get along- my Ma and my wife they were fightin'  all the time."  "I  see," Dr. Reis said.  "So I had to move out and I been livin' in my car with the kids and my old lady since mid-June," the man said. Dr. Reis wondered what cigarettes cost nowadays - six dollars, eight?  "That's  awful," Dr. Reis said.   The man spoke: "You know what really worries me?"  "What?" Dr. Reis asked. "Winter... I'm just really scared of Winter," he said.

19.
Sitting across from the man in the still air made Dr. Reis' eyes water. He said that he was getting up to take a walk. A sidewalk led him to the center of the park where there was a small pond spanned by little Japanese bridges. The County Hospital was across from the park on the other side of the street.
Dr. Reis went into the Emergency Room. A couple of male orderlies in blue smocks approached and asked him how he was hurt.  "I'm not hurt," Dr. Reis said.  "I'm a physician," Dr. Reis said.  "Have you had a lot of admissions?" he asked. "Can't really answer that due to HIPAA," the younger male nurse said. The other man was older with a pony tail. He winked at Dr. Reis: "The bad ones we had helicoptered out to the Regional Level II," he said. "Right now, it's mostly just worried folks, the worried well." "I suppose," Dr. Reis said. "That storm was pretty scary." Dr. Reis said that he hadn't done ER work for a long time but he was available to help if necessary. "Let me check," one of the nurses said. They left the waiting room. Some police came into the lobby and whispered something to the lady at the admission desk. Then, she led them back through the swinging door into the ER. A
little man with frizzy hair appeared. He was wearing a pager ostentatiously holstered to his hip. This marked him as an administrator -  physicians no longer wore pagers, but administrators almost always  had them.   "I appreciate your kind offer," the Administrator  said.  "But we don't know how we'd bill    for your services and, then, there's credentialing..."  "I'm in good standing," Dr. Reis said. "Oh, of   course, doctor," the Administrator  said.  "But we don't know about your malpractice insurance and  things like that and so..." Dr. Reis waved his hand at the little man. "Oh, it's okay," he said adding:  "Just an  idea." He asked if there was some coffee brewing. "Sure," the Administrator said. "I'll have someone bring you a cup." A couple minutes later, one of male orderlies appeared with a cup of coffee. "You  know what I’d like," Dr. Reis said.  "What?"  "Have you got a cubby somewhere, you know, a spider-hole where I could crash for a couple hours?"   To his surprise, the man with the pony tail winked at him again.  He led Dr. Reis down the hall to a little room stocked with mops and cleaning supplies.  There was a small cot against the wall.  "We really appreciate you offering to help, Doc," the older nurse with the pony tail said as he walked away. Dr. Reis took off his tennis shoes and lay down on the cot. It reminded him of his residency years ago. Immediately, he fell asleep. Someone had sent him to check on a corpse in the morgue in the hospital basement. He got lost.  There were cellars and sub-cellars, winding steps, rooms full of strange, sinister equipment and, then, grottos resplendent with stalactites around which the roots of trees were coiled. There was much below.  People could smoke  down in these sub-cellars and the air smelled of burning tobacco. The timer on his watch woke him up.  He had been sleeping for less than a half hour. He walked back to the SUV and slumped down on the
front seat.  Everyone was snoring loudly.  He couldn't fall asleep but, then, he did.

20.
Dawn seeped skyward, red at first, then bright orange and yellow. The air was dry, scrubbed clean of its heavy humidity and a fresh wind was blowing, stirring ripples across the lagoons made by the flood. The power had been restored and the breeze hummed with sound of chainsaws and, already, crews of Mexican roofers were patrolling the streets, propping ladders against eaves, workers crossing themselves before climbing up to the shattered shingles. At the gas stations, haggard-looking men with alcohol-ravaged faces stood patiently in line to use toilets - these were independent claims adjusters who had driven all night to reach Chagrin Falls.

21.
At the edge of town, the road was open, orange barricades pulled to the side, and they drove away on two-lane blacktop, free as a bird. For a few miles, they passed ruin and destruction, but, then, the countryside was intact, vast rolling fields of undamaged crops, ancient barns and silos standing behind dense green shelter-belts, lakes in pockets in the land, and distant freeways cutting across the rural lanes and byways, anchored by big cities in both directions attracting trucks and cars and motorcycles. The sun was vivid overhead and dew glistened on leaves and flowers. They came to a great estuary where steel ships, large enough to forge their ways through the Great Lakes were moored in concrete canals, restaurants with rooftop terraces overlooking the seaway, and steel lift-bridges arched over the water. Orchards where fruit was ripening stood on stony ridges and wild forests dropped from the sheer bluffs down to the vast lake. The resort was large with several swimming pools and time-shares with decks perched above the green fairways. Dr. Reis checked them into their two units and Nurse Norman went with Zazie to the pool. Dr. Reis had a two pm tee time. He met several colleagues and they drank beer while waiting for their time on the course. The tees were scenic, overlooking long fairways clinging to the landscape's contours. The roughs were deep and green, impenetrable with hanging vines and a dense understory bristling with thorns. The greens stood like altars lifted up above flanking sand hazards and water traps, held out on the palm of the lawns to the sun. A sweet cross-breeze animated the trees and brush. Sea gulls from the lake swooped and soared. Dr. Reis played poorly. This disturbed him: during the preceding month, he had been playing par golf, even, eagling many holes. The course was familiar to him, but his swing seemed awkward and his short game was erratic.  He bogied ten holes, double-bogied six more, and played par on only two.

22.
At the clubhouse, the players in his foursome bought rounds for one another. Dr. Reis drank whiskey and Seven-Up. He told the other doctors about the storm at Chagrin Falls. He didn't mention the flooded parking lot and the child - that memory was distasteful to him. He told the others that he had been among so much misery and doom that misfortune was contagious. "I seem to have caught some of what was going around there," Dr. Reis said, "...much to the detriment of my game."

23.
That night, Dr. Reis and Nurse Norman had a fine dinner at the lodge restaurant. They ordered a pizza with some Monkey Bread for Zazie.  Dr. Reis remarked that he had left his wet jeans and polo shirt at the park in Chagrin Falls. "My memory, my memory!" Dr. Reis exclaimed with mock dismay. He was on a turmeric regimen to ward off Alzheimer's disease - the illness had destroyed his father before killing him. "I've completely forgotten to take my turmeric," he told Nurse Norman. "You can't fight memory loss," Nurse Norman said, "if you forget to take your meds." After they were done eating, Dr. Reis suggested that Nurse Norman come to his room next to the suite where she was staying. She told him that it was the wrong time of the month. In his room, Dr. Reis read a book, a biography of Ulysses Grant, for a half-hour. He shut-off the lights but couldn't sleep.  There was heat-lightning flashing in the clouds over the lake. He thought about the child and the Impala bobbing like a cork in the flooded parking lot. He felt feverish and all of his joints ached and his belly was unsettled also - he wondered if he had swallowed some of tainted flood waters when he rescued the child. After an hour of tossing and turning, Dr. Reis went to the common door between the two adjacent suites, wiggled the door handle and found that it was unlocked. He tiptoed into Nurse Norman's unit and found her asleep on one of the two queen beds in the room. Zazie was in the other bed, breathing deeply, her eyes shut and her mouth open and feet kicked out from under the sheets. Dr. Reis crawled into bed with Nurse Norman and traced a finger down her spine under her pajama top. She rolled over against him.  Dr. Reis whispered to her that he felt feverish and was aching in his joints and wondered whether the flood water in Chagrin Falls had poisoned him. "You're just imagining things," she said. She put her hand between his legs and rubbed him. "I guess I'll have to relax you somehow," Nurse Norman said. "But Zazie's right here," Dr. Reis said. "You think I don’t know my own child. She's sound asleep," Nurse Norman whispered. "But what if she wakes up," Dr. Reis said. "She won't," Nurse Norman said. The risk seemed to excite her. "Life is dangerous," Nurse Norman said.  "You have to take risks," she said.  She dived down under the sheets and put her head near Dr. Reis' groin. "Let me take care of this," Nurse Norman said. Dr. Reis looked over to the bed four feet away. Zazie was sprawled diagonally across the mattress.

24.
When she was finished, Nurse Norman surfaced next to Dr. Reis and whispered into his ear. "How does he feel now?" Sometimes, she referred to Dr. Reis penis as "he". "Good," Dr. Reis said. "I'm sure he's happy now," Nurse Norman said. "Now go back to your room."  She said this without conviction. Dr. Reis remained with her until dawn and, then, rose and went back to sleep for an hour in his own cool suite.

25.
The seminar was about Accelerated Resolution Therapy (ART) for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Dr. Reis was skeptical and said so on the golf course. He played a little better than the afternoon before. He remembered to take his Javanese Turmeric in the ginger-colored pill. After his game and cocktails in the club house, he drove into town and got Zazie a sandwich at Arby's with some curly fries. Then, he and Nurse Norman drove to a seafood restaurant in the town below the bluff on which the resort was built. The food was expensive but very good. The next morning, Dr. Reis took his memory pill and attended the morning session of the seminar. Pastry was provided and coffee with orange juice. He bogied most holes on the course that afternoon, but, also, scored an eagle on number 16, a particularly difficult par 5. They ate at a pancake place in the next town and, then, attended a summer stock performance of Woody Allen's play Don't Drink the Water. The play was presented in an old barn with exposed rafters and hay bales marking the path to the ticket booth. It was very funny. The next morning, Dr. Reis took his Javanese Turmeric pill and attended the morning session - the lecturer had run out of things to say and so he ended the program around 10:30. With Nurse Norman and Zazie, they were checked-out and were on the road home before noon.

26.
Dr. Reis gave Chagrin Falls a wide berth. He had no desire to go near the town. They stopped for lunch at an IHOP near a military base about forty miles from Chagrin Falls. The newspaper on sale bore this headline: Mystery Man saves Child from Flood-Authorities seeking Hero-rescuer. Nurse Norman pointed at the headline and paid 75 cents to buy a copy. "You are a hero," she said. Zazie said: "You should go to the police and let them know it was you." Dr. Reis shook his head: ''No, no, there are too many complications." And, so, they returned to the Mercedes Benz continued their trip back home.

27.
A young Black man with hair in henna-dyed dread locks was hitchhiking by the freeway exit. Dr. Reis slowed down. "We don't pick up hitchhikers," Nurse Norman said. "Sometimes, I do," Dr. Reis said as he pulled onto the shoulder. "I'm sure he's hot and thirsty." Nurse Norman told Zazie to crawl over the seats and sit alone in the way-back. "There's luggage in the way," Zazie complained. "Make it work," Nurse Norman ordered.

28.
The young man said that he had been in Chagrin Falls at the time of the storm. "We were there too," Dr. Reis said.  He asked Nurse Norman to give the young man a bottle of water.  "It's hot out there," Dr. Reis remarked. "That it is," the young man replied.  He was wearing cologne that filled the air in the SUV with a fruity, sweet smell.  "There's bad stuff happenin' in that town," the young man said. He told Dr. Reis that he and his cousin had gone to Home Depot and just purchased a gas generator with a cord and an eight-plug power-strip. "My cousin got a call from his lady. She said that someone was hurt from the storm and all and that he had to go home right away. So he goes and leaves me with the generator.  Then, the cops come and haul me out of the pick-up and want to see my receipt for the thing. But it's with my cousin 'cuz he paid for it. So I got no receipt. So, then, the cop cuffs me and takes me in his car somewhere. There's a bunch of brothers sitting on an outdoors parking lot, all of 'em cuffed and the sun just blazing down. Then, a school bus comes rattling over and we're ordered to get on the bus and if we don't move quick enough, we get hit hard upside the head. I seen it. People beatin' on us and blood all over. Then, we go out in the country to this hole in the ground, like a stone quarry or somethin' and they march us over to the side and say that all looters are gonna be shot, gonna all be killed for their crimes, gonna be executed right then and there. So I'm sayin' you can't do this, I want a lawyer, and so the big boss cop takes a guy next to me, drags him to the edge of the quarry, and shoots him right in the face. Then, he drops down in the water--splash! And, then, the cops are draggin' the other brothers to the edge of the quarry and guns are going off and some of 'em they don't even bother to shoot-- they just pitch them over the side- splash! Right into the deep water. But I got away, obviously I got away..." "How did you get away?" Dr. Reis. "I don't know. I just got away." "Were you handcuffed?" Dr. Reis said. "You said you were handcuffed." "You know, I don't rightly remember," the young man said. "It was all over that gas generator," he added. The young man said that he was hungry and wondered if they had anything he could eat. Zazie gave him a bag of M & M's.

29.
After about ten miles, the young man tapped on the windshield and said that they had come to his destination. "I can get out right here," he said. Dr. Reis pulled over. The crossroads was still, hushed, even expectant.  Insects buzzed in the tree tops.  A gravel road ran along a slough where there were tall,  straight cattails furred at their tops.  In the distance, a white country church crowned a small green  mound, a bit like a place where Indians buried their dead. "Are you sure this is where you want to get out?" Dr. Reis asked.  "I'm sure," the young man said.   They let him out under a flowering hedge,     some pink petals blowing in the wind.   When Dr. Reis searched his rear view mirror for the young     man, he had vanished. "Do you think what he said was true?" Nurse Norman asked.  "Not likely," Dr.  Reis  said, "but, who knows?"

30.
The thing with Nurse Norman didn't work out.  Dr.  Reis went to the Clinic Christmas Party with a lady psychiatrist that he had known in medical school. It was bitterly cold and big, tremulous-looking flakes fluttered past the colored lights hung in wreaths on the Country Club’s car-port.  Dr. Reis' date was wearing high heels that were a little tricky on the snowy sidewalks and parking lot ice. "I'll get the car," Dr. Reis said. "Please wait here."  He walked to the parked Mercedes Benz.  The wind scooped up snow from the greens and tees of the golf course beyond the trees and carried it over the parked
vehicles. "My god," Dr. Reis said to himself. "It would be terrible night to be outside without shelter." Then, he started the car, turned on the heat, and drove to the car-port to pick up his date.