Last Chance Motel 1 (Last Chance Romance Series) (14 page)

“Let’s not think about that.” Eva pulled her hood over her face as she went back out. But it was no use. The car wouldn’t start for her either.

As Eva got out of the car, the water was just below her ankles. Sloshing through the water, she made her way back to the house where an anxious Mary waited at the door.

“You’re drenched.”

“That’s okay. Mary, I think we are going to have to make our way across the highway and try to take the john boat back to the Pink Flamingo.

“I don’t think I could make it. I’m too old. You go on.”

Eva grabbed her hands. “NO! We go together. Look. The water is flooding the backyard of the house. It won’t be long before the house is flooded too. The Pink Flamingo is on higher ground and my truck is there. We can still get out.”

Seeing that she could not persuade Eva to leave, Mary decided to try it. Mary put on a raincoat, boots, and a hat.

Joining hands, they both forced the front door open and stepped into the torrential rain. Holding tight onto each other, they pushed against the force of the wind as they made their way to the highway.

But much to Eva’s chagrin, there were no cars in sight. The road was deserted . . . in just the hour since Eva had crossed it previously. She had been hoping that some good Samaritan would give them a ride but it seemed that chance had come and gone.

Eva was downcast when she realized that if she had waited, she might have been able to drive her truck to Mary’s. She couldn’t think of that now.

“Wait a minute. I hear something,” said Mary, pointing at the road.

In the distance a line of cars was making a last minute dash out of the islands. Mary and Eva waved their arms signaling for the cars to stop.

The cars rushed past them except for the last one. A van full of teenagers stopped. One of them rolled down a window.

“Can you take us?” asked Eva.

“We are jammed full but we can take one more.”

“You can’t take both of us?” cried Mary.

“Look for yourself,” said a young woman.

Eva glanced inside the van and indeed it was packed with people and animals . . . shivering dogs, meowing cats, guinea pigs, and birdcages. The teenagers must have been picking up every stray person and animal they found on the road.

Mary and Eva looked at each other with dismay.

“Open the door,” yelled Eva, pushing Mary forward.

“NO, EVA!” resisted Mary, but Eva gave her one strong push. Mary fell into the van where a teenage boy pulled her in.

Eva gave the boy a nod and he shut the door. Eva pounded on the side of the door and the van took off, trying to catch up with their caravan.

Giving the caravan one last look, Eva could see that there was no car in sight going north. Only those determined to stay were left. Even the police had headed out.

Eva tried to walk the highway back to the Pink Flamingo but the wind threatened to lift her off her feet. She soon became exhausted fighting the wind and she had only traveled twenty feet. Resigned that she was not going to walk back to the motel, she decided to try the john boat. She hoped it was where she had left it.

Several times, she almost lost her footing due to the high winds but finally she made it to the inlet. She ran down the slope and onto the shallow beach. Happily the john boat was still there.

Eva scooted the john boat out into the water and climbed inside. She pushed the start button on the motor.

Nothing.

She pushed the button again.

Nothing.

Then she remembered she had not put the choke in the correct position.

Eva whispered a silent prayer.

Finally she pushed the start button one last turn and the motor started up, weak at first and then gradually stronger until Eva felt confident to maneuver the boat into deeper water.

Wherever she could, Eva did not stray far from the shore, where it was only a few feet deep. Even with the strong winds and water slapping into the boat, she was slowly making headways although it was hard for Eva to negotiate. She had to keep her head down against the wind most of the time while bailing water out with the rusty tin can.

After an exhausting forty minutes of fighting the elements, Eva could see a familiar blur of pink from the water.

“I MADE IT!!!” she yelled.

Eva was heading in when a huge wave swamped the john boat, flipping it over and catching Eva underneath. She screamed as she dodged the outboard motor’s blades.

The blades on the motor dug into the sand, causing the boat to sink. Eva realized that the boat had become a coffin in the water.

Not knowing exactly where the propeller was, Eva thrashed as she tried to keep her body away from the grinding sounds.

Suddenly the blades became so embedded in the sand that they stopped turning even though the motor kept groaning in its desire to continue working.

Eva only had a very small pocket of air. She flipped on her knees and pushed against the spine of the boat trying to flip if over, but it refused.

Panicking, Eva yelled and screamed while pounding on the boat. Realizing that no one would hear her, Eva had to stop and think. She started digging the sand with her hands until she made a small depression. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself through the opening between the sand and the boat. The water was only several feet deep, coming up to her waist.

Eva tried to swim ashore but the waves kept knocking her back. Finally she tried to wade ashore. Eva would gain a few feet and then be knocked back. She knew she was losing what little strength she had left, so she had to make the next few attempts count.

Pushing forward, Eva gave it everything she had and finally got close enough to the shore that the water was only over her ankles. After that it was easy to walk out of the water and onto the sand.

But as soon as Eva walked on land, she felt a sharp pain in her right foot. Looking down, she discovered that she was bleeding profusely. There was a severe laceration across the bridge of her tennis shoe and deep into the skin. Blood was seeping out at a brisk pace.

The sight of so much blood made Eva woozy as she stumbled to the office. It was only a few feet away . . . if she could just make it.

She made it.

Eva cried with relief as she pushed open the door to the office. She fumbled for a first-aid kit under the counter and hobbled into the living area.

Carefully she pulled off her shoe and washed the wound. Eva gently bandaged her foot and then wrapped a garbage bag securing it with rubber bands around it to keep it dry.

Eva reached for a bottle of vodka sitting on the kitchen counter. “I know I’m not supposed to drink you now, but here goes. Bottoms up,” she quipped as she took a big gulp. The vodka burned as it went down.

Wiping her mouth, she confessed, “I really needed that.”

Hopping into the office, Eva checked the landline phone.

Nothing.

She tried her cell phone.

Nothing.

“Looks like I’m on my own. Now what?” uttered Eva in despair. She thought for a moment, trying to ignore the throbbing in her foot. “The truck! I have the truck.” She still had the keys in her pocket.

Eva threw the office door open and headed back out into the roaring landscape of water and wind. She hurried to the truck, hopping on one foot, and threw herself inside.

Relieved that she was out of the storm, Eva was confidant she was going to get away as the road had not flooded yet.

Fumbling, Eva finally got the key into the ignition and turned it. The truck whined.

“Come on, baby. Come on.”

The engine turned over.

Eva shouted with joy as she turned the truck around and headed toward the main road. As she was almost to the highway, a gust of wind toppled a large palm tree across the hood of the truck causing Eva to swerve and crash the truck into the Pink Flamingo sign.

Eva’s head had hit the side window, causing it to bleed. But Eva didn’t know that she was bleeding, as she was unconscious.

M
ike was starting to panic. He had tried for hours to get hold of his mother and Eva, but to no avail.

It was not unusual for communications to falter during a hurricane. No contact didn’t mean there was necessarily something wrong. But since the death of his wife, Mike panicked if he didn’t have contact with his loved ones.

Jenny was safe in Orlando. He had just talked to her, trying to calm his daughter’s worst fears. He assured Jenny that her grandmother was probably caught in traffic on Miami’s bypass and just couldn’t get a call out.

He gave her his word that he would try to get in contact with both her grandmother and Eva. Mike didn’t want to admit to his daughter that he was worried too. His mother always called before leaving the house during an evacuation but he hadn’t heard from her. He finally tracked down Aussie Jack on his way to Orlando, but Jack couldn’t give him fresh information on the whereabouts of Mary or Eva. Mike thanked him and hung up.

He tried calling his mother again.

No response. He pondered what to do.

Mike was about to give up when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mike, this is Mom. I’m using someone else’s phone.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine, Mike.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in a van heading north. I’m with some nice young people. They are going to stop at a car rental and I am going to rent a car to get to Orlando. Mine wouldn’t start. I’m going to my sister’s.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Have you heard from Eva?”

“No, I assume she’s with Dennis.”

“Oh dear. She tried to help me and sacrificed a place in the van so I could get out. Dennis wasn’t with her. I don’t know where she is now. We left her standing on the highway.”

There was silence from Mike.

“Mike?”

“Yes.”

“Mike, I tried to stop her but she pushed me in the van. I know her truck was working. Maybe she went back to get it. Oh, Mike, I’m so worried.”

“Mom, I’ve got to go. Keep in touch.”

“Son?” Mary heard Mike sign off.

Mike speed-dialed Dennis.

Dennis answered, thinking it might be Eva, but instead he heard Mike’s voice.

“Dennis, is Eva with you?”

“She wouldn’t come with me. She went to help your mother.”

“So you just left her there . . . alone?”

“It was her decision.”

“You’re a worthless bastard, you know that.”

Before Dennis could respond, Mike hung up.

Gathering his insulin medication into a special pouch, Mike strapped it around his waist for safekeeping. Then he ran out into the pounding rain and untied the Sea Horse from the marina dock. Drenched, his hair matted to his face, he started the boat and turned on his running lights. The marina was less than eighty miles from Key Largo and Mike knew every channel, every canal, every island around Miami and the Keys. Even with the wind working against him, Mike thought he could make Key Largo sometime that night.

The problem was getting from the marina to the Keys without having the hurricane sink the Sea Horse. If he was lucky enough to make it to the Keys, he could slip behind them and be somewhat protected from large waves sinking his boat.

Mike was determined to take that chance and headed out. He was going to find Eva.

Heading out into the storm, Mike could barely see out the windows and had to rely on his instruments.

Waves tossed the Sea Horse about like a toy boat in a bathtub as Mike gritted his teeth, but he was not going to let down the woman he loved.

The woman he loved?

Yes, Mike realized now that he had fallen in love with Eva and had fallen hard. Mike prayed to God that he would find her.

Even if it killed him.

A
nd it almost did.

Many times Mike thought the boat was going to sink when large waves swamped it, but the Sea Horse pounded back against the water. The boat relentlessly pushed against the wind until it finally made it behind Key Largo.

Battered and bruised from being tossed around in the boat, Mike finally thought he was out of danger when he began to see familiar landmarks of Key Largo. He was almost there.

But a rogue wave pushed the Sea Horse into a sand bar. Mike fell to the floor, hitting his head. He lay there several minutes before realizing that the Sea Horse was listing and taking on water.

Rubbing his forehead, he pulled back his hand only to discover blood. “Shake it off, buddy. Shake it off,” he told himself.

Mike pulled himself up and stared out a window. The boat wasn’t too far from the shore. The bad news was that he had to get into the water to get to the shore and it was pitch black and raining like the devil. Mike was afraid that if he got into the water, he might be swept into the bay.

He retrieved flares from his emergency supplies and shot several off toward the land so he could see more clearly. He gauged that the water was not deep and he would have only six or more feet to wade to reach the shore. The risk was acceptable.

He put on his safety vest, wraparound glasses, hardhat, and weights around his ankles. With rope and a prayer, Mike jumped off the boat into the turbulent water.

The Sea Horse provided some protection from the bay but not from the water spilling over from the Atlantic Ocean across the Key. Mike strained against the wind and the slapping water but made it to shore.

Once he felt solid ground under his feet, Mike leaned against a tree and threw off the weights. He turned back and forth, trying to determine where he was.

Mike laughed when he discovered that he was only a mile from the motel. Bearing his head down, Mike made it to Highway 1. The road was clear of debris, except for water and a few trees down here and there, but he could walk it . . . or wade it.

Determined, Mike gritted his teeth and began the punishing mile to the Pink Flamingo Motel.

E
xhausted, Mike made it to the driveway of the motel. He prayed that he would find Eva there. The wind had pulled off his hat and he could barely see, but at least his glasses kept the rain out of his eyes.