Chapter 5 - Waking the Valley
The manual discharge of the primary spillway gates sent a controlled, rushing torrent of water down the concrete spillway channel, but it wasn't enough to save the lower valley from flooding if the storm continued to dump rain at this catastrophic rate.
The water had to be released incrementally, and the town below had to wake up now.
I bolted out of the secondary control bunker, leaped back into my Ford Ranger, and jammed the truck into gear. I didn't head back to the office; I headed straight down the winding canyon road toward the heart of Blackwood, hitting my high beams and leaning continuously on the truck's horn.
AHOOOOGA! AHOOOOGA!
The dual air horns screamed through the howling storm, cutting through the sheets of rain as I tore down Maple Avenue, fishtailing around the corner onto Main Street.
The town was dark, asleep behind locked doors and drawn curtains, unaware that a wall of water was racing down the gorge behind me.
I cranked down my driver's side window, stuck my head out into the freezing downpour, and began screaming at the top of my lungs.
"WAKE UP! FLASH FLOOD! GET TO THE RIDGE! MOVE!"
I slammed on my brakes in front of the local diner, threw open my door, and sprinted across the sidewalk, pounding my fists against the heavy glass front doors of the building.
Inside, the elderly diner owner, Mrs. Higgins, was wiping down the counter, while two late-night customers sat in a booth drinking coffee. They jumped in surprise as I hammered frantically on the glass.
Mrs. Higgins unlocked the door, pulling it open with a worried frown. "Ethan? What on earth are you doing out in this—"
"Mrs. Higgins, listen to me!" I grabbed her shoulders, my voice cracking with absolute, terrifying urgency. "The hydroelectric dam spillway is open! A flash flood is hitting the lower basin in less than twenty minutes! Drop everything, grab your staff, and run up the fire trail toward Ridge Road right now!"
"A flood?" One of the customers laughed nervously, walking over with a coffee cup in his hand. "Ethan, son, it's just a summer gully-washer. The dam hasn't flooded since '74."
"The dam is failing because Gable and Vance neglected the foundation!" I roared, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "I just opened the manual gates myself! The river is rising three feet every minute! If you don't run right now, you will drown in this booth!"
The raw, unadulterated terror in my eyes finally pierced through their skepticism. The customer’s face went pale. Mrs. Higgins dropped her dish towel, her hands flying to her mouth.
"My grandchildren..." Mrs. Higgins whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "They're sleeping two blocks down..."
"Go get them!" I shouted, turning back toward my truck. "Get everyone onto the high ground! Tell your neighbors! Sound your car horns! Do not stop for anything!"
I jumped back behind the wheel, spinning the truck around and heading toward the residential district along the riverbank.
The municipal sirens were still dead—Gable’s sabotage had seen to that—so I became the siren.
I drove down every residential street, leaning on my air horns, flashing my high beams into windows, and pounding on front doors until families began spilling out onto their porches in raincoats and pajamas, confused, terrified, and staring up at me in disbelief.
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"Get to the ridge!" I yelled through the megaphone I had grabbed from my truck bed, my voice echoing off the houses. "The dam is overtopping! Move your families to the church hill now!"
Slowly, agonizingly, the inertia of a sleeping town broke. Porch lights flickered on one by one. Car engines roared to life in driveways. Neighbors began shouting to neighbors, doors slamming, children crying, a chaotic, beautiful symphony of human survival waking up just in time.
