Jack Ramsay
Ms. Sherman
Creative Writing
21 November 2019
Rising Waters
The boat skidded across the dirty water of Cherry Hill, New Jersey. There were two climate refugees aboard the bus, with the intent to cross over the river into Philadelphia. One of the 2 passengers was a young girl named Isabelle. With soft, pale skin and brunette hair with bangs, her figure was petite, but she looked rough and broken at the edges, with ripped sleeves and dusty black jeans. She looked like a beautiful princess that had been lost in the wild.
Isabelle took a deep breath as the boat passed by her old house. No, don’t look… But she caved to the temptation of looking.
	When she peered at the flooded foundation of the old house, it all came back to her. She began to breathe heavily as the screams got louder and louder in her head.
	An older man, in his mid forties, got up from his seat across the boat and walked over to Isabelle. He sat down in the chair next to her, and smelled of cigarette smoke, liquor and dust. In a thick Brooklyn accent, he asked her, “Ya good, kiddo?”
	Isabelle jumped like a deer in the headlights. It was almost as if she had disconnected from reality and got lost in her own head for a moment. Isabelle wiped her tear stained eyes with her ripped sleeves. “Yeah, I’m… fine. I’m just… I’ll be good in a moment,” she breathed out heavily.
	The scruffy man skeptically played with his poorly shaven beard, reached into his jet black leather jacket and took out a silver flask.
“You from round here?” he asked after a lengthy gulp from his flask.
	“Yeah… right from this town,” Isabelle sighed.
	“Oh… I see,” he nodded solemnly, and let out a burp. “So I’m guessing you-”
	“You’re right. I got screwed by the Wave of 2145,” she said, as her voice quivered. “My parents, my childhood, my friends, my house. Everything I ever knew was all swept into the sea when the tidal wave crashed into Cherry Hill. And what do you know? I’m one of like, 2 survivors from the whole town.”
	“Damn, kid, that’s dark,” the man closed his eyes and took another sip. There was an awkward silence, and then a loud hiccup. “You want a sip?”
	“No, thank you,” she shook her head as she played anxiously with her hair. “I don’t really drink.  I just… I guess I’m just trying to hold myself together right now.”
	“C’mon, kid, lay it on me!” the drunken man laughed and slapped her back. “I’ve seen it all, kid. If we can somehow sneak into Philly, we’re set for life. But for now, we’re on a suicide mission. Don’t hold your breath.”
Isabelle looked at the rusty top of her old elementary school. “Okay.. okay… I’m just... remembering that hopeless feeling I had when I sat atop the safety raft while it was drifting away from my flooded house. It was just me… watching my whole town in shambles,” she began to sob. “And all I could think about was how my life would never be the same. It’s all just coming back to me all at once,”
She began to bury her head in her hands, with tears pouring out of her eyes, and the man hesitantly reached over to try and comfort her but shook the temptation away with another glug of whiskey.
The resonant loudspeaker screeched in a robotic voice “We will shortly be arriving at: The Walt Whitman Bridge.”
“Yeah right. Sure hope we got the right documentation.”  the man laughed sarcastically and lit a cigarette.  Isabelle was too lost in her tears to laugh in response. To break the silence, he coughed out: “uhh... What’ya say we go onto the deck and have a look, eh buckaroo?”
Isabelle and the man got up and walked to the deck and looked up at the hauntingly tall pillars of the suspension bridge ahead coming closer and closer. The road was nearly level with the river, with the occasional gust of wind lapping bits of water over. On the other side of the massive bridge, she could see the bright white lights of Philadelphia. She could already imagine what life was like for the top 1% that lived over there, in their high rise apartments with delicious filet mignon piled high. Isabelle was sick with anticipation.
Isabelle and the man walked out of the boat. Isabelle slid the driver a quarter and waved, and the man gave her a thumbs up and a smile. She was glad there was still some signs of humanity in New Jersey. Consequently, the man slapped the drivers hand and giggled drunkenly.
Isabelle glanced over at the man and saw he was looking at an old photograph of a family. He closed his eyes and drunkenly murmured to himself: “it’s gonna be okay… it’s gonna be okay…”
The man noticed that Isabelle was looking at him murmuring and put back on his tough guy persona. “What’re ya lookin’ at, kid?” he jumped. “Can a man have some peace and quiet around here? Whatever. What’s your plan for getting over that bridge?”
“Well, there’s inevitably a MetalDog or two guarding the bridge,” she said. “Sooo I was thinkin’… we give him a bag of drugs and say we just found it in Camden or somethin’. I mean, I reckon the accuser’s always holy, right?”
“Are you frickin’ serious, kid?” the man gasped. “You’re gonna try and fool a MetalDog? Are you mad? It sees through everything.”
“Well, we’re already sneaking into Philly, where all the elites live, so we’re not exactly innocent in the first place,” she responded impatiently. “Look, if you’ve got a better plan, let me know.”
The man grinned and winked at the short, fuming girl and took out a .51 cal pistol.
“Oh my god. We are NOT-”
“Yea, you didn’t strike me as the type of girl to bring out the glocks too quick,” the man laughed. Isabelle wasn’t laughing back, and she stared up at him sternly. “Aw, don’t look at me like that… Whatever, we’ll go with your plan, ya pipsqueak. But if the mutt catches onto us, we’re both screwed.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it.” Isabelle grumbled. “My plan sucks. You can stop telling me that. Look… do you have any drugs we can pretend we ‘confiscated?’”
The man smiled deviously and reached into his coat pocket and brought out a ziploc bag of white powder. “You know me too well.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes and let out an irritated giggle. Oh god, I’m gonna have to cooperate with a drunken lowlife if I ever wanna get out of here alive, she thought.
As they approached the bridge, they could see the MetalDog hovering over the entrance to Pennsylvania. A bright blue scanning laser shot out of its red eyes, as it flew around the bridge menacingly. They hid behind the massive concrete pillars.
“What? Only one MetalDog for the whole bridge?” Isabelle gasped,
“Oh, you’ve obviously never seen what a MetalDog can do to a guy,” The man sighed. “Listen here, kid. Let’s take a seat for just a sec here.”
Isabelle and the man sat under the orange sky as the sun set over the city on the other side.
“Kid… if it comes down to one of us surviving,” the man sighed. “I just want you to know… even if we’ve known each other for like, an hour, I’ll make sure you get into the city. You deserve it more than me,”
“What makes you say that?” Isabelle asked.
“Let’s just say… I’ve seen a lot of stuff… and done a lot of stuff. Stuff I’m not proud of. I was a mercenary, the best in New York.” he lamented. “But it was all to feed my family. When the climate really started to cave in, as you know, there wasn’t a whole lot of food goin’ around. You had to be rich as hell to get anything more than a slice of bread. But no matter how much dumb stuff I did, people I killed, banks I robbed… I couldn’t save em. They all died when the Manhattan Wall broke,”
“I’m… so sorry,” Isabelle sighed and caressed the man’s back. “That sounds like a lot to have on your shoulders… Mr… uh-”
“Hunt. Dave Hunt. Just… call me Dave, alright?” confirmed the man, casually saluting the girl.
“Right. And I’m Isabelle. Isabelle McCormack.” smiled Isabelle, with tears falling down her cheeks. “You can call me Belle though.”
“Belle, you’re a good kid, alright?” Dave consoled the crying girl. “It’s really tough out there… with the rising waters and the food shortages. But… once you get across this bridge it’s all filet mignon and lobster tail for you. I’m gonna make sure you get there safe. Okay?”
“Why do you want to… do this for me?” Isabelle questioned. “I’m just… me… Dave, why-”
“Because I want to be the fatherly figure I never was. To do something right for once. Belle, I have NO ONE left. They’re all dead. Just let me have this one, okay?”
Isabelle nodded slowly.
“Look… even if I don’t make it out… you HAVE to cross the bridge. Do it for ME,”
Isabelle opened her mouth to respond, but Dave had already escaped her embrace and was running towards the drone in the center of the bridge.
“Hey, big bud! I found some coke just lyin’ around on the wonderful streets of Camden,” Dave teased the machine. “Don’t ya wanna confiscate it?”
Analyzing. called the robotic voice of the MetalDog. Name: David Hunt. Sex: Male. Age: 45. Class: Low. boolean: isWanted: True. Threat imminent. Preparing for elimination in 10 seconds.
The metal drone’s laser began to charge and pulseate a red color. Dave turned around to Isabelle, who was shaking with uncontrollable panic.
“Told ya the plan wasn’t gonna work,” Dave winked and grinned. “But Daddy’s got a backup plan. Care for a dip, pooch?”
Isabelle suddenly realized what Dave was going to do. “DAVE, NO! YOU CAN’T!” she screamed. But it was too late.
“Cannonball!” Dave grabbed the drone from the air, held it to his chest, dragged the struggling machine to the edge, and jumped off the bridge into the water. With the sound of a shortcircuiting machine fizzing in the water, Dave disappeared beneath the waves.