“Anything interesting, boy?” Adulfus asked. He leaned against the back of the house and rested his rifle in the crook of his arm. Adulfus was Father’s youngest brother.

Smitty was curled up on the porch at his feet. The big collie wasn’t interested in getting out in the rain. He had everything he needed right there. A loving family, a full, automatic feeder, and all the water he would want just a few steps away.

“The stream's slowing down," Sherman said. It seemed to be rising a bit as well. The big rock he liked to use as a table when it was dry was underwater now.

“When do you think the rain’s going to end?” He didn't think he could remember what the sun looked like. A week can be a long time when you’re cooped up in a house.

“There’s talk of the dam overflowing up north,” Adulfus said.

Sherman wondered what the flood might do to folk like Gramps. He hadn’t known Gramps before he was Gramps. They were high enough up that the water from the dam wouldn’t reach them if it burst, but the town nearby was right on the river. When heading into town, Sherman could see the top of the steeple. If the dam were to break, even that would be gone.

He wondered what the flood might do to them, like Gramps. He didn’t know where people like Gramps lived, but they had to be somewhere—and somewhere included down in town. Maybe they built their houses to float or at least keep out of the water.

He looked back to Adulfus. “Do you think Gramps will be staying here for a while?”

“He’s stayed here before.”

Sherman didn't remember that.

“Back when you were just a baby,” Adulfus said, “he came out and stayed a week. Unnerved a few of us.”

Sherman liked Gramps visiting. He brought presents for Christmas morning and joined the family after dinner for Thanksgiving. Sherman enjoyed hearing Gramps tell stories of all the places he’d been to.

One early Christmas morning, Sherman had run out to meet Gramps as he drove up. It was a chilly morning, and his breath hung in the air. But nothing came from Gramps.

“I’m just a cold person,” Gramps had said. “My circulation isn’t what it used to be.”

If Sherman listened for it now, he could hear the low roar of the river almost a mile away.

“Think the bridges are underwater?”

“We haven’t seen any cars on the road since yesterday,” Adulfus said, “but don’t worry. Your mother did a supply run right after the rain started. We should be good for another week or two.”

At least he wouldn’t have to go to school. He didn’t like school. The other kids never really accepted him as one of them. Even though Gramps had lived here when their parents were kids like him, they treated him like an outsider.

He had overheard some telling stories about where he lived. Gruesome and not true. No one had raided the cemeteries or stolen bodies from the morgue. No heads of dogs had been put on the bodies of cats. The homestead was just a farm that produced well.

“Everyone is jealous of us,” Gramps would say. “They can work hard just like the rest of us.”

Sherman picked up a pebble and chucked it into the stream.

“It looks like it’s slowing down,” Adulfus said. “I wouldn't worry about it tonight, though. It’ll slow down as it climbs. See how it spreads out the higher it gets?”

Sherman wasn't too interested in the geometry of the situation. Water creeping up would rise to the house eventually. Whether it was tonight or tomorrow only changed when they had to worry about it.

“Maybe the house will float away, and we’ll become pirates,” he said. That would be fun. No more school. No more being made fun of.

He imagined hoisting the Jolly Roger on the TV antenna. They'd float through town and wave goodbye to everyone. He hoped it would be during the day so they wouldn't have to worry about the night folk.

Those were scary. He saw them on TV in the evening. He knew they were people. His parents always told him not to judge based on looks, but something about their eyes creeped him out.

“You think Gramps would help us out?”

“He can’t just leave us here,” Adulfus said. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll do what we think he should.”

Sherman nodded and threw another pebble into the stream. Adults never did what you thought they should do. They were always pushing him to go outside and play with the neighbor kids when all he wanted to do was play on the computer. Why waste time hitting a ball with a piece of wood when he could be learning something useful? Controlling the computer was fun. It always did what he asked it to do. It never talked back. Never made fun of him. Never told stories about his family.

No use continuing to watch the stream rise and slow. Might as well go back in and see what the others were up to.

His cousins had come over as soon as the news started covering the dam.

“You never know what will happen,” Mary had said.

Mary was married to Adulfus, so not really part of the family except by law. Not a blood relation, anyway. Gramps was careful about making that distinction, not because outsiders were bad, but because the genetics were different. What might work for the rest of the family wouldn’t work for the in-laws.

The television showed the water several feet above the spillway. The camera zoomed in on a small section as the reporter voiced over about a few areas worrying the engineers.

“They’re expecting another week of rain,” Mother said as she came out of the kitchen.