Not Flesh Nor Feathers (Eden Moore 3)

1

Water, Water Everywhere

The Tennessee River has swollen again, and nothing stops it. Not the locks or the dams. Not the TVA. I know that it was different once—that Chattanooga was a crossroads, alive and healthy; a place of promise and opportunity. But like all things left wet for too long, it warps. It rots. And now it would drown us all to keep us.

The great gorge fills, and the city sinks behind me.

In 1973 when the river last rose like this, my aunt Louise was fourteen years old and my mother Leslie was eleven. They lived on the north shore of the city, but this was back before the neighborhoods were renovated into quirky suburbia. There was no sprawling green park or blue-topped carousel with vintage-look horses.

On the very spot where the lion fountains spit water streams in the summer, there once was a closed-up armory. Like all things utilitarian and military, it was gray and smooth with no hint of ornamentation. It was a work building—a barn for the army’s cast-off supplies, surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Lu said she never saw anyone come in or out of the place, and so far as the neighborhood kids knew, it was deserted—and therefore a target. This is a story I had to drag out of her throat, word by word.

She’s never liked to talk about my mother.

By the time the girls reached the armory, it had stopped raining and the river lapped up against the rocky bank at the bottom of the short hill. The chain-link fence was twisted open in more than one place, and any of those holes was big enough to fit a teenaged girl through.

It was a neighborhood game: who could get inside fastest, who could find the coolest souvenir. Who could stay inside the longest without getting scared.

“It’s empty,” Lu assured her little sister. “There’s nothing in there but a bunch of old equipment, and most of it’s covered up. I don’t know why you’re so keen to get inside. ”

“Because you and Shelly went without me last week. ” Leslie sulked, peeling the fence back and holding it tight. “That’s why. ”

Lu ducked underneath and took Leslie’s hand to bring her through the hole. “If I’d known you’d make such a stink about it, I’d’ve brought you sooner. Now’s not a good time. It could start raining again any minute, and things are flooding up. ”

“It’s got to be now, while Momma’s asleep. You were the dummy who got caught. If you hadn’t got caught, we could go on Sunday. ”

“We could still go on Sunday if you really want. ”

Leslie sniffed. “Can not. You’re grounded. ”

“Only so long as she knows where I’m at. ” Lu pointed up at a broken window. “That’s the best way in. There’s—” She cut herself off. A fat raindrop splashed down onto her cheek. “Jeez. Hurry up. It’s starting again. ”

Though the girls looked much alike, Lu was the older, taller, and stronger of the pair. Her hair was knotted into black braids and her jeans were ratty around the knees, showing brown skin and scabs where she’d fallen one time too many. She put her shoulder against a sopping wet crate and shoved it hard. It inched its way to a spot beneath the window. “Hang on, it’s high. I’ll get another one so you can step up. ”

“No, I got it. ” Leslie hoisted herself onto the crate and poked at the broken bits of glass. She glanced down at her cutoff shorts and wished they reached farther down her legs.

“Don’t touch those. Look. Someone reached inside and unlocked it. ” Lu pushed the frame and it scraped against the sill. “Hurry up and get inside. Aw, shit. ”

“That’s a quarter for the swears jar. ”

“Not unless Momma hears me, it’s not. Get in, and get your look around. We’ve got to be fast. ”

“Why?”

“Look at the river. ”

Leslie glanced over her shoulder, out to the south and to the bridges. “Wow. I’ve never seen it like that before. It’s right at the edge of the building. Usually it stays down by the rocks. ”

“Yeah, it does. This is way too high, and I think it’s getting higher. Look at that boat over there. It used to be tied down at the dock. Look where it is now. ”

“Whoa. ”

Lu shoved at her sister’s bottom. “Go on. For real. ”

“I’m going. What are you, scared?”

“Not of anything inside, no. But I don’t like the look of that water. It shouldn’t be so high. ” Even as she spoke, gray waves knocked themselves against the south end of the old armory. They beat a slapdash time there, creeping up along the cin-derblock walls.