There was only this

I am perched on a sturdy branch high up in a Douglas Fir atop Pine Mountain. The sun is touching my face, and I am in a trance staring into the water that has formed a Bay in the valley below. I watch the circling hawks and turkey vultures, floating gracefully, spiraling with the wind currents. There! That one is Foose. “Foose!”

Foose has a bigger body and wider wingspan than the other hawks. His coloring is a light brown.

From my perch, I watch Foose hunt a fledgling. He easily catches it with his talons and comes over to my tree, choosing a branch near mine to devour it. His right eye stares at me, slight head tilt.

I exhale sharply; he’s about to lift off. I spring to action, I want to join.

I scramble to unplug my phone from the small solar battery charger that was included in my County-issued emergency go bag. I put phone, water bag, and dried salmon scraps into my puffy jacket side and breast pockets. Ready.

Jumping off the branch is the hardest part. My biological instincts have not adapted to this new ability to float in the air, defy gravity.

Foose leans forward over the branch and soars. I dive with outstretched arms into the vast openness to follow. Yes! It worked! I open my mouth in an astonished, breathy laugh. The air pushes back under me, and I am flying.

I fly in his slipstream, following the lines he takes through the air. I imitate his form and when a gust of wind passes, I respond as he does, calmly with a slight tilt, dip, or change in elevation. I fly slightly above Foose, in order to not have to lift my neck to see his position. If I look up, my face will be smacked hard with wind and produce drag.

For the past 21 days, Foose and I have embarked on daily four- to five-hour long flights. I eat dried salmon en route when we have a tailwind, and I can get out of aero position to bring food to my mouth. Every flight I gain strength, skill, new muscle memory, and knowledge.

Today we veer South, into the fog and towards the remains of the City. The City is entirely underwater. Circular currents have formed around the tallest landmarks; what should be Sutro Tower, Bernal Heights park, the Salesforce Tower. We soar. The deep green and blue frigid Pacific Ocean waters cover everything in all directions. Looking East towards former Berkeley, Oakland I see only ocean until the horizon, with Mount Hamilton and Mount Diablo poking through the water like mystical islands. Southward, there is no visible Skyline mountain range marking the Peninsula.

I check my phone for signal, so far to no avail.

My eyes are blurry and rendered mostly useless from the cold air and wind. Perhaps that’s why I have yet to see another human, 21 days since the tsunami. I am sure there are other survivors. I imagine them in boats, or in blimps, or perhaps, like me, they have discovered how to fly.

I feel strongly, stubbornly that my parents and brother must be alive. When the water rose, my parents were in Palo Alto, and my brother was in the Swiss Alps.

Foose and I circle above underwater San Francisco, in the quiet, warm air between the undulating dark waves and the fog blanket. I turn on my phone again to check for reception.

My stomach drops and my heart beats into my ears: Two bars! I have two bars of ATT reception!

Foose is soaring off further Southeast. I let him go and turn over on my back like a sea otter, floating ten feet in the air above the waves, cradling my phone on my belly.

Texts start coming in.

SMS From: Dad

Are you okay? Your Mom and I are safe.

SMS From: Dad

Checking in again. Are you okay?

We are in underwater City of Palo Alto bunker. Mini city set up here w 43,200 people. Some pets. No windows. Weird air pressure but we are adapting.

SMS From: Dad

Testing. Testing. Third Monday here in PA bunker. Learned from NOAA-20 satellites that an asteroid has collided into the coast of Sapporo, Japan. Huge tsunami, most of planet Earth is underwater. Water expected to recede from land masses over the course of months.

SMS From: Dad

‘Gazpacho’ from canned tomatoes isn’t so bad!

SMS From: Dad

PA Bunker has made contact with other municipal, private and United States official bunkers. Government and communication networks are forming. Most humans seem to be underwater. SpaceX Big Falcon Rocket has 80 VIPs traveling to International Space Station. I’ve been appointed to the Engineering Council.

I started crying, weeping, screaming to the sky: “Dad!! Mom!!” My thumbs set in motion.

SMS To: Dad, Mom

“ DAD!!!! MOM!!!! I’m okay!

I love you so much I am so glad you are ok! Where is Ben?

I just got all your messages today, 9.15.2022 at 14:00. First time I have 2 bars of ATT signal, here in a position above San Francisco. I am living in a giant tree, in Forest Knolls. I learned to fly. Plenty of salmon to eat and filtering water to drink. Cell phone charging through weak solar battery.

I sent the message and then tried calling, noting the low battery level on my phone. My call went straight to voicemail. I cried with joy as I heard my Dad’s voicemail greeting. I left a message.

SMS To: Brother Unit

BEN! It’s 9.15.2022. I am OK. Where are you?

Tomorrow I would return here and bring the solar battery with the hope that there would be no fog and I could try calling again, and again, and again.

I zipped my phone into my pocket and flipped over to head home. Progress was slow, the air was damp and thick. Foose had disappeared, so no slipstream to follow homeward, North into the headwind.

My thoughts raced: Mom and Dad were OK! They were alive! They had survived and were under the Earth’s water! I had survived! I could fly! Maybe they could fly now, too.

I lay awake in the treetop that night, gazing up at the stars. With no light pollution, the milky way was wildly clear. I felt safe, grounded, improbably alive in this universe as a breathing little human.

My parents were under this Earth’s water. They were here. My brother must be too, on a mountaintop in Switzerland. What about others? I started to wish we could be together but instinctively buried that feeling of deep longing.

I fell asleep curled in my pine needle nest with the warm glow of Hope coursing through my veins. Indeed, I should have liked to live this new life within my old life, but there was only this.