No words

Amanda stared across the conference table, willing someone in the room to come up with the words - the rousing, call-to-action words they needed. The buzz of the fluorescent lights filled the space like call hold music and the muted TV screens showing the kaleidoscope of weather warnings cast a reddish-purple hue across the room. She stared at each person in turn to try and discomfort them into a brainwave.

“Maybe…” they all shifted toward the speaker, Stacey, a junior media relations assistant for the mayor’s office. She blushed at the sudden attention and then said, “No, no, it’s already up there”, shrinking back into her chair.

They deflated and turned back to their whiteboard list of rejects. Amanda wondered which one of the discarded phrases had found new life in the Stacey’s mind and if it was worth pursuing it. The girl struggled to fill even the most basic boilerplate press releases, the MadLibs of public service, but maybe she had a (deeply) hidden gift for crisis messaging. (You never know.)

She could see meteorologists on the TV screens as the local stations began their news hour. Her time was running out.

Amanda jumped up to the board and grabbed the marker.

“Let’s go over these again.”

Quiet groans fill the room, but pretending not to hear, she started her spiel once again.

“We have multiple flood gauges at Major flood stage and another storm coming through later this week. We will need to start evacuations tomorrow. What can we say to get our people to get themselves out of harm’s way?”

They went over all the usual scary words - urgent, high risk, life-threatening danger - and the preparedness messages - gather your valuables, be prepared to leave, make a plan - strayed into the unconventional - get your butt moving, the river is gonna get ya, the tide is high, but I’m can’t hold on - and so forth.

“We really need to be able to explain how and why this one will be different than anything they have experienced before.” Said Ralph, the local meteorologist.

“Isn’t it because of climate change? More water in the atmosphere, and all that?” said Stacey.

“Nope, we can’t say that anymore, it’s banned. We would lose our federal funding.” said Amanda resignedly. She didn’t really have strong opinions on politics, but she was frustrated that whole topics existed that they were no longer able to discuss. They already had such a hard time finding the words in the English language to explain to the public what was going on, before they started taking more away.

“We have to use local language. The stuff that we can relate to in our area.” Said Amanda.

“Ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here.” The mayor’s new campaign manager said. He had made the joke in the first round and they had all laughed, but with the heaviness of their frustration, it fell flat this time.  

“You know we’re not from the South, right? We don’t talk like that.” the high school intern, Madison, responded.

Technically the city sat below the Mason Dixon line, in a no man’s land right in the middle of all those geographic groupings. Since the trees that predominantly occupied the area during the Civil War hadn’t tried to secede, they didn’t have that inherent affiliation with the “South”, but geographically they probably were. The fast growth of the city had brought a diversity (no, can’t say that word anymore), a multitudinous array from across the country so that most people brought their geographic identity with them.

Amanda’s family went back to the beginning. During post WWII expansion, some of the original founders thought a dense forest between the big city and the mountains would be a great place to spread out. Now it was a medium city that acted like a small town, but her grandfather had been mayor back when it was a small town that acting like a medium city. He envisioned the exponential growth potential if they built the infrastructure and he had been right. Her father had been mayor when she was a child and started to throw around the term emergency management when all the big cities started doing it. Amanda had taken over the role of inaugural emergency management director when the city leaders decided having one would make them look like they was serious about this city-leading thing.  When she first started and the city was still growing, they had leaned in to all the new gizmo and gadgets being offered by federal and state agencies, like tornado sirens and nuclear decontamination equipment. They even pursued a tank (all the other cities were doing it) until Amanda pointed out that they didn’t have suitable place to house it (among other concerns). Since the current mayor took office, the first mayor not in her family, emergency management wasn’t as much a platform for the shiny new toys as an island for the misfit ones. Long term social issues, like homelessness (just old Hal who preferred a night out under the stars since his wife had kicked him out), became dire emergencies. So as Amanda spent her time as marriage counselor convincing Hal’s wife to take him back, she had less time to prepare people for likely emergencies like this one.

A text from their National Weather Service contact interrupted Amanda’s internal bemoaning. She yelled to the group, “Hey listen up. I just heard from the NWS that they are contemplating calling this a PDS, a Particularly Dangerous Situation.”

It did not have the effect she was expecting. In fact, it didn’t have much of an effect at all. Most of them looked around to each other, some confused, others on the verge of laughing, wondering which way the reaction would tip.

The campaign manager, looking to redeem himself from the earlier bomb, led the charge, saying, “Particularly Dangerous Situation, as opposed to an unspecific dangerous situation. Not just any dangerous situation, but a particularly dangerous situation.”

Amanda huffed, “It’s a big deal. It doesn’t happen very often. It’s the language they use to emphasize that it will be worse than you have even seen.”

They were unmoved. The press secretary mimed holding a teacup, pinkie raised, and said, “Pish posh, that spot of bother was indubitably a particularly dangerous situation.” In what she assumed was supposed to be a British accent but landed closer to the Caribbean.

As the meeting deteriorated, she decided that she had gotten all that she could out of this group and disbanded the team.

In her brief to the mayor, she recommended a mandatory evacuation for the low lying areas that would be inundated by the flood. To her surprise, he shook his head, saying, “No, we aren’t going to do any mandatory evacuations.”

“But sir, we need get those people to find higher ground, find safety. The main road down there will likely be washed out so even those who built up higher will be stranded.” Amanda replied.

“Yes, but that’s their choice. I’m not going to get hit with the angst for kicking people out of their homes months before the next election. We’ll make sure the message gets out and they will be responsible for their own safety.”

“But people assume that if the evacuation is only voluntary that the danger isn’t as bad.” Amanda countered.

“Amanda, you’ve told me yourself that most of those people won’t evacuate even if it is mandatory, so what’s the difference. Only my reelection chances. You can explain to the danger to them; that’s your job.”

She flinched at his tone, though she was unsure why. (Of course, he was right, it was her job. Just hoping for some support and camaraderie. We’re all in this together stuff.)

He continued, ignoring her discomfort, “Besides, I have a plan in the works that may save this town.” He puffed out his chest a bit, looking like a semi-inflated superhero balloon.

“Care to share?” Amanda said, dripping with skepticism.

He squinted at her, presumably thinking it over, but with his hands on his hips and chest slightly puffed out, he looked more like he was trying to shoot something at her from his eyes (or some other body part).

“Well, I’ll tell you. The developers up the mountain have been building a sort of off-book dam. They wanted to see if they could build a lake for the ski resort they have in mind. They just finished the structure when the water from this storm started filling it up.”

Her mind reeled at the dangers in building something without any study into the long-term effects, but she still wasn’t making the connection to how this would save them from the flood. She just looked at him questioningly.

“See, they built it near the top of the mountain, by plugging our little stream, they were able to fill a full lake in one of the valleys near the top of the mountain so they can drain it down the either side of the mountain. One easy demolition and this water is heading away from us.”

Her jaw dropped, horrified at the implications of how this could change the topography. There was no telling where the water would go or how it would affect their part of the river.

“But you can’t do that. We need to get the Army Corps of Engineers out here to see what the impacts would be.” She said.

“Yes, they will. That’s why this is a one-time deal. It’s a life-saving opportunity, which covers them on any liability for building the dam without permits. We know that if they don’t do this a large section of our city will flood and people will die. Doing this now will save our town from the flood this time.”

“This time.” Amanda repeated. The full weight of it pressed down on her. He wasn’t asking her opinion, but she felt that she had a choice to make, some responsibility now that she knew.

“Please let’s not do this. We have no idea where that water will go or how it will impact us in the long term.” She pleaded.

“It’s not really up to us. They are a private company. We can’t control their actions.” He replied.

She exploded on him, venting all the frustrations of the last hours well as the years of helplessness that any emergency manager feels knowing they may not be doing enough to prepare, “You are the mayor, the elected leader of this town. You have the authority to ensure that this company does not harm your community, that they… do the right thing.” She finished lamely, losing steam as she could not effectively articulate her self-righteous anger.

“Don’t you dare think you are better than me. Just because your family doesn’t run this town anymore doesn’t mean that I’m not trying to do what’s best for my community. Your father and grandfather would have done the same thing.” He said, pointing his finger for emphasis.

She stayed silent. She didn’t want to think that her family would put hundreds of lives in other areas in danger to save a few in their town…but she wasn’t sure.

The mayor softened to a patronizing air, “And besides, that’s what I’m doing. Letting them do this saves my constituents. Who can say it isn’t the right thing? We know that our people are not going to evacuate, no matter what we say. So this is the right thing to do.”

“We don’t know that they won’t evacuate. If we find the right phrasing, they may take the threat seriously.” She said, without much conviction.

“I’ll tell you what,” he took on an avuncular tone, “this group in red here”, he circled the flood hazard map, “the ones that will experience the life-threatening flood, not just the flooded basements, but a flooded home or being cut off due to flooded roads. There’s about 45 in that group. If you can get just one of them to promise to evacuate today, before the flood, then I’ll ask the company to call it off. You have until 4pm today to get one of them to promise me on the phone that they will leave their house tonight.”

She brightened at the possibility that she had some control over the situation, “Deal. We can make that happen.”

She turned to leave, excited to get on the task, but one thing irked her, “Why are you telling me all this? You could be liable if you knew about this and didn’t stop it.”

He smiled at her, “And now you have that liability too. Everyone knows you will try for my job one day, some think that you should in it now instead of me. But this way, if you try and stop it, then you will be choosing some other town over yours. And if you don’t stop it, then you are just as guilty as me for letting it happen.”

She sighed and walked out.

And so they went, Amanda and the young intern, knocking door to door trying to convince people to head to safety, just for a night or two. They heard all manner of excuses, for those that even bothered to give any before politely closing the door. One of the longer chats was with Nurse Patty. Retired now, she had been an obstetrics nurse for nearly the whole time the city had been a city, claiming to have support the births of half the population (unlikely).  Nurse Patty was 90 years old, housebound and dependent on oxygen. When her live-in daughter died last year, she was left alone with her cats while her grandkids beg her to move in with one of them.  

Amanda pleaded with her to evacuate before the storm. She offered every incentive she could legally give.

“If I need you to come get me, I’ll call you. And you better come when I call…I birthed you, your daddy, and your whole family.” (You’d think she had been doing the pushing)

Amanda threw up her hands in frustration. “If the river washes out the road, we won’t be able to come and get you no matter how many of my relatives owe their existence to you.”

“Don’t you sass me girl. I got grandkids and great-grandkids in every part of this government. One of y’all better come when I call.”

Nurse Patty had been born down South somewhere, she was never too specific about which part, but her family had moved here when she was a child. While people in this area didn’t have any specific accent, Nurse Patty had developed a manner of speaking that supported her firm but kind nurse persona. (Probably developed closer to Hollywood than anywhere on Patty’s birth certificate.)

Amanda turned it around on her, “Ok, if the river starts coming up, I’m going to send an ambulance down here and you better get in.”

Nurse Patty said, “I’m not going in no ambulance, honey. They won’t let me take my cats with me in an ambulance and I can’t leave them here if the water is coming up.”

“Fine, we’ll send the animal control van down and we can gather up all the cats to go with you.”

“That’be fine then. But don’t you worry. I don’t think we’re going to need it. I can tell it in my bones.”

Even Amanda’s best friend, Laney, refused to leave. She was about-to-pop pregnant with two small children at home.

“Please, I’m begging you to just stay somewhere else for the night. Just to be safe. You have participated in every preparedness event I have ever hosted!”

“Oh, I know, get a kit and make a plan. I did all those things, but you see, the kids schedule will get all messed up and it takes forever to get them back. I would rather just stay here until we see how bad it is going to get. If the river starts coming up, then we’ll leave.”

“But it could be too late by then, the road will flood first. Why don’t you just head over to your parents? The kids stay there all the time.” Amanda pleaded.

“Well now, how can you ask me that? You know that we aren’t talking. My mom let my sister take the baby name I was thinking about for this one. She knew better and she didn’t say anything. I’m not talking to either of them.” She said, rubbing her hand on her protruding belly.

Amanda sighed. (How could she have forgotten this riveting tale?) She tried one last effort, “But don’t you think you all could make peace if the kids’ lives are in danger?”

Her bestie responded, “Well if we die because she wouldn’t apologize, then it serves her right.”

Amanda headed back to the mayor’s office, defeated.  

Over the next two days, Amanda watched as the raging flood hit unsuspecting small towns all over the valley on the other side of the mountain. The devasting effects compounded by the lack of notice or preparedness for an event that could never have been predicted. They abused the meteorologists for not giving warning and railed against local officials for not issuing evacuation orders or mitigating against the flood.

As she drove through the destruction to offer her support in the recovery, she allowed herself for just a moment that one evil thought that maybe it was better that way. They would have someone else to blame other than themselves. She knew that when the next storm came to her community, the tragedy would be the same whether they have the notice or not, because she didn’t have the words to prevent it.