animals, after all—but there are tree branches and debris in the water, swept in by the rain, and they could easily get hurt.
I nod, and we get to work.
I prepare one of the inside pens before going back to get Luna and Lennon. They seem happy to follow me out of the storm when I herd them through the door, using a large strip of plastic to coax them in the right direction. Quint stays outside, working to relocate the animals from the flooded pools to some of the enclosures that are closer to the building.
I get some blankets for Lennon and Luna to help them stay warm. The rain wasn’t that cold, but now that they’re inside, I want them to get dry as quickly as possible. I find a couple of their toys, too, thinking it might help them feel more at home, but the toys I toss into the enclosure go ignored. Luna piles herself on top of Lennon, tucking her head against his neck. I can’t tell if she’s afraid or just tired.
At least they’re safe. I lock their gate and am halfway to the back door when an odd burbling noise catches my ear. I turn in a full circle, trying to figure out where it’s coming from, when I look over the nearest wall into an enclosure that’s currently empty.
The drain in the middle of the floor is overflowing.
Water is coming up from the ground.
My eyes widen. “Quint!” I yell. Turning, I sprint down the hallway and burst out into the yard just in time to see Quint latching the fence behind the last of the relocated animals. “Quint, the drains! They’re … water is coming up and … what do we do?”
He frowns at me for a second, then runs past me to see for himself. A second later, he’s on the phone to his mom. He’s breathless as he tries to explain to her that we’re here at the center, we moved the animals, but the drains are flooding. I can hear her steady voice on the other side of the call, coaching him in what to do.
We find flood gates for the doors and plugs for the drains exactly where Rosa said they would be. The next few minutes are chaos as Quint and I run around the building, plugging the drains. I find one of our newer patients, an elephant seal, sleeping on top of one, and I have a long internal debate about whether we could just leave him there to keep the water at bay, but eventually Quint and I decide to wake him up and get him to move so we can plug the drain for real.
I’m exhausted by the time we have the center secured and the animals taken care of. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. A very wet marathon.
“I’m going to call my mom again,” says Quint, sounding equally breathless. “See what else we should be doing.”
I nod. “I’ll make the rounds one more time, make sure everyone’s doing okay.”
My shoes slip and squelch on the linoleum floor as I check on the animals in their pens. Most are sleeping, oblivious to the storm, but Lennon and Luna are awake. Luna is still draped over Lennon like a rag doll, her flippers covering her eyes.
I open the gate. They both startle. Lennon presses his flippers against the tile, trying to scoot farther into the corner, but he can barely shift with Luna’s weight on top of him. It’s the first time I’ve seen either of them act afraid. Usually they perk up when one of the volunteers shows up, expecting food. I regret not bringing a couple of fish with me.
“Hey, guys,” I murmur, stepping closer. It’s a constant battle to remind myself that they’re still wild animals. They could be dangerous, especially when they’re frightened.
But they don’t move as I slide down to sit on the tiled floor. I grab a slightly deflated beach ball and roll it toward them. It bounces off Lennon’s nose. He shakes his head in surprise. It’s dark in here, but not so dark that he shouldn’t have seen that. I wonder if his eyes have gotten worse in the last couple of days.
Luna rolls off him and then they’re both plodding toward me. Luna’s head nudges my thigh and I spend a few minutes stroking their fur. “That’s some intense rain out there, isn’t it?” I say, trying to keep my voice soothing. “But it’s