Flash Fiction: I'm NOT on a boat

The three workers retreated to the factory's upstairs level while the flood waters continued to rise.
They'd been lucky enough to move most of the smaller machines and woodworkings from the lower level the night before, but even then, spindles of clear river silt seeped in through the bay doors, ominously foreshadowing what was to come.
For his part, Mike Reed just hoped the factory would survive.
He'd worked there for the past 15 years, taking over as owner three years back after Kip Dalanger died.
Mike was a tough worker -- Kip always said so -- and he never shied away from putting in extra hours to make sure the job got done right. For five years Mike apprenticed under Kip and the crusty old man had shown him everything he'd known.
Now, as the three men sat staring out at the pale reflection of the moon in the rising flood waters, Mike found himself thinking of Kip.
What would the old man have done in this situation? Would he have gone down with the ship? Risking his own life and the life of his men to save some of the few furniture pieces on the first floor?
Probably, Mike thought.
"Man, oh. It sure it getting dicey out there," Guy Fogel said. "Them's water's just keep on coming. Lords yes!"
Mike liked Guy. In many ways he treated him like Kip had treated him many years ago. Guy was a hard worker. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was loyal and a boarderline genius when it came to woodworking. He'd produced nearly 500 chairs in the past year, nearly double his closest rival.
So it wasn't terribly surprising that Guy was the first man to volunteer for flood preparations when last week's weather report revealed not one, but two severe hurricanes coming to hit the state in the coming week.
"We should be fine as long as we stay up here" Mike told Guy. "Besides, it's too dangerous to leave now. The water is still rising, and it must be at least 10 feet deep all around here. I ain't never seen nothing quite like this."
The water was indeed something. After the first appearance of leaks under the doors last night it had only taken 30 minutes for the entire lower floor to be covered in muddy, ankle deep water. They'd been fortunate enough to remove most of the finished woodpieces and hastily deposit them upstairs, but some of the exposed electrical wiring and heavier, more expensibe machinary was going to eat it for sure. The three of them simply didn't have the time, nor the manpower to save em'.
In under three hours the water was at all of their shoulders. And when Mike saw Guy struggling to keep his head above the brown filth as he hauled an antique desk above his head he decided it was time to call it quits. The three men made their way up the stairs, closing the door and hoping for the best. They were going to have to rife this one out.
They waited for the entire night.
The rain kept coming.
At dawn the downpour broke for several hours, but the percipitation remained constant. The water levels had risen to a few inches below the second floor windows and the trio was seriously beginning to wonder if they would be forced to evacuate to the roof.
But their shared silent reveire was then interrupted by a distant sound.
Closer and closer the sound apporached, before eventually distinguishing itself as the sound of an apporaching motorboat, the Fire Dept's old shanty, by the sound of it.
The men pressed their faces to the window and sure enough it was the fire department. Gus Farks at the helm stroking his beard absently as he scanned around the factory for any survivors.
Mike threw open the window. "Hey! Gus! We're over here! Gus! Hey!"
Gus turned, startled, and threw the throttle of his boat forward. Eventually coming to a quiet rest a few inches below the men perched out of the factory's second story window.
"Well I'll be damned! If it ain't Mike and his crazy crew. How are you boys doing? We better getcha outta there. Flood waters are continuing to rise. Fifteen homes have up and disappeared already. Nobody knows where old man Jenkins is, neither. It's bad Mikey, real bad."
"Well, where's that rope, anyway?" Guy asked
Gus tossed the thick line out ................

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