Rousseau planted both fists on the railing and surveyed the crowd. “Here’s the reality. Even a hundred Stormies are too many for us to fight off in open combat. If we retreat inside, they’ll lay siege, and we’ve sent too much of our food and water upriver, along with most of our able-bodied men and women. We couldn’t hold out for long. We don’t have enough boat space left for both people and cargo, and then there’s . . .” He glanced up, raising an open palm.

Like a sign from above, it had started to rain.

“So here it is: we’re going to off-load cargo till we make room enough to get everyone out of here. Stuff can be replaced. People, never. We need to go! Now!”

Maxine stepped up beside him to signal agreement, though she didn’t look happy about it. “The trip up takes an hour and some for a power boat hauling with the tide—which turns in three hours. We don’t want to be working against it. Let’s move!”

“The coward’s choice!” Doyle yelled. “Go on, turn tail! And while you’re sneaking off, Tall Tommy will be up along the rooftops, picking off fuckin’ Stormies one by one! Join us, if you’ve got the nerve!”

He roused his dozen or so hangers-on and waved in his escort boats to pick them up. But the two out past us at the Lagoon’s far end were raising a new alert.

“Intruders to the south! Possible enemy advance!”

Seconds later, Unca Joe’s downtown sentries added to the clamor. Again, everyone grabbed for a weapon. Doyle stood tall on his float, his face alight. Perfect timing.

The rain was blowing up a fine mist, fogging the distance. Vague shapes approached up Third Avenue, but it was hard to ID them. A low humming like a busy hive mingled with the wind noise, rising as it neared.

Old fears die hard. I shrank against Daniel. “Is it the surge? Already?”

“Can’t be. Sounds more like . . .”

Breakers swayed on tippy-toe, like she was dancing. “Holy crap! Holy fuck!”

“What? What?” demanded Daniel.

“I don’t believe it!” She fought for footing on the wet, windblown roof. “It’s boats!”

“But whose?”

On the roof, she had a better vantage point, but once I wiped the mist from my eyes, I could just make them out, a long convoy of low, dark boats. Maybe six or eight of them.

Daniel unlatched the starboard stern locker and fumbled for a pair of binoculars. As he stared through them, his alarm eased into puzzlement.

“Is it Revelations?”

“No . . . it’s . . . a fleet of water taxis?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” crooned Breakers. “It’s . . .”

“Wait! Don’t say it!” Grinning, he handed me the binocs. “Have a look.”