I went down one more step, and then another.

“The water has slowed down,” my father said.

“It’s still the same height, though. It hasn’t fallen.”

“Not fallen. Not rising. It’s an ocean now, not a river. I think I’m okay to go out there.”

“You can’t do that!” I screamed.

“No choice. I don’t think they can hold on much longer.” He pointed.

There was a woman holding a small child—more like a baby, a year or so old—clinging to a tree with her free hand.

“I’m coming!” my father yelled out to her, and she looked over at us with pleading, terrified eyes.

“There’s hardly any current at all now,” he said.

I was scared, but if anybody could do it, it was my father.

He let himself go and swam toward her. There was a wooden chair—a chair from the lobby—spinning toward him. He bumped into the chair, pushed it out of the way, and then swam to the woman. She let go of the tree and wrapped her one arm desperately around his neck. She was struggling, clawing at him, and for a second she pushed his head beneath the surface. He popped back up and I could see him talking to her, trying to calm her. She settled down then and stopped struggling and grabbed the tree again.

She released her baby into his left arm and then put both her arms around the tree. Was it my imagination or was that tree tilting over to one side?

With the baby tucked under one arm my father began to side-stroke toward the stairwell. At first it looked as though he wasn’t moving, but he slowly came closer and closer. I reached out as far as I could and plucked the baby from his arm. Its eyes were wide open, a look of terror on its face. It didn’t struggle or cry as it was handed from one stranger to another.

“Bring the baby up to your mother. I’m going back for the mom.”

I sloshed up the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and my other arm tightly wrapped around the kid. I didn’t want to trip, but more importantly, I didn’t want to drop the baby. We hit the landing—wasn’t that above the water level before?—and turned up the steps to the second level. The second step up was above water.

“Mom!” I yelled as I reached the top. She was on her knees beside the woman we’d already rescued. She was holding a cloth, a pool towel, against the cut on the side of the woman’s head. It was stained with blood.

“A baby? But where is its—?”

“Dad’s gone back for the mother. Here.”

She took the baby and I raced back down. Hitting the water on the landing, I looked over the railing. I was in time to see Dad and the woman together, holding onto the tree. Why was he still out there? Why hadn’t he come back?

“Dad!” I yelled.