"Grandpa! Let's go into the river!" I said. My two little, plump legs try to keep up with his normally slow pace. My grandfather picked me up under the elbows and carried me on his shoulders. I pointed a the small stream- which at the time I thought was a river- that was surrounded by meadows of golden corn. The clear, light blue water ran through the sandy banks and carried a myriad of fish towards the greater oceans beyond the mountains. The fishs' scales added another layer of luster to the already reflective surface of the river. Reds, blues, yellows, oranges, purples were all engendering rainbows on the surface of the stream with help from the radiance of the sun. Grandfather was walking on a first road, casually picking ears of corn and placing them into his basket. I knew what that meant, smoked corn with salt and spices. It made my mouth drool. Other than the field of corn, there weren't any large trees that I could see or any small vegetation along the edges of the stream. It was because the land was used for agriculture and in favor of supporting wildlife- whether it was flora or fauna.
My grandfather spoke to me in a gentle voice, "Alright, Vincent, let's get you over to the stream. But, make sure you don't venture too far." He emphasized the word 'stream' so that I would learn it.
I replied while grabbing hold of his hair with my miniature fingers, "OK, Grandpa! I won't go far in the s..trea..m."
My grandfather laughed and said, "Vincent, repeat after me. Seam."
Easily I repeated, "Seam."
"Trim, tram, tream."
I repeated again, "Trim, tram, tream. Is tream a word, Grandpa?"
"Nope, just made it up. Now, say strim, stram, stream."
I tried, "Strim, stram, s...trea...m?"
He chuckled, "It doesn't work does it?"
I responded shyly, "I don't think it did, Grandpa."
We both laughed out loud before he said, "I was just bullshitting you, Vincent. You'll learn it on your own soon enough."
I paused and held my breath before I said, "GRANDPA! THAT'S A FOUL WORD!!"
My grandfather reached the stream and set me down on one of the large flat rocks. "What is?"
I hesitated to say it, "B-U-L-L-Shit."
"Why didn't you spell out the whole thing?"
"I-I sort of...forgot." I played with my fingers to avoid meeting his gaze.
"You know, sometimes I forget that your only two years old. But, I'm sorry for saying it out loud." He patted my head. "I'll teach you all the ones that I know when you're old enough, so we can both say them together!"
"..."
"Well anyway, Grandson, in you go!" He picked me up by my arms and flung me into the deeper end of the stream.
"Grandpa! NOO!!!" My entire back crashed into the clear water, sending ripples that disturbed the tranquil rainbow on the surface. It was almost freezing and chills ran up my spine and to my head. My teeth began to chatter loudly; my feet became numb; my hair drained down to cover my eyes. "GRANDPA!!!! HELP!!! I'M DROWNING!!!" I flailed my arms in the air signaling for his help.
Then, I noticed that no one was coming. Instead, I heard my grandfather's voice, "Vincent, you know you're already standing upright in the stream, right? The water only comes up to your chest."
Huh? I wiggled my toes to find mushy mud in between them. He was right. I adjusted my hair so that I could see my grandfather taking off his major articles of clothing and joining me. The water only came up to his shins, but he lay down in the water, embracing the coldness that surrounded him. I did the same. Grandpa called out to me, "Vincent, feel the stillness of the water. Try to be still with it. Don't be scared when the cold washes over you. Vincent...Vincent..."
***
"VINCENT! VINCENT!" My eyes immediately shot open to see George and Bill hovering over me. I looked at them with alarmed eyes.
Bill yelled at me first, "Vincent! The WATER is RISING!!!"
George dragged me onto my feet and tied me together with the supplies that I would have to carry. His aggressive tone sparked some life into me, "Vincent, the water is rising. It's already up to our shins. Your back is covered with water, so it might feel cold. But, we have to get going! Now!"
My spine sent a chill towards my brain. Along the way all of my other nerves fired up, making my entire body explode with consciousness. I vividly feel the coldness on my body. It was sapping me of my warmth. 'Vincent...don't sacred of the coldness...' I heard my grandfather. His tender voice allowed me to regain my composure as I took in my situation. Now that I was standing, I could see that the ocean's water level had risen up to my shin. If I guess right, then around a hundred feet of the beach should be flooded. I focused through the crevices of the palm leaf roof; sunlight was pouring in, symbolizing that it was high-noon. "Why is it suddenly high noon? Did we sleep that long?" I questioned.
George rapidly gave the answer, "Yes. We only woke up because of the water."
I looked at both of them and nodded my head. I took my club and burst through the flimsy palm leaf wall. "Let's go!"
***
We were away from the beach by maybe two miles. This would give us enough time to recuperate our senses and organize our thoughts. As we hacked and slashed our way through the jungle, we found a clearing with wooden logs set as benches. It was suspicious at first because the clearing had clean wooden logs arranged in a triangular shape with a small circle of rocks in the center. Upon further inspection, I noticed that it was just a campsite that another team had built before they moved on. The rocks were to contain the fire that they fed. We each chose our own log and sat on it. I voiced my ideas first, "I think we should try our best to clear out of the jungle biome and make it to the desert as fast as possible."
George nodded his head and added, "On the path over here, I counted seven sources of water. Ponds, lakes, and maybe six small streams. They might not be big, but I don't think that size matters."
Bill said, "I agree, the ocean rose at an inconsistent pace. Almost as if they were controlling the amount of water in random increments. It didn't rise like how you would imagine. I can't really describe it in words." He gesticulated as he spoke about the water levels being pushed out further at one point in time, but then retracted enormously at another point. I could kind of make sense of it.
I concluded the brief respite by saying, "Let's get moving, I can hear some of the water tricking towards us." It wasn't a lie to get them moving either; after I pointed it out, the twins could also hear it. The discreet but distinct sound of water coiling around vegetation, slithering over smooth stones, and trickling down steep slopes. Chills went up to my spine, again. "Let's keep going."