PART 3 — THE RESCUE

Cal tucked the baby inside his waterproof jacket and pressed her against his chest.

The little girl was barely making a sound.

Her lips were pale.

Her eyes remained closed.

The German Shepherd watched every movement.

She didn’t growl.

She didn’t panic.

She simply followed the baby with her eyes.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” I said.

I reached toward her.

The house groaned again.

The roof shifted underneath us.

The dog scrambled for traction.

Her paws slipped on the wet shingles.

I lunged.

My arm caught underneath her chest just as the section beneath her collapsed.

Seventy pounds of wet dog pulled against me.

For one terrifying second, I thought she was going to drag both of us into the flood.

Cal slid down toward the gutter.

He caught the ladder with one hand while keeping the baby pressed against his chest with the other.

“Got her!” I shouted.

I pulled with everything I had.

The Shepherd’s claws scraped against the roof.

Then she was in my arms.

I dragged her toward the ladder.

Behind us, another section of the roof cracked.

“Move!”

We scrambled downward.

Cal reached the boat first.

He climbed over the gunwale with the baby still secured inside his jacket.

I shoved the German Shepherd into the bottom of the boat and jumped in after her.

“Hit it, Ghost!”

The motor roared.

The boat surged backward.

We tore through the branches of the drowned maple tree.

Then the house gave way.

The remaining walls folded inward.

The roof disappeared into the brown water with a tremendous roar.

The exact place where the dog had been standing vanished beneath the current.

Ten seconds earlier, we had been standing there.

Now there was nothing.

Cal sat heavily on the bench.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then he opened his jacket.

The baby’s eyes fluttered.

She let out a tiny cry.

It was the most beautiful sound I’d heard that morning.

The German Shepherd immediately stood.

She stumbled across the wet floorboards.

Then she reached Cal.

She rested her muddy chin on his knee.

She looked down at the baby.

And gently licked the little girl’s forehead.

Only then did she make a sound.

It wasn’t a bark.

It was a long, deep sigh.

Almost as if she had finally allowed herself to breathe.

But we still didn’t know how the baby had ended up there.

And we didn’t know what had happened to her parents.

We were about to find out.