My house is nothing like Trish's. It's an old two story brick farm house. The floors are old worn wood that creak almost everywhere you step, unless you spent hours figuring out where they don't. I might be guilty of that. I don't have any siblings. I don't even have parents to welcome me home. Instead I have two guardians who adopted me for the soul reason that the government pays them a fat check every year for taking care of me.

"Adie?" I hear Gretchen call from the kitchen. She's an old spirit in the way that the kitchen is her domain. She sees is as a failure if dinner isn't on the table when Henry gets in from the fields.

I slip off my flip flops and hook them on my fingers. "Yes it's me," I call. I don't move away from the door. Gretchen's silhouette appears in the doorway at the end of the hall.

"Where have you been?" she asks.

"I was out with Rag and Trish," I tell her even though she knows already who I was with. She flips the hallway light on and suddenly everything comes into focus. The hallway has a small desk with a telephone perched on it, above it there are frames of photos from Gretchen and Henry's younger years. There a photo's of their two full grown children and their families. One could search all day and they'd never know that I lived in this house or that I existed at all.

"Why are you wearing those clothes? What happened?" she demands.

"We were down at the river, Rag was goofing off and I fell into the water when he bumped into me. It's no big deal, Trish lent me her clothes and Tyler just dropped me off. That's why I'm late. I'm sorry," I know it's better to apologize now even though I've done nothing wrong.

Gretchen puts her hands on her hips. She's wearing one of her old flower print dresses, the one that went out of style about forty years ago. She's barefoot and her curly peppered hair is pulled back in a messy bun. There are two pencils sticking out of it. She looks like she has antlers but I refrain from saying anything of the sort. Not unless I wanted a wooden spoon to find its way against my rear. She always says I'm never too old for a good old fashioned beating. I don't doubt for a second that she believes it and would follow through with the threat.

"Well go get dressed. Henry will be home any second and I'll not have you delaying dinner. Now shoo." She turns the light off and goes back into the kitchen. I breathe a sigh of relief and take the stairs two at a time.

My room isn't really my room. I'm more like a temporary residence, as evidence by the fact that there is nothing here that belongs to me except the clothes that are folded in the dresser under the window. The room belonged to their daughter when she grew up here. There are photos of horses and old actors on the walls. The flowered wallpaper has begun to peel away at the edges. I've never been allowed to touch or change anything in this room, because when my interview comes and I turn eighteen I will be released from my guardians care. It will be my responsibility to start my own new life and I have no doubt Gretchen will kick me out of her house. Unless the virus is found to be harboring itself inside my blood, then something else entirely will happen to me.

I shake my head, refusing to think about it. Tyler is wrong. I am not a Misfit. I'm not. But even I'm beginning to lose sight of things that were once so clear to me. If I'm not a Misfit, then how do I explain what happened to me today? I shake my head again. I don't want to think about the ocean.

Keep it together Adie. The virus kills people. It doesn't turn them into water filtering mutant freaks.

I change into my own clothes. They aren't much to look at, mostly old hand me downs of what Gretchen's daughter used to wear. Old jeans, most of them are bleached and ripped, and loose t-shirts that never quite properly fit. Gretchen's daughter wasn't only taller than me, but she had bigger boobs too.

When I hear the backdoor open I know Henry is home and it's time for dinner. A second later I hear my name being called loudly. I go downstairs. "Wash your hands Adie," Gretchen says when my feet hit the first floor. I slip into the small hallway bathroom and wash my hands with the homemade goats' milk soap that Gretchen buys from our neighbor Mr. Melberry. He has goats and we have sheep. I'm not sure which I hate more.

Henry is already sitting in his chair at the head of the table. Gretchen is dishing him out a generous portion of mashed potatoes. Henry's two sheep dogs Missy and Jack are eating their dinner out of their bowls in the corner, ravenous from a day of herding the sheep.

The kitchen is warm and smells like potatoes and butter. I take my seat in the chair closest to the hallway and Gretchen fills my plate. The one good thing living in this household is that I have never gone hungry. Gretchen and Henry successfully raised two children of their own and they believe whole heartedly that good homemade meals are a big help toward that success. Even though they believe I'm a lost cause I'm still fed like I'm a nineteen year old male instead of a seventeen year old girl.

When we are finally ready to eat there's lamb, green beans, squash, and mashed potatoes spilling over my plate. Jack comes and lies at my feet and missy goes to sit by Henry. Jack actually likes me and Missy tolerates my existence like everyone else. They know they will be fed scraps, mostly by me since I wouldn't be able to finish my dinner. I don't remember a time when I have been able to eat all the food put in front of me.

"It's going to rain tonight," Henry says to make conversation. I look up at him. He's got short gray hair that he keeps under an old plaid cap when he's not in the house. He almost always wears old knee high rubber barn boots and heavy wool clothes. I can't blame him; if I were outside with sheep all day I'd wear the same thing to keep warm. Henry is a tough old man; on the weekends I help him walk the perimeter of his lands and fields to check the fences. There's always work to do on the farm and though I get tired after the hours of labor Henry never gets out of breath.

"Will you have to bring the sheep down from the upper pasture?" Gretchen asks with a frown.

Henry nods, "I'm going back out after I finish here. I can't risk losing a flock because I was too lazy to go get them." I look out the dark window. I remember seeing clouds far off in the distance, but if Henry says it's going to rain, then it's going to rain. If he's bringing the sheep in from the pasture then he also must thing that it's going to be a decent storm.

Gretchen nods and we go back to eating our dinner. In the end I've given nearly everything to Jack, who eats without complaint. I'm grateful he's not a picky eater otherwise I'd be stuck with mountains of green beans and squash until Judgment Day. When everyone has finished I wash the dinner dishes and Henry puts on his cap and whistles to the dogs. They run out the door and hop into the back of Henry's old truck without further encouragement. Henry gives Gretchen a kiss before leaving. I watch the lights of the truck pull out away from the house.

Gretchen works silently with me by drying the dishes and putting them away. I've never dried the dishes because Gretchen doesn't trust me to put anything back in its proper place. Or maybe she thinks I'll try to steal the silverware, not that it's even made of real silver. When we finish the dishes Gretchen puts a piece of apple pie on a small plate and gives it to me. It's the first act of kindness she's shown me all week so I sit at the table and finish every crumb, even though I'm stuffed from dinner. She wipes off the counters and sweeps the floor and I clean my dirty plate and fork when I finish.

"Do you need anything else?" I ask.

Gretchen looks up from the small pile of dust and crumbs, "No you're excused."

I nod, "Ok. Goodnight Gretchen."

"Goodnight Adie," she says and goes back to sweeping.

I go up to my room and change into my pajama's. I take one of the novels I found from Gretchen's bookshelf and open to the dog-eared page. The pages smell damp and they are browned with age along the edges, but there is nothing else to do before I go to bed so I force myself through the horribly written romance until I eventually fall asleep.

I wake up to a storm. Henry hadn't been kidding when he said it was going to rain. I jerk awake at the crash of lighting and the book falls from my bed onto the floor. My bedside lamp is still on and I rub my eyes. Outside, the rain batters against the house and thunder rumbles in the distance. I turn off my lamp and go to my window. It's one hell of a storm. Except for the occasional lighting I can't see a thing through the heavy rain. The dark silhouette of the backyard is illuminated for a flash of a half second as another lightning bolt cracks in the distance followed immediately by thunder. I lean closer to the glass and wait for when another bolt of lightning flashes across the sky. When the lighting flashes again, my eyes are fixed on the spot where Henry normally parks his truck.

The spot is empty.

I turn and look at my alarm clock on the bedside table, it's just past midnight. Henry should have been home by now. Maybe he parked his truck at the barn? If he brought the sheep down from the upper pasture then he would have had to walk all the way back down the road to pick up his truck. I slip out of my bedroom door, carefully placing my feet and sliding my weight across the floors so they don't squeak. I'm not too worried, Henry is the lighter sleeper and they probably wouldn't hear me over the storm anyway. I slip down the banister and go to the kitchen. I know something is wrong immediately.

The dogs aren't in their beds. This means Henry hasn't made it home.

I quickly run back up to my room. I pull on my jeans and t-shirt and grab a coat from my closet without turning on a light. I don't wake Gretchen, maybe I should but I feel that she would just be a hindrance rather than a help. Besides, if Henry is just down at the barn then I don't want to wake and worry her for no reason. I slip down the stairs, not caring if the floor creaks.

I feel around in the dark kitchen for my barn boots. When I find them I stuff my feet into them and pull my hood over my head and push open the back door. The rain batters my hood as I close the door behind me and I take off at a run.

The barn is just a short way down the road. I cut through the backyard and across the side field to reach it faster. I jump over the short wooden fence behind the barn. My hand slips on the wet wood and I almost fall into the mud but I catch myself just in time. My heart is pounding through the rain and lightning cracks close by. I instinctively duck my head and pray I don't get struck.

I go to the side door of the barn and push it open. Inside the tin roof sounds as though it's being riddled with bullets but it's dry and warm. The smell of hay, oats, and manure waft to my nose and I find a small comfort in the smell. The barn is dark and quiet except for the occasional bleating of the sheep. I flick on the lights. From what I can tell by the numbers both of the flocks are here. Which means Henry was successful in bringing them back. So where is he?

I frown and turn the lights back off and go back out into the rain. I circle around the part of the barn that faces the road, being more careful when I climb fence this time. But through the rain and lighting I see that Henry's truck isn't park here either. I stand on the edge of the road. I look to my right, I go back home to wake Gretchen. She could call the neighbors or even the police and they could deal with it. I look to my left down the dark road, or I could go to the entrance of the upper field where Henry normal parks and see what's going on. Maybe his truck broke down. Maybe he had to help another neighbor with his flock. There are numerous reasons why Henry hasn't made it home and most of them aren't reasons for me to worry. Even though I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach I talk myself down and turn to go home.

The wind picks up out of nowhere. It throws the hood of my coat off my head and slaps the rain into my face. The rain hits my skin in cold stinging kisses and I grab for my hood and struggle to pull it back over my head.

I shiver and stop trying, my hand slowly fall down to my sides. The rain, with each touch, is singing to me...speaking to me. I hear it in my head like a hundred different voices bundled into one message. The drops drip off my chin and down my back in a steady stream. I lift my face to the sky and open my mouth.

I let the water wash over my tongue. I breathe it in and let it slip down my throat. I've never experienced rain like this. I have never felt so alive. Then it's there and I recognize the heightened awareness I felt in the ocean earlier. It comes bubbling up from deep inside, it starts in my stomach and flows out into my fingers. I shiver with adrenaline and I feel a charge at the base of my neck. Lightning flashes and the world turns silver and blue. The rain is light and in dances and illuminates the world around me. I see what the rain see's. I feel what it feels. Sheer unparalleled freedom runs through my mind and speaks my soul. Every time a rain drop hits the earth for just a flash of a millisecond it connects to my mind. I see every raindrop. I am everything, everywhere. I am Adie but I am more.

"Help," Henry's voice fills my ears.

My head snaps down and look around with wide eyes surprised at the closeness of his voice. I don't see him, I turn in a full circle and look through the rain. Where is he? I can't see anything in the dark. The water trails down my arms and pours off my fingertips. I lick my lips. Out of some deep instinct I lick my lips and take off my jacket. It takes only moments for the water to soak completely through my clothes. The rain is cold but I stretch out my arms and let it consume me.

Henry, where are you?

"Help. Someone help."

I close my eyes to the rain. I reach out with my thoughts. I grab onto that feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'm pulled out of my body. I'm in the rain. I am the rain. I dance and run with it along gutters and down ditches.

"Please...someone help me..."

Henry's voice fills my ears and head. I grit my teeth. "Help me!" I yell out frustrated. My eyes are filled with vision of the rain as it hits some part of the river. I flow with it until it touches a man wearing a plaid cap. My eyes shoot open and my legs are already sprinting down the road.

I've gone left.

The rain continues to sing and call out to me. Flashes of images erupt in my vision like a shutter opening and closing on a camera; a shingled roof, a blade of grass, a rabbit running for cover. Whatever the rain hits I see in a brief flash. It's dizzying. I try to block it out, to focus on the road before my feet but it won't listen, won't do as I ask. I need to find Henry. Please let me find him.

Lightning cracks overhead. I instinctively duck my head again but keep running. The world swims before my eyes. Water slips into my mouth and I feel the connection to it but I can do nothing to control it. Please, Henry, where is Henry?

"Anyone...please help..." Another flash of Henry dances across my vision. The water is all around him, slowly consuming him, but this time I also see his truck in the vision. Henry has to pass over the river to get to the upper pasture and all at once I know where he is. I urge my legs to go faster. The water on my skin acts as a catalyst. It feeds me energy and strength. I feel like I am soaring. I could run forever.

I reach the turn off that leads up the pasture. The gravel from the drive spills onto to paved toad. The gate is open. The mud and gravel crunch under my feet as I approach. The water is pouring down the road in small streams and into the road where it travels away in the ditch that is already overflowing. The rain has stopped showing me images, but I still feel the pull of it. I fight to resist it and remain focused. Trees grow and follow the river and I know when I reach them that I am close. Then I come to the old bridge that Henry built when his kids were still growing up here. Only there isn't a bridge. The river is completely flooded and on the opposite bank I see Henry's truck. Its front half is in the river and nose is completely submerged. The back wheels are miraculously still on the bank, but the water is rising fast. I don't have to listen to the pull of the water to know that Henry will be swept away if I don't act quickly.

But I'm on the opposite side with no way across.

"Henry!" I shout over the storm and the roar of the river. "Henry!" I cup my hands around my mouth, but there's no response.

The river gurgles and churns at my feet. I narrow my eyes against the rain. Henry's headlights are still on, I can barely see them through the muddy water. I can just make out a dark silhouette in the front seat. "Damn it Henry," I cuss and look around frantically. What can I do? The river has already risen since I've arrived. It reaches out and grabs for the tips of my rubber boots and beckons me to come to it. I step back in fear. The river has a different voice than the rain, not as carefree but more wild and strong.

I take off my rubber boots and throw them onto the road behind me. The gravel bites into my bare feet and I take a deep breath. I take a step into the river and I shudder as the power makes my heart race and my breath quicken. It's intoxicating. My vision swims and I fight to keep my mind focused. Mud squeezes between my toes and the water pulls me forward and before I realize what I'm doing I'm almost knee deep. I stop. The river is strong. I feel it. But it's not just the river. The rain is feeding its strength. They are the same thing yet oddly different. The rain shows me the world around me, shows me freedom. The river shows me strength in being tied to the earth, slowly pushing, plowing, and chipping away at stone and root.

I step in further, keeping my eyes on Henry's truck. My fingers skim over the water. The current wraps around my waist and tugs at my body. I feel as though I'm on the verge of beings swept away. "Help me," I say out loud. "Help me save him." The water churns around me creating a whirlpool around my body. It threatens to pull me under but I push pas the fear. "Help me," I shout firmly and then dive forward.

I'm consumed by the water and the noise roars in my ears and pummels my body. I kick and stroke as hard as I can, trying to keep my eyes open through the grit of whatever has flown into the river. I fear I am being swept away, that the river has ignored my plea and taken me. Then I see light and I grab onto the grill of Henry's truck and pull my head above the violent water. The headlights illuminate my body under the murky water. I see Henry clearly now, passed out in the driver seat.

"Henry!" I shout over the river and rain. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake up. I see a streak of red running down the side of his face. The source is covered by his plaid hat so I can only pray it's not serious. Despite everything that is happening I can't deny that I am impressed that the cap has managed to stay on his head. I bring my feet up against Henry's truck and manage to pull myself around to the driver's side. The force of the current pushes me against the driver's door, the water piles around me and flows through the broken window. Luckily the passenger window has broken as well. Otherwise Henry would have been underwater in seconds. I know there's no way I'm going to be able to get the door open again the push of the river. I'd need a team of horses to fight the current. So I knock out the rest of the glass and crawl through the window. The current dies some when I get inside. It swirls around the cab before escaping out through the other window. I crawl over Henry and into the open space next to him. My hand clutches the steering wheel and my other hand taps Henry's cheek.

"Henry, wake up." My fingers come away red with his blood.

Henry moans and his eyes flutter open. "Adie?" he asks. His eyes don't focus on me.

"Can you move?" I ask. But he's already passed out again. "Shit!" I yell loudly. The water is up past his chest and the truck groans loudly around us. My heart quickens and I wait for it to be take by the river, but it doesn't. I've got to get him out of here immediately. I move to open the passenger door but it doesn't budge. I lift the handle with one hand and push against it with my shoulder. It's stuck, the water has jammed the mechanism or maybe something got bent in the crash. I know we are running out of time because the river is still speaking to me. I feel it rising, pushing out from the bonds of the bank that hold it.

I kick the door but it's no use, the water is up past my chest now. I take a deep breath to try to steady my heart. I put my hand flat against the door and close my eyes. I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish so I act on instinct and do what feels right. I listen to the river. I feel the water pulsing underneath me. I feel it slipping through the cracks of the truck and flooding the engine, it makes its way wherever it can. I focus on the handle and the lever where the door catches. I feel the water flowing and tightening around the latch. Focusing on that spot I flow with the water and urge it to listen. Open the door. The water expands and the lever gives. The door is thrown open, shoved violently by the force of the current. The entire truck shudders and groans loudly.

I grab Henry by the front of his jacket and pull him out of the cab. I keep an arm around his waist and grab the front part of his jacket with my hand. My other hand grips the passenger door and my feet kick as I try to pull us to shore. The front of the truck shifts and the lights have flickered off. My hand slides against the bed of the truck. I can see the bank. We are so close. The truck moans again I feel shift and bump my leg and I know we aren't going to make it. The truck is going to give before we can get clear of it. We'll be trapped with it and taken by the river.

"Come on!" I yell and the river roars and rises around me like a wave. My hand loses its grip on the bed and we are thrown to the bank. The truck disappears under its murky depths and Henry and I hit land as though we were pushed by a linebacker. I cough out a lungful of water then I collapse into the mud next to Henry.