After I Foresee the Flood

My name is Anna Lincoln. I grew up in the slums on the city's edge, where narrow alleys and peeling walls are the most familiar sights in my memory. Mr. Clark and Madam Lee are my foster parents. They make a living collecting scrap and doing odd jobs, but they always save the best for me. Last summer, I received my acceptance letter to a top provincial university's meteorology program. Mr. Clark sat by the door, smoking half a pack of cigarettes, while Madam Lee secretly wiped away tears several times, saying she finally had something to be proud of. After starting school, I spent most of my time in the lab and library, and my grades in my major were always the highest in my year. This semester, the weather started feeling wrong: the spring, which should have been rainy, was unusually dry, and once summer began, heavy rains lasted for over two weeks, pushing river levels far above the warning line. The climate models in my textbooks and the satellite cloud map keep warning me that a devastating flood, threatening to engulf the entire city, could strike within a month. I wanted to stock up on supplies, but Mr. Clark and Madam Lee's savings barely cover their own living expenses—I simply don't have any extra money. Just when I was so worried I couldn't sleep, a black Mercedes pulled up at the entrance of the slum alley, shattering my sense of helplessness. The two men in suits who stepped out were the Luke family's butler and lawyer. They handed me a paternity test report, claiming I am the Luke family's long-lost biological daughter, missing for eighteen years. I stared blankly at the genetic match report, unable to grasp what was happening until I was brought to the Luke Family Villa. The Luke Family Villa was enormous, lavishly decorated with glittering gold and crystal chandeliers that hurt my eyes. Yet walking through it, I felt even more like a stranger than I ever did in the slum's narrow alleys. My biological father, Yale Luke, wearing an expensive suit, handed me a glass of red wine. His voice was calm as he promised to make up for all the years I had endured. My biological mother, Wendy Scott, held my hand and scanned me from head to toe. There was guilt in her eyes, but what stood out more was a cold distance. My younger sister, Yolanda Luke, just a year younger than me, wore a designer dress and looked at me like I was an intruder, full of disdain. As Big Sale Day approached, I saw Yolanda in the living room acting spoiled with Wendy Scott, saying she wanted to stockpile a bunch of skincare products and handbags. Suddenly, an idea struck me. I pretended to be envious and moved closer, whispering, "My sister buys so many things every Big Sale Day. I want to stock up on daily necessities too, but I don't have much money." Wendy was momentarily stunned, probably feeling sorry for me, and immediately told the butler to bring over a black bank card. "This is an unlimited black card. Buy whatever you want." As she spoke, her eyes stayed fixed on my faded jeans. The day after I got the black card, I took a taxi to the city's biggest S Market, pushing three of the largest shopping carts. First, I loaded twenty bags of fifty-pound rice, ten bags of flour, and five buckets of cooking oil into the carts—these are staple foods that we need to stockpile. Then I headed to the snack aisle, grabbing thirty bags of compressed biscuits, twenty boxes of chocolate, and a dozen bags of beef jerky—easy to carry and packed with energy. Passing the spice aisle, I picked up twenty bags of salt, ten bags of sugar, five bottles of soy sauce, and a few bottles of spices. Without seasoning during doomsday, food is just impossible to swallow. At the checkout, Yolanda Luke suddenly showed up with her friends. When she saw my shopping cart, she covered her mouth and burst out laughing. "Sis, are you planning to open a little store? Buying this much rice, flour, and oil—aren't you worried it'll go bad?" Her friends laughed too, their eyes full of mockery. The nearby sales assistants and customers all stared at me. Some whispered, calling me a nouveau riche who didn't know the world. I ignored them, paid, and had the supermarket arrange for the delivery truck to send everything to the temporary warehouse I rented—I didn't want the Luke family finding out my true plan too soon. Back at the Luke Family Villa, Wendy Scott saw I was only carrying a small bag and assumed I hadn't bought much. But Yolanda Luke deliberately brought up the supermarket at the dinner table, saying I'd bought a bunch of 'useless junk,' which made Yale Luke frown too. I didn't explain—just ate quietly, knowing deep down that when the flood came, they'd see how important that 'junk' really was. That night, lying in the bedroom the Luke family had arranged for me, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, my mind racing with lists of supplies to stockpile and concerns for Mr. Clark and Madam Lee's safety. Over the next few days, I visited different supermarkets and wholesale markets every day, stocking up until the rented warehouse was packed to the brim. At the same time, I stayed vigilant; every time I stepped outside, I watched the low-lying spots along the road, tracking how the water was gathering. Yesterday, passing by the market, I noticed several centimeters of water already flooding the street—even after the sun came out that afternoon, the water remained stubbornly pooled. I crouched by the roadside, poking the ground with a stick. The soil was so wet that I could squeeze water out of it—this was a bad sign. Back at the Luke Family Villa, I immediately opened my laptop and pulled up the city's topographic map to study it closely. The Luke Family Villa was in the eastern part of the city, a low-lying area barely over ten meters above sea level. If the flood came, this place would definitely be underwater. Panic gripped me. I had to find higher ground to use as a shelter. I remembered the mountain behind the Luke Family Villa. The butler had mentioned before that there were a few unused houses up there. Maybe one of those could serve as a shelter.