Get your crap, get out, she thought,
what can’t be replaced? Pieces of art. Family photos. She had already lost them once before to Hurricane Katrina. She wouldn’t lose them again. Not when she was in the beginning stages of growing a family of her own.
Minutes before, Gainesville Fire Rescue told her she needed to evacuate. In her backyard, a portal to hell had burst open.
From her front yard, Robasciotti heard huge chunks of dirt crack off and plummet down the sloughed sides of the sinkhole, like dead bodies crashing into the water.
She had known about sinkholes before ever moving to Florida. She knew they opened up on golf courses and parking lots. They gobbled up fields of green and consumed SUVs in all their wrath and fury.