You're gathered on the two neighboring trailer rooves. Small sharks rummage through the area, tearing at the corpses of the sharks and crawdads a-floating in the soupy mess. The trailers shift in the turbid water -- you don't know how long they'll stay in their spot, or if they'll collapse, or roll.
You got to get out of here, you got to make a break for safety. The water isn't lowering fast enough, and you don't know how long you have.
Collectively, you spot Jim Bellman's pride and joy, a 15' bass fishing boat. It's floating, but still tied to his trailer. It's may fifty yards away, and you can kinda see it bobbing behind a pair of big aspen where his trailer used to be. It's a long way away, and all you got is Cletus' now uninflated dingy, and Vern's air mattress.