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.Two more times itdescended to pluck people from the still-raging waters.The neighbors fromacross the street who d called the copson us more than once for domesticdisputes.A single mom who livednearby and her fourteen-year-old sonwho I suspected was responsible for thedisappearance of tools from our shed.Petty neighborhood squabbles wereforgotten as we helped each other getsettled and offered comfort as we could.Finally the pilot seemed to feel thateither there were no others needingrescue, or there wasn t enough room formore.The doors closed, and I felt usgain altitude.I wrapped an arm aroundmy dad, shut my eyes, and tried not tothink of this as the end of our world.* * *I opened my eyes when we toucheddown with little more than a lightjostling.Whoever the pilot was, he wasdamn good.The engines wound down,and the silence when they stoppedseemed unnatural after the din of before.When the doors opened, our rescuersefficiently off-loaded us and passed usinto the care of waiting emergencyworkers and Red Cross personnel.Ittook a few minutes for my surroundingsto sink in, and then I registered that wewere in a parking lot at Tucker PointHigh School.About twenty yards fromthe helicopter, several Red Crossvehicles clustered, one marked DisasterRelief.Tucker Point High was alwaysused as a shelter during hurricanes, so itmade sense for it to be used for this aswell.A vague and misplaced worrywound through me about how the moviepeople would do their filming with floodvictims sheltering here and getting intheir way, but then I decided that theschool was no doubt more than bigenough to accommodate everyone, and Isurely had more important things toworry about.But I didn t want to worryabout the more important things.Not yet.I kept the blanket wrapped aroundmy waist and an arm around my dad,demanded that someone check out hishead and snarled that I was fine.No oneseemed to take any offense, and I dimlyrealized that I probably had an eyes-wide-in-shock look about me.After asking a few pointed questions,I managed to learn that, earlier in themorning, engineers attempted to partiallyopen the spillway in order to carefullybleed-off the overflowing Kreeger Riverdown Cole Bayou and, eventually, outinto the swamp.That would have beenfine and dandy and would have caused afew extra feet of water at the most,except that minutes after the first bayopened, the entire aged structure gaveway.In one gigantic rush, pretty much allthe excess water in the Kreeger Riverdiverted down Cole Bayou.The ArmyCorps of Engineers was already at work,though the general consensus seemed tobe that, at this point, there wasn t muchto do except wait for the river to dropbelow flood stage.I hovered near my dad as a medicchecked his head, and I listened to arelief worker comment in hushed tonesabout how the flooding had wiped out asmall trailer park.I knew the place acollection of six or seven trailers withalmost exclusively elderly residents.Ifigured there had to be other casualtiesas well, but no one had any hardnumbers.The only possible bright sidewas that the worst of the flooding hadbeen on our side of the road since thebayou ran behind our property, whichmeant that, apart from the unfortunatelylocated trailer park, probably less than adozen houses had been affected.Moreover, at least half of those werefishing camps that weren t usuallyoccupied during the week. You don t need stitches, the medictold my dad, and I yanked my attentionback to him. You probably have a mildconcussion, though, he added. I ain t goin to no fucking hospital,Dad snarled before the medic couldeven get the suggestion out.The young man flicked his eyes up tome.I gave him a very slight shrug andshake of my head to let him know thatarguing would get him nowhere. All right, he said to my dad. Butbe sure to get as much rest as possible.And if you have any dizziness, headache,or blurred vision, let one of thevolunteers know as soon as possible.Dad grumbled something thatsounded like an  Okay, and with thatthe medic moved on to treat the tool-stealing teen, who looked like a scaredrabbit as he cradled his left arm to hischest.The sun broke through thinningclouds for the first time in a week asanother volunteer took us gently in handand guided us toward the gym entrance.Looked like it was going to be adamn beautiful day for the end of theworld.Chapter 18It didn t seem right that it could only beten a.m.Everything we owned was gone.Nothing left but the clothes on our backs,and in my case hardly that.My jackethad been shredded and my shirt had atree-branch sized hole in the back.Fortunately I still had my cargo pantswith its two precious bottles of brainsmoothie.Surely it should take longer than acouple of hours to wipe out a lifetime ofpossessions and memories, right?What the hell are we supposed to donow?I wanted to fall apart and allow themagnitude of our loss to sink in, wallowand roll around in the grief and angerand unfairness of it.But I didn t.I hadmy dad to think of.I had to call workand start figuring out what steps to take.Figure out a place to live until we couldrebuild.Or whatever the hell we weregoing to do.Maybe that s what maturity was allabout, I mused in a weird numb fog as Ipawed through hastily donated clothingfor something to wear instead of ablanket.Maybe being  mature wasn tjust holding down a job and starting afamily and buying a house and payingtaxes.Maybe it was about putting a holdon your own reactions and needs untilafter you took care of the people whotrusted you.Maturity sucked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]