Flood Plains Mark Wheaton (inspirational books for students .TXT) đ
- Author: Mark Wheaton
Book online «Flood Plains Mark Wheaton (inspirational books for students .TXT) đ». Author Mark Wheaton
Why do I feel sorry for you? Because youâre the one who hasâhad?âto go home and tell our daughter what her daddy did. That shouldâve been me.
Heâd pause so sheâd know exactly where his head and heart had been. Then heâd bring it on home.
The guys in here say that if you plead âno contest,â first offenders get off with probation, as the jails are so crowded. Only, when I get out, Iâll be out of a job. Iâll have more time to train, sure, but thatâs where I need your help. I need you to help keep me on the straight and narrow. Now, but also when things start to get hectic. With the money, the travel, the fame, all that. Youâve seen how easily my head gets unscrewed. Everythingâs better when youâre next to me, and thatâs what I want. For now, for always. It all starts tomorrow in that courtroom.
He liked how it sounded. Self-deprecating, a little funny. He thought sheâd go for it hook, line, and sinker. He wasnât saying âmarriage,â but sheâd know thatâs what he meant. Thatâs what she wanted, right?
âSir? Could you try my fiancĂ©e again?â
The deputy raised an impatient finger.
âThings are starting to get rough out there. Youâre going to have to wait a minute.â
âą âą âą
By the time Big Time got home, the rain had become absurd. The drops were as big as hail-stones, and the wipers were useless. He could see nothing through his windshield but the water coursing down it like he was in a car wash. As water scoured the undercarriage of his truck, he slowed down even more. He could barely make out the dim red taillights of the Honda he knew was only a few feet in front of him. He also didnât want to get rear-ended if he decelerated too much.
Heâd already gotten a message from Mona saying she was going in early, as her office was offering time-and-a-half that night. That left the boys and Erna at the house. He figured thereâd be enough food in the fridge, but thatâs when he stopped himself. This was everybodyâs first hurricane since Katrina.
When he jumped off the 610 Loop to take the Eastex Freeway down to Fifth Ward, he got off three exits before Crosstimbers. To his surprise, the Popeyeâs Chicken on the corner was not only open when he got there, but empty.
âAm I glad to see you!â he announced to the manager as he walked in.
The manager, whoâd been mopping water that sluiced under the doors, grinned ruefully.
âItâs not safe out there on the roads. We took a vote, figuring we might as well stay on shift.â
âWell, my family certainly will appreciate it.â
Big Time ordered and bullshitted with the manager while his order was filled.
âWeâre going to lose power, no question,â the manager said, indicating around the restaurant. âAnother reason to stay on late if we might lose a couple of shifts next week. I just hope it doesnât get flooded.â
âYeah, hoping that about my house,â Big Time joked. âMy factory floods, theyâll figure it out. My home goes? Shit.â
âHeh, Iâm on the fourth floor of my building. Iâve got to worry about the roof!â
When his chicken was ready, the manager offered to wrap the box in a trash bag, which Big Time gratefully accepted. Nodding a thanks, he raced back out to his truck. He drove the rest of the way home on the frontage road.
When he turned onto Crosstimbers, he was amazed to see the Louisiana-hating gas station owner still had the lights on. He could even make out the guy inside watching the news.
Pulling onto his driveway a couple of minutes later, Big Time got a shock when he saw his mother, Erna, sitting on the porch. Though the porch had a good, strong ceiling and she was sitting a ways back in her metal rocker, Big Time knew the wind must be blowing a cold, steady spray of rain in her face.
He parked in the garage and hurried around the sidewalk to join his mom.
âHowâs it going?â
âGettinâ cold. I need my red coat.â
Big Time considered suggesting she simply come inside but then realized who he was dealing with.
âIâll get it. In the closet?â
âThatâs my camel coat. I need the red one. Itâs on my bed.â
Big Time came back with it and slipped it over her shoulders.
âYou want some chicken?â
âMaybe so.â
Big Time knew what this answer meant.
âSomething on your mind?â
âYour brother called to see how we were. Said he was looking forward to my âvisit.ââ
Oops. Big Time had known delaying this talk would eventually bite him the ass.
âWeâre seven in a house built for three,â Big Time began. âHeâs got twice as much roomâŠâ
âI ainât livinâ by the water anymore. Learned that lesson.â
âTheyâre eight miles inland. And thatâs Mississippi, not Louisiana. High ground. Also, most everything we saved from your house is already over there in his garage. You just have to go through it.â
As soon as he said that, Big Time realized that was the wrong tack. Her house had been completely destroyed when the levees broke. Anything they salvaged would only point towards all that now missing.
âI told you, I donât want none of it,â Erna retorted. âThrow it away. Give it to somebody who needs it or wants it because thatâs not me.â
âMama,â Big Time sighed.
But Erna had already ended the conversation by turning her back on her son to look out towards the driving rain.
Chapter 9
Johnson Space Center, twenty-five miles inland from Galveston, had been battered all evening by strong winds and heavy rain. All non-essential personnel were sent home, which meant a cancellation of training, tours, a pair of scheduled lectures, and maintenance work. Scientists and engineers, some accustomed to camping out in their offices for a couple of hours of sleep in between marathon laboratory sessions, were incredulous to find security officers directing them out of the buildings. Some had no idea a hurricane was approaching.
At nearby Ellington Field, the
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