The Directives (43 page)

He maneuvered to the garage roof, raising the steel salvation container to the gutter. They got the idea immediately, some sliding down the slick shingles and jumping in, then turning to help their less nimble friends aboard.

Now what to do with them?

Backing into the street-river, he proceeded along his original route, sure the water had risen another foot during the rescue effort, positive the wind had grown even stronger.

Twice more he spied stranded people, both families pushed onto their roofs by the rising waters and hanging on for dear life in the wind. The dumpster became crowded.

A few blocks later, he was crossing another street when a dim, dark, line appeared on the distant horizon. His heart stopped, thinking a tidal wave was approaching through the blowing rain and whipped up sea foam. They were all going to die, crushed under a tsunami that was at least 10 feet high.

Then the driver realized the wave wasn’t coming any closer. The air cleared, a small gap between the bands of rain and w
ind, and he saw it was the Texas Star, not a wave of destruction.

It took a bit for his heart to slow. Shaking his head over the incident, he was more than a little embarrassed that his nerves were now causing hallucinations. Glancing again at what he thought was c
ertain death, he noted the locomotive was moving.

Wait
a minute
, he thought
. If the train is moving, that means the tracks are high and dry. I can set my passengers down there, and they’ll be safe
. Executing a quick left turn, he began chasing the engine.

It didn’t take long to catch up, as the iron horse had come to a halt. Approaching closer, he realized several of the boxcars were loading people aboard. “Next stop, Grand Flooded Station,” he said to the unhearing dum
pster riders. “At least the boxcars will keep the wind and rain off your head.”

“Watch this,” Slim yelled at Terri. “Watch the water level.”

Peeking out the barely open warehouse door, she did as instructed, focusing on what appeared to be a six-inch high wave rolling down the street outside. It looked perfect for a Barbie doll-sized surfer.

The disturbance rolled
past the entrance to the warehouse, heading west to some unknown destination. At Slim’s behest, she’d identified a visual marker, a piece of reflective tape on a newspaper box, just above the waterline. After the wave had passed, the tape was gone, now submerged in the rising flood.

“It’s rising that fast?” Terri shouted back.

“That was a little one. Three minutes ago, one of those waves tumbled past that was at least two feet high,” Slim explained at the top of his lungs. “We have to get out of here. Look,” he said, pointing a flashlight at the warehouse floor just 15 feet away. There was water running in from some unknown source, already an inch deep across the smooth concrete floor.

Terri returned her gaze to
the outside, just in time to witness a trailer full of lawnmowers and yard equipment swirl past. The current was stronger than it looked.

They returned to the RV, the interior still providing enough sound barrier to have a reasonable conversation. “We need to go, and go now,” Slim insisted. “Another five minutes, and I don’t know if the Humvee will make it through.”

“What about the men?” Terri asked, concern all over her face.

“There are nine people total in our party. The Humvee holds five, six tops. The guys we leave he
re can shelter on top of the RV or lash themselves to a pole if it gets bad.

Terri didn’t like it. The men that worked for Slim risked their lives for her safety. “We don’t leave anyone behind,” she argued. “That’s not our way.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, this isn’t the Army or Marine Corps. I have sworn an oath to protect you and your son, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep that promise. Please get your things, Miss Terri.”

Crossing her arms in defiance, Terri said, “I won’t. We aren’t going to leave anyone behind. There has to be another way.”

“Ma’am, please don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out to that Humvee,” Slim responded, his voice as resolute as hers.

“You wouldn’t dare!” She protested, backing one step away. “Bishop would kill you in a heartbeat.”

Slim shook his head, “No, ma’am, he wouldn’t. I know the type of man your husband is, and he would buy me a drink and offer me a cigar. He would be thankful to any man who saved his wife and son, regardless of any loss of dignity required for the rescue.”

Terri reached for his pistol, but Betty’s voice stopped her. “Terri! Stop! What are you doing? Are you really going to shoot him?”

The Alliance ambassador stopped, her hand shaking as she removed it from the weapon’s grip. “Oh, Slim,” she whispered, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

The tears clouding her eyes didn’t match the anger in Terri’s voice. “But there has to be a better way… something other than lashing people to… that’s it!”

“Ma’am? What’s it?”

“Why can’t we lash them to the Humvee? What would be the difference? They could last until we reached someplace safer… until we find higher ground.”

Slim’s first reaction was to shake his head no, but then he thought about it for a moment. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Hopefully, we won’t have to travel far.”

He turned to bounce the idea off his team, pausing for a moment to add, “Please get ready
, ma’am. We need to leave right away. I’ll be back to help both of you and the child get loaded in just a minute.”

And then he was gone.

They pulled out of the warehouse, all nine members of the Alliance aboard. With Slim driving, Butter in the front seat, Betty, Terri and another man across the back seat. Hunter’s car seat rested on Terri’s lap.

Another rider squeezed himself into the small cargo area behind the rear seat, leaving two volunteers to ride on the back bumper. Each man had lashed himself to the vehicle in his own way, knowing not only the risk, but also the punishment he could expect to endure from the cold water, biting rain, and blistering wind.

The water had risen another foot by the time
they’d reached a decision. Twice Slim had to pause before pulling into the deepest part of the street, once due to what appeared to be a lifeguard stand rushing past, the other to avoid hitting a dead body bobbing down the street-river.

Terri
inhaled deeply as the water churned over the hood. When the cold liquid started running in from under and around the door, she almost screamed.

“It’s designed to take on water,” the man beside her stated, trying to keep everyone calm. “The water will weigh it down so it doesn’t float away.”

Slim drove slowly, keeping his eye out for debris and doing his best to avoid any submerged objects.

When the cold water reached Betty’s butt, she yelped as if she’d been bitten, trying to rise above the chilling sensation. Finally giving up, she sat back down, a look of disgust and fear spreading across her face.

Terri’s arms were getting tired, trying to hold Hunter high and dry. The man next to her… Garcia was his name… offered to hold the car seat while she rested her limbs.

He was going to lash himself to a tree so I could live
, Terri thought.
Where does Nick find these guys?

Despite the windshield wipers running full blast, Slim still had trouble seeing. The combination of the outside rain and too many humans inside resulted in fogged windows and
low visibility. The anxious occupants shivered from the water now up to their waists, the hot air from the defrosters doing little to offset the chill as the cold seawater filled the cab.

“I have to pee,” Betty said, her terrified voice making it through the storm’s din.

Before Terri could respond, the front of the Humvee dipped down, the vehicle tilting badly toward the front. They jerked to a halt. Terri couldn’t see what, or why… it was as if they’d hit a wall.

Over the roaring wind and slashing rain, she heard Slim yell, “Fuck!”

She could see the concerned look on Butter’s face in the passenger seat, and then the water was above her window. She grabbed Hunter’s seat.

In it came,
raw, frigid seawater rising above her stomach, then her breasts and finally her throat. She somehow managed to open her seatbelt, push down with her feet, and raise her head to the roof to gasp for air. Every muscle in her body strained to hold Hunter’s seat against the roof, a bare few inches of cool, precious air left in the gap. She couldn’t tell if her son’s head was above the water or not.

But soon it didn’t matter.

With her lips pinned to the metal roof, pulling in the last thin layer of air, she felt the water roll into her mouth. It was a natural reaction to seal her only source of breath.

She held that last lungful, still holding Hunter as high as she could, moving him over her head to where something in her brain reasoned an air pocket might be. It was eerily quiet under the water, the first time in hours she hadn’t heard the storm.

Her chest began hurting, every cell in her being screaming for oxygen, her lungs on fire. It was a dark, quiet place; the only sound she recognized was the ever-faster beating of her own heart.

I’m so sorry, Bishop
, she thought.
I love you. Hunter and I will see you in heaven.

A calm came over her, the empty, harsh feeling in her lungs seeming to dissipate. She felt her jaw beginning to unlock, knew that her mouth would open by involuntary reaction as soon as her brain ceased to function. She felt a warm, floating sensation. It was a welcome replacement over the cold, bone chilling numbing of the water.

Terri saw what she thought were the wings of an angel spreading to lift her away. There was a glow and the sound of rumbling drums. She felt a weightlessness as she was lifted upward toward the skies.

The celestial being
was massive, much larger than she’d ever imagined, the illumination of brilliant white light surrounding her in a sensation of warmth and safety. She was in God’s hands.

He’d seen the Humvee rolling through the water, curious where the driver thought he was going, interested in how deep the military vehicle could dive.

The two men strapped to the back bumper made the spectacle even more appealing.

He’d shouted from #1’s cab, a worthless use of lungs and energy given the constant, thunderous volume of the storm. Still, he tried, screaming to warn the dri
ver that he was about to run into a ditch. The hood went under, then the cab. He watched as the two guys tied to the back tried to free themselves, frustrated when their heads disappeared under the surface.