Page 38 of South of Nowhere

Then he found what he was looking for.

Sonja’s dry cleaning, two blouses and her green dress with a sexy slit up the side.

It was not the garments he had any interest in, though, but the plastic wrap.

This is not a toy…

What would the sensation be like after he wrapped it around his head?

Hell, probably not a lot different than right now, he decided. He was half-suffocated anyway.

He took another sip of beer and said to his family, “I love you. Goodbye.”

Words, of course, that they could not hear.

16.

Time Elapsed from Initial Collapse: 3 Hours

Colter Shaw was returning to Hinowah with a new mission.

He sped toward the south end of Route 13, which was bustling with a sandbag-filling party.

A woman noncommissioned officer from the army engineers and two corporals were supervising a workforce of about eight townspeople. He’d never heard of putting sandbags on top of a fragile levee but that was hardly his area of expertise, and the fact was, it seemed to be having some effect.

Most of the eyes turned to him as he skidded off the asphalt and down the hill on the south side of the valley, using the road to the village proper. He could have negotiated the hill by himself, off-road, but the only way across the torrent-filled spillway was the bridge.

Once over he picked his way through the soupy mess that the south side of town—Misfortune Row—was becoming, thanks to the overflowing spillway. It had been hours since the levee’s collapse, and the erosion at the top had turned the spigot up higher. The waterfall was far stronger—and louder—than when he’d left town. He continued north until he came to the hill on which the command post was situated.

Here, he didn’t bother with the switchback and gunned the engine to plow straight up the grass and over the crest. He got more speed than planned and needed to brake fast, so he skidded to a sideways hockey stop, just shy of the main tent.

Debi Starr, the young officer, watched and nodded with approval. She looked as if she spent her days in knitting clubs and the kitchen, not in the garage tinkering with a Harley, but Colter had learned long ago not to make baseless assumptions.

In addition to Starr, Mayor/Chief Han Tolifson was present. He sat at a table, looking exhausted as he typed, two fingers at a time, on his laptop keyboard.

He said a perfunctory, “No leads to the family, I assume.”

“No.”

Starr’s face tightened at this.

Tolifson said, “Isn’t looking good.”

This was true and there was no reason to dispute, or elaborate on, the comment.

But he did have something to say.

It was about his new mission.

“My drone’s been up and down the river all the way to Fort Pleasant. Tomas Martinez and I have covered it too. Nothing.”

The rain persisted but was less insistent and the wind less fierce. The drumming on the canvas ceiling was softer.

Tolifson asked, “Where’s the drone now?”

“In the drink. Almost made it back, but the batteries went.”

“I’m sorry. Must’ve been expensive.”

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