The Storm

lives are in your hands. Don’t murder us. Also, remember this: You breathe a word of this, and if I see and article in a rag sheet or newspaper or a broadcast of any kind before our demise, I will find you and slit your throat. I’m good at that. Henry will be holdin' the door for me when I do it. Quiet-in, quiet-out, never there, as one old soldier said." I managed a “Yes Sir” and got quiet. Henry spoke up: “Well Zach, grab your gear and let’s head out. The sun's a settin' and dinner needs fixin' by the time we get back. Gunny, take care and see ya soon when the weather gets better. We’’ll catch up on the years and fill in the blanks while we’re fishin' or somethin'. Zach, you ready?” “Good to go, Sir”, I replied. “Well, old Zach here is gettin' the lingo down, Captain,” Gunny replied. “Yeah, as long as he doesn’t get a big head” Henry quipped. "I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Gunny. Let’s get out of here, Zach”. Loading up the old Jon Boat, Henry started the engine and headed south to home. The trip went by quickly, as I was lost in the details of our meeting, and my thoughts were on how I could possibly present this trip to Mr. Fessmyer. "How could I protect Henry and Gunny and yet keep my job. What would I tell Delores?" Henry and I tied up the boat and headed to the house. “Let’s get some grub. How does a hot bowl of Louisiana seafood gumbo sound?” “Great!” I answered. “Zach?” Henry questioned. “How did you get authorization to get up here to Ruby. The military and FEMA shut down all access north. Sounds like you made it up here in a breeze. What gives?” “Well,” I responded, “I got authorization from a Major Peterson in New Orleans through

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