The Storm

the powers-that-be are concerned, we don’t exist, unless they want somethin' from us, like our stills, or arrestin' us for killin' what we eat out of season, or takin' gators and cypress wood without a license. My two best friends were lost and nowhere to be found. It grieves my heart to think that they're buried inland under a ton o' mud. At least their buried, I hope, and not hangin' in some brush pile, like we found some folks from Ruby. I’m gonna help you 'cause you're the only one who cared enough to come out here, even if it is for a story. You made the trip, Son, so I’ll tell you exactly what’s goin' on." I interrupted Henry: “I’m sorry about your losses here, Sir, and I want to report what I hear and see. Can I quote you?” “If you don’t use my name, quote all you want. I’ve been up and down this flooded river lookin' for anything and anyone, but right now keep me out of the news. No one wants any attention up here unless someone wants to truly help us here in Ruby. They ignored us for years, even when we tried to keep our schools open, and we had to bus our children out. Most are old folks here anyways, and the kids have long ago moved away. It’s peaceful enough here, but this storm took the wind out of our sails. We lost some long-time friends, Son, and folks are still grievin'.” “Can you take me inland?” I asked. Henry responded, “Further north, you say? That'll be tough, Son. No roads. You'd have to go by boat, but I’m afraid it won’t be very pleasant. The flood water is still comin' in and parts of the river channels are flowin' fast and deep. Can you swim? Never mind. Even a good swimmer couldn’t last long against this flood current. It’s risky,

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