The Storm

“What happened, Henry?” I yelled out. “We hit a stump! Didn’t see it. Submerged!” We were still moving v ery quickly downstream, and as we came around a corner created by a section of land that jutted out into the river, Henry frantically pointed to the right. “This ain’t over yet, Boy. Look!” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Obviously, Henry couldn’t either. Ther e to our right was a new, rushing river channel that had formed from the flood water. “That ain’t supposed to be here," Henry said, “maybe a levee broke or somethin', but we’re headed into it! Hang on, Son. This is gonna be rough!” I believed it and these new waters were full of trash and house debris. "God, please don’t let there be floating bodies," I silently prayed. The thought of whole families drowning and washing inland crossed my mind, and the idea of seeing them bobbing up and down in the fast-flowing current made me shudder. I prepared for it in the event that it might happen. I got a firm grasp on the boat to face the onslaught of this new flood-water event that just might do me in. Henry saw my concern and hollered out, “Don’t worry, Boy. I’ve seen worse. You’ll be okay. You already rode out one of the toughest things that can happen in a boat, other than the gas tank explod'n!” I wasn’t amused. “Hang on, Son!” That was definitely my plan and already my hands were going numb from my death-grip on the boat rim. The new flood channel grabbed us like an invisible hand and yanked us faster downstream. These waters were chock full of debris, and not like the old river channel that we just left. This water had the force of a dam break, and the current was like white-water rafting, but in muddy waves of goo. Henry

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