The Storm

Chapter Twelve

Heading Home

T he early morning sun burst through, casting light into the cluttered room. Dust particles swam in the open air, and the old rooster did his thing waking me early. And I was ready to roll out and head home. The 3:00 PM flight would be non-stop to Newark International Airport, and I was ready to unload my story on my boss. I could already hear Henry stirring in the kitchen, and once again the aroma of his world-famous coffee filled the air. I came through the door and Henry greeted me, “Wanna cup, Zach?” “No thank you, Henry, I’ve gotta roll and radio to my Baton Rouge contact that I’m headed back with his radio and Jeep. Thanks for everything, Henry. I couldn’t have done it without you, ” I said. “I know!” Henry chuckled. “But you did good, Kid, for a rookie!” We both laughed. I was loading my gear into the Jeep just as Henry stepped off the porch and said to me, “One last thing, Son. Don’t mention anything about me, my name, or family h istory. Like most folks out here, my privacy is very important, and I'd like to remain anonymous, and I sure don’t need any more snoopy reporters out here. It makes us all nervous around these parts. Go back, tell your flood story and what happened here, an d everything else is private, okay?” “Got it, Henry, I promise.” I truly meant it, as I certainly did not want to betray our new friendship.

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