The Storm

I attempted to lift myself with my wet noodle legs (literally wet), and finally accomplished this with much effort, with my head down, and i turned slowly towards the door.

“CALL 'EM! NOW!”

The voice thundered like an apocalyptic trumpet. I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. I tried again: “HENRY! COME HERE!” “LOUDER!” The voice commanded, and with all my might I hollered out as loud as I could, “HENRY, COME HERE WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND LEAVE THE GUN IN THE BOAT, OR THIS GUY'S GONNA KILL ME!” Henry yelled back , "ARE YOU JOKIN' BOY?" I answered, "NO, THIS IS REAL! THERE IS AGUY HERE WITH AGUN! Even at this distance I could see Henry’s face filled with rage and anger, mixed with disgust, as he almost threw the shotgun down in the boat and raised his hands and hollered back, “I TOLD YOU, BOY, THAT YOU'D GET US KILLED. NOW LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” And he chided me for my stupidity. I deserved it. And my fear then settled again on my captor. Henry slugged through the water and made his way to the door. I didn’t wa nt to look him in the eye, and I kept my head down. Henry just shook his head in disgust and repeated, "I told you boy!" It was the lowest moment of my life, thinking that I would cause another man’s death, and mine, for a stupid story. Henry was right all along. I felt small, stupid, and infantile. Henry, not seeing the person behind me in the dark, just peered into the empty dark room behind me and said, “WHAT’S GOING ON HERE, BOY? THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?” Henry spoke in a rage. The voice responded, “SHUT

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