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He pulled out a pistol, then switched it to his left hand and put a bullet between Whit’s eyes. Before the women could react to what had happened, he’d shot both of them dead. He watched their bodies roll off the roof into the floodwaters, and waited until they sank before moving away from the site.
* * *
When Nola saw Whit fall, she thought for a few seconds she must be hallucinating. But then she heard the same pop she’d heard before, when Whit dropped and fell into the water, and now she was seeing the women falling one by one into the flood, as well. The horror was real.
When the officer revved the motor and made a half circle away from the house before moving back into the flow of the current, she realized he was going to pass right by her. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that it felt like thunder. Surely he would hear it. Surely he would see her, and if he did, she didn’t have a chance. She would die after all, just not like she’d expected.
In a last-ditch moment of desperation, she climbed higher into the tree, as far up into the thickness of the foliage as she could get, and then clung to the backside of the trunk, praying he would pass her by.
She could hear the sound of the outboard as he came closer and closer. She was almost afraid to look for fear any movement would alert him she was there, yet at the same time, she had to see him. But when he finally moved past her, from this height, the cap he was wearing concealed most of his face. All she could see was a white, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a big mustache. As the boat moved past the tree and then downriver, she went limp with relief.
“Thank you, God,” she muttered, and tried not to think of her neighbors’ bodies now part of the morass that was the flood.
She clung to the tree through the late afternoon as her fever returned. She drank more water, trying to fend off the delirium, but it was no use. The longer she clung, the weaker she became. When she felt herself on the verge of passing out, she took the string out of her hoodie, tied one end around her wrist, put her arms around the tree and tied the free end to her other wrist. The last thing she remembered was feeling the tree trunk vibrating against her cheek from the water’s rush.
* * *
Shug Wilson had been a chopper pilot for the Louisiana National Guard most of his adult life. His first military mission had been flying choppers in Desert Storm, then, after 9/11, his military missions had been in Afghanistan. His last tour had been sixteen months in Iraq, and he had been home less than four months when the Mississippi flooded.
When the governor called out the National Guard, he was the first one at the armory, and he’d been flying rescue for days. They’d been sent down to this area yesterday and had been on the job since just before daylight this morning. This was their first trip into a new quadrant after a refueling stop.
The two soldiers with him were PFCs Wilson and Carver, who were on the lookout for live bodies as Shug flew over the flood zone. They’d been in the air less than thirty minutes when Carver suddenly pointed.
“Hey, Colonel, circle back over that stand of trees and take it down.”
Shug nodded as Carver’s voice came in loud and clear on the headset.
“Roger that,” he said as he made the loop and went low.
“There! Look there!” Carver said. “There’s someone in that tree.”
“I see him,” Shug said, and settled into hover mode as Wilson quickly hooked up his body harness. He gave Carver a thumbs-up, okaying him to activate the winch to lower Wilson down.
The backwash from the chopper blades was whipping the tree limbs with hurricane force, battering the victim to the point that he apparently lost hold.
“He’s going into the water!” Carver yelled.
Wilson heard the voice in his headset and gritted his teeth.
“Not if I can help it,” he muttered, and went feet first into the treetop, grabbing at the body just as it lurched off the limb.
Wilson’s reaction to the situation was immediate as he assessed the situation.
“Okay, boys. It’s a woman, and she’s tied herself to the tree. Damn smart, because she’s unconscious. Hang on while I cut her loose.”
“Ten-four,” Shug said.
* * *
Nola came to just in time to realize a strange man had a grip around her waist. She couldn’t see his face for the helmet he was wearing, but she saw the knife and began fighting for her life.
“Easy, lady, I’m trying to help you,” Carver said.
He wasted no time cutting her free and then pulled her up into his arms.
Nola was conscious just long enough to register the National Guard insignia on his jumpsuit, and then she passed out again.
“She’s out again. Take us up,” Wilson said.
