From Pharaoh's Hand (19 page)

     “
Yeah boss.  I’m fine.”

          “
Look in that top right drawer of my desk and get the flashlight, would ya.”

             
              In a few seconds the flashlight was turned on and trained to the ceiling. 

             
“No damage in here.  What about out there?”

     “
Lost part of the roof, but I believe the building is sound.”

             
“Prisoners all accounted for?”

     “
Well, I think we liked to have lost old Poke to a heart attack, but other than that, yes.”

             
The telephone interrupted their conversation, and Shorty took the flashlight and headed for the phone.

             
“I’ll get the generator going, so we can get some power and get back up and running.  If we sustained damage, then a whole lot of other folks did too.  That’s probably the first of a passel of calls.” The sheriff led Poke back the cell, much to Poke’s dismay, where Pete, who had heard his frantic confession was waiting with a not so happy expression. 
Serves the old coot right,
thought the sheriff as he turned to go.

             
Shorty replaced the receiver, and it began to ring again almost immediately.  He let it ring as he shouted to the sheriff.

             
“There’s folks trapped in Cedaridge Apartments.  A group of neighbors are heading up there with chainsaws.  The elementary school sustained a lot of damage, and the high school is just a foundation now!”

     “
Do the best you can with the phones.  Hopefully the Rescue Squad didn’t get hit and is able to respond to calls of injury.  I’m going out to assess the damage.  Call Tommy and Danny and see if they got any damage.  If they can, get them to load their four wheelers up and be ready to go out into the county.  There may be more people trapped and in need of assistance.  If you need me radio me.  Keep me updated.”

          “
You got it.  Be careful out there Boss.”

Chapter 22

Breaking Free

             
Cold rain was pelting Beth’s bleeding forehead causing her to turn her head from side to side as if trying to avoid the irritation.  Thunder boomed above her in the darkness.  Startled, she jerked and tried to push herself up with her hands, only to slip and slide in the mud that surrounded the rocky area where she lay.  She was lying with her feet submerged in the shallow edge of the river, the water lapping at her waist.  She groaned as her body fought to gain purchase in the muddy ground. 
What’s happening?  Where am I?  Oh God, my baby.  Where’s my baby? 
The memory of giving birth in the grove of trees flashed before her, and in a desperate bid for her life, she clawed her way out of the mud.  Her hands reached for the rocks above her head; her feet scrambled to find gravel on the riverbed. 

             
The trees nearby were bending nearly to the ground from the fierce winds howling through them.  Beth tried to stand, but the wind forced her back to her knees.  All was darkness.  She waited for the next lightening flash to catch a glimpse of her surroundings and get her bearings.  She looked towards the swelling river, but there was no sign of the canoe or the precious newborn she had placed inside.  Dazed and confused, Beth held her head and screamed in miserable grief and frustration.

             
“Help me.  Somebody please.  Help me and my baby.”

             
Her cries were lost as they mingled with the roar of the approaching tornado.  Hail began to fall from the skies.  Beth was being stoned with golf ball size hail.  She scrambled toward a narrow area where the bank overhung the river.  She could find shelter there until the river rose.  She hoped the storm would pass soon, so that she could search for her baby.  She no longer feared Catfish and his punishment.  This was a far more dangerous fight for survival.  She prayed that God would be merciful and save the life of her little baby boy.  She prayed that somehow, some way, he would be protected from drowning in the raging river.  She felt along the bank until she found a group of large tree roots to hold on to, and there she huddled in the water, praying and hoping against all hope that the tree above her would not come crashing down upon her.

             
Back up on the other side of the hill, Catfish had already regained consciousness.  He wiped the blood from his eyes and felt the wound on his head. Liza had packed a powerful wallop, whatever she had hit him with.  He had underestimated her, that’s for sure.  His whole future would be destroyed if Liza made it to town.  He was tightening the loose distributer cap on the truck when the first few drops of rain started coming down.  He had started loosening the cap whenever the truck was going to sit parked for a while, for extra insurance against Liza taking off.  He shuddered to think where he would be if Liza had gotten it started.  He might already be sitting in jail.  No, that would not happen.  He was going after her.  She could not have gone far in her condition and in the dark. Not knowing the area, she would probably stick to the paved road.  It would be easy to find her and bring her back. 

             
Catfish dropped the hood and slammed it shut.  He opened the driver’s side door and put the flashlight back underneath the seat.  The keys were still in the ignition.  The keys. She had found the keys.  That meant she had found his money.  And the rings.  He cursed aloud.  If Liza turned him in to the police and gave them the rings, then not only was he facing prison for drugs, robbery, and kidnapping, but he was facing the death penalty for the murder of Frankie Carnel, not to mention Inetha.  His troubles just kept piling up.

             
Inetha was his biggest regret.  His temper had proved to be his undoing that time too.  He just couldn’t stand to be talked down to, and Inetha had called him white trash.  Those were the exact words she had used when she found out about the marijuana patch down in the woods. 

             
“Phineas Jones, you ain’t nothin’ but poor white trash.  You sorry, good-for-nothing piece of white trash.  How can you bring damnation upon our household by peddling that devil’s weed.  I’ll not have it, Catfish.  I won’t!  I’m packin’ my bag and goin’ back home.  And I have to tell you, it’s my duty as a Christian woman to stop in and tell the sheriff what you been up to.  If you’re smart, and I doubt that you got much sense in that old head, but if you’re smart, you’ll burn that acre of sin before you get in more trouble than just losing yore missus.”

             
He hadn’t meant to kill her.  He just meant to shut her up.  All that talk about damnation and jail.  All that preaching and hollering.  He just wanted her to shut up.  By the time he took his hands from around her neck, Inetha lay lifeless on the floor of the trailer.  He had tried to bring her back to no avail.  Inetha, his bride, was gone. 
Why couldn’t she have just shut up and done as she was told?  Why? 
He had dressed her up in her Sunday best, combed her hair as pretty as he could, and buried her with her Bible in her hands, which he crossed over her lap just like he had seen them do up at McDonald’s funeral home.  She would rest peacefully on the backside of the hill facing the east so she could rise to meet Jesus in the rapture when He returned.  She would be proud he remembered that.  His eyes welled up with tears. 
She was a pretty good woman to put up with me.  And now it’s too late.  If they catch me, they’ll bring Old Sparky out of retirement, and I’ll fry.

             
Catfish cranked the truck and threw it in reverse.  The rain was getting heavier as he pulled out onto the main road.  He couldn’t worry about a little bit of rain at this point.  He had to find Liza before she found the police. 
Crazy kid.  Now why couldn’t she just stay put? 

Chapter 23

Water’s a Rising

             
Catfish had gotten about a half a mile down the  gravel road.  He forced himself to slow down and search for signs of Liza in the ditches and along the sides of the road. Rain was coming down in blinding torrents and pouring in through the broken window and soaking him.  By this time  he was actually torn between his anger at her for leaving and his worry for the unborn child.  He had grown quite fond of Liza and had made big plans for them as a family.  The girl had no patience.  If she had just waited a few more months, he would have had the money to build their home.  It wouldn’t be so bad.  Well, he would find her.  He would find her and convince her that it was in her best interest to stop this foolishness and come home before she hurt herself, or worse, little P.Jays.

             
The wind was beginning to gather speed. Hail began to fall and bounce off the hood of the truck
. 

             
“
Holy Cow!”

    
And then, all at once, he heard the brutal pounding of it against the roof of the truck.  It beat against the metal roof with such force that Catfish feared it would tear through the roof or break the windshield.  Large stones of hail came through the broken driver’s side window and hit him on the shoulder and face.   Frantic to get out of their painful blows, he pulled the truck to the edge of the road and cut the engine.  He scooted his body across the seat and managed to wedge himself down in the floorboard amid the garbage.  He pulled a newspaper over his head and tried to stay dry as the storm pounded the truck unmercifully. 

             
Then he heard it-- the loudest roar he had ever experienced.  It sounded like a thousand freight trains rushing along in one breathtaking course, bent on destruction, bearing down on him and the old GMC.  He felt the truck shake.  He felt it suddenly begin to lift off the ground.  He screamed out in utter terror. 

             
“Ahhhhhhhh...uggghhhh..owwwww,” he screamed as the truck was tossed into the air like a toy thrown from a toddler’s hand.   He was being thrown about in the interior of the truck.  His head hit the dash, the door, the seat.  There was nothing he could do to control the situation.  He was at the mercy of the storm.  And the storm was winning.  After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the wind shift and the truck began to fall back to earth, rolling and tumbling as it fell. 

             
The truck finally hit the ground with a jarring thud and rolled.  He felt it rolling over and over.  He was screaming out loud and begging God to help him, begging God to make it stop. 

             
“God...Goddd!  Make it stop.  Make it stop!”  he screamed breathlessly.  “I swear I’ll change.  No more drug deals.  I’ll let her go.  I promise.  Make it stop!”

             
A huge clap of thunder nearly made him wet his pants.  It split a nearby tree, the top of which came crashing down upon the already crumpled truck.  In a few more seconds, the storm had abated and nothing was left but eerie silence and a rusted out GMC truck at the bottom of a deep gorge, soon to be filled with the raging waters of the swollen Buffalo River.

Chapter 24

By Dawn’s Early Light

              Callie Mathis had just gotten up to start the coffee at dawn.  She yawned and stretched as she poured her first cup.  Her husband Sam yawned as he joined her.

     “
Did that storm last night wake you?  It was a doozy.”

          “
Didn’t hear a thing.”