Wade felt a weight lift off his shoulders.“I haven’t seen any here, either.”
“Good,” Jackson said, handing him a bottle of water.“Maybe we’ll stay lucky.”
Wade drank the water in three gulps.When he’d arrived on the scene, he’d expected death, in addition to destruction.Dealing with fatalities was an unpleasant part of the job, and one he’d rather avoid on his first day.
“My dad sent me to relieve you,” Jackson said.“He’s meeting with the emergency response team at the evac center, and he’d like for you to be there.”
Wade nodded and removed his gloves.He’d already searched most of the rubble.The rain had abated, and the immediate danger had passed.
“I appreciate you coming out.We don’t have enough responders for every location.”
“No problem,” Wade said.“I’m happy to help.”
Jackson shook hands with him again, and Wade returned to his truck.He shrugged out of his damp jacket and safety vest.Then he removed his Stetson, which was soaked through.For a minute, he sat behind the wheel with his eyes closed.After a short break, he checked his phone for messages.He’d texted his mother earlier.She usually ignored him, but not this time.She’d responded with two words:I’m safe.
Sheriff Nava had also texted for an update on Rocksprings, followed by a request for Wade to report to Lost Lake High at 8:00 p.m.It was 7:39.Wade downed another bottle of water, along with two more aspirin, on his way to the evacuation center.His headache had returned as soon as the adrenaline dissipated.
The high school parking lot swarmed with activity.He spotted his mother’s Subaru with about one hundred other vehicles.White canopy tents, manned by volunteers, appeared to have stacks of emergency supplies.There was a line of evacuees waiting for assistance.Wade pulled into an empty space with caution.
Before he checked into the front office, he found a men’s room and used the facilities.He grimaced at the sight of his reflection in the mirror above the sink.There was blood crusted in his eyebrow, just beneath the lump on his temple, and his face was dirty.His clothes were soiled and damp.He took a moment to wash up.
Sheriff Nava was in a conference room with four other officials.He rose to greet Wade with a warm handshake.They’d never met in person, but Wade recognized him from video calls.They’d spoken several times about Wade’s background, and his duties as a deputy sheriff.“Thanks for joining us, Hendricks.”
“Of course.”
“Jackson told me you were saving kittens in Rocksprings.”
Wade assumed this was a joke.He glanced at the fire chief, who was also in the room.“Not true.I leave the kittens to the FD.”
Nava laughed at his quick response.Rivalry and trash-talking between departments was a tenet of law enforcement, along with gallows humor.Nava introduced Wade to the head of the fire department and other officials.Then they sat down at the table for the briefing.
Wade listened as the female officer detailed the situation in Lakeside.She recited the number of structures damaged and injuries sustained.Then it was Wade’s turn to update the team on Rocksprings.He followed her lead and reported the facts.He also mentioned the water tower, which would require special equipment to move.
“I appreciate the initiative you’ve taken in these rural communities,” Sheriff Nava said, more solemn now.“We have only one fatality so far, and fewer injuries than anticipated.I believe it’s because of the swift actions of our first responders.”
Nava went on to explain that the death was due to a vehicular accident during the crux of the storm.Then he discussed the ongoing emergency response.Cleanup and recovery crews would start first thing in the morning.
“Get some rest,” Nava said at the meeting’s conclusion.“I need you back here at 0600.”
Wade nodded his understanding before he left.A strange energy gripped him, despite his fatigue.He felt good about the work he’d done today.He felt hopeful about his new job and new coworkers.He also felt an undercurrent of anticipation, because he was looking forward to seeing Mary again.
Volunteers had gathered inside the high school’s cafeteria, not far from the conference room.Wade searched the crowd warily.Fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead, illuminating the stark space.It had been cleared of tables.Rows of cots stretched from one end of the room to another.Tired evacuees were settling down for the night—with a few exceptions.There was a group of old-timers in cowboy hats sitting on fold-up chairs in the corner.One was slapping his knee, while a bearded man strummed a guitar and a long-haired woman shimmied with a tambourine.
The woman was, of course, his mother.
She was wearing bangles on her wrist, jeans with sequined hearts on the pockets, and cowboy boots.She bumped the tambourine against her hip in time with the beat.Wade wasn’t embarrassed by her fashion choices, her percussion skills, or her joie de vivre.He didn’t think any of it was appropriate for an evacuation center, but what really bothered him was her level of intoxication.She held a red cup in her free hand.She swayed unsteadily, giggling, and almost spilled its contents.
Wade’s jaw clenched like it had been cranked in a vise.
He scanned the area and saw Mary, also holding a red cup.She sat at a distance, as if trying to separate herself from the spectacle.
Wade walked past the rows of evacuees, his neck heating with anger.He wished he could remain unruffled and unaffected.He wished he could let things go.Most of all, he wished his last name wasn’t Hendricks.
As he got closer, Wynona sensed his presence.Her tambourine stilled, midair.She turned toward him.He hadn’t told her he was coming to town.Her face went slack with recognition—and something darker, like revulsion.
Damned if it didn’t cut him straight to the bone.
His own mother, before she could school her features, looked at him like he was her worst nightmare.
