Page 2 of Going Once

When dawn broke in the east, Nola’s clothes were soaked and she was exhausted. But daylight brought hope. It was no longer raining, and her fever had broken. She was weak, but what the hell. Things could be worse.

Twice during the night she’d had to climb higher to stay out of the water, and she was again straddling a limb and hugging the trunk. Her skin was raw from the abrasion of the bark, and the palms of her hands were bleeding from holding on so tight.

New horror came with daylight when she looked back at where her house once stood and realized it was gone. Either it was underwater or had washed off the foundation and moved past her in the night. Her vision blurred as she quickly looked away. No need dwelling on what she’d lost. Unless she got rescued, the issue was moot.

She looked down into the dark churning water below her, then out through the branches to the vast expanse of flooded land, and gasped. The water was rife with the remnants of people’s lives, like the boiling stew in a witch’s cauldron with its eye of newt, a goblin’s ear and the scale from a fire-breathing dragon. This cauldron had pieces of houses swept from their foundations, bloated animal carcasses and uprooted trees, all caught up in the floating debris, all rushing downriver at a breakneck pace.

Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t think, her hands shaking so badly it was difficult to hold on. It finally occurred to her that part of this was her body’s cry for sustenance, and she remembered the food and water.

She found the phone as she was digging in her pocket for the food and felt a few moments of relief, thinking she would soon be rescued. She’d completely forgotten she had it. Her hands were shaking as she took it out, and as she did, water ran out of the case and down her arm.

The sight sent her into a new wave of despair. She was sobbing as she tried desperately to get a signal, moving it in every direction, but it was obvious the phone was dead, water-soaked and beyond repair. She dropped it in the water and leaned her forehead against the tree. Her face felt hot. Her eyes were burning, which meant her fever was back up. Scared and shaky, she dissolved into tears as the runaway river rolled on beneath her feet. When she managed to get herself together, she finally ate some cheese and drank some of the water, wishing time would move as fast as the water rushing past her. But the law of physics was impervious to the Mississippi flood, and so she closed her eyes, held on to the tree and focused her thoughts on happier days.

* * *

She was sitting in Granny’s lap on a hot summer night, listening to the bullfrogs croak and the night birds calling while Granny was putting her to sleep. The soft, low-country drawl of the old woman’s voice was soothing to a little girl’s heart.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”

Creak, creak, creak, went the rocker as it rocked against the loose boards in the porch.

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside still waters.”

* * *

Nola sobbed. Where, God? Where are those still waters now?

* * *

Creak, creak, creak. Still rocking. Still listening as the verses spilled out of Granny’s mouth as easy as honey in a spoon. Still feeling the strength and the love in Granny’s work-worn hands.

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…”

“Granny?”

“What baby?”

“Why are we feeding the enemy?”

Granny’s laugh rolled through Nola like wind through the trees.

“Close your eyes, baby girl, and just listen.”

Creak, creak, creak, went the rocker on the same loose board. The last thing Nola heard before the Sandman took her under was Granny’s voice.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me…”

* * *

It was the loud crack, and then the sound of a big tree dying as the roots gave way that woke Nola up with a start. She looked down just as a tree from the grove fell into the flood with a tremendous splash. She watched in horror as it hit and bounced, making waves large enough to reach up within feet of where she was sitting. Then it was pulled into the current and became part of the debris floating downriver.

She threw back her head and screamed, both in fright and in rage, wondering how long it would be before her tree went down and took her under, too.

As the river continued to rise, she was forced yet again, to climb to a higher limb. But once she’d reached that height, it became apparent she was not the only one stranded in this location.

The Lewis family were her nearest neighbors. Their house was across the road and about a hundred yards upriver, normally hidden from view by trees. Only now the trees were gone and Nola had a clear view of the house, which was nearly submerged. Only the very top part of the roof was visible, and the occupants—Whit and Candy Lewis, and Candy’s mother, Ruth Andrews—were on it and clinging to each other, just feet away from being washed off and into the flood.

Horrified by the sight, Nola started to call out to them, but then decided it would serve no purpose. She was just as stranded as they were, and just as likely to drown. She hugged the trunk a little tighter and once again, let her thoughts drift to the past.

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