"Okay...check with you later, baby. I love you."
"Love you too." She attacked the spot she'd missed on the kitchen floor, then laid down on the couch with a copy of the SUN, a tabloid newspaper. There was a big article warning of "End Time Events" about to happen. She'd been meaning to read it. Kelly looked around the living room, and put a pillow behind her head. Her mother had helped her decorate. Red chintz country curtains, overlaid with crisp white ruffles were hung at the casement windows. Matching chintz pillows marched along the back of the long, brown couch. Their wedding gifts had been practical: tall, matching brass lamps; a VCR; a small Sony television set; dishes and a toaster. Brian's elaborate stereo system dominated one wall. They had filled in with yard sale items for everything else they needed, but it was cozy and cute.
She looked at their senior prom picture in a silver frame on the maple end table. Why in the world had she picked a pink gown? It clashed with her auburn hair. At the time, she had thought it was "chic". Brian looked uncomfortable, but tall and handsome in his tux. My tall, dark and handsome husband, Kelly thought. They had only been married for a year. NOAA weather radio continued to broadcast that the Shenandoah River gauges at the bridges in Front Royal were still reading twelve feet above flood stage. Kelly had worked at the restaurant until closing at 1:00 AM the night before; soon, she dozed off.
Even as she had situated herself on the couch, had she looked, she would have seen the water was rapidly creeping into the yard toward the house.
No one would know until it was too late--but the river gauges were broken. The weather radio was broadcasting erroneous information. The Shenandoah flows from south to north. To compound the problem, Page County--the county below Warren--opened its floodgates...without notifying Warren.
Sergeant Mike Terry had spent all morning helping to evacuate the campgrounds. He had just driven to Morgan's Ford, a low water bridge, and reported by radio to the county that it was covered. He'd never seen it come up so fast before. He instructed the county to notify the highway department to close the road. Mud was caked on his uniform and he headed for town to change clothes, but as he passed the sign to Shenandoah River Estates, he felt a strange urge to go down there--see if they needed help in the subdivision so close to the river. He started down the long dirt road, which had turned to a sea of mud in the last few days. "What a mess"...he said aloud almost hanging it up, but picked up the mike instead.
"105 to Warren County."
"105?"
"Have there been any calls from Shenandoah River Estates?"
"Negative."
"Anybody been down there to check?"
"Negative."
"10-4."
Everything must be okay down there, he reassured himself. I'll turn around up by the next cattle guard. But something seemed to be urging him on. Must be just because I had that weird experience out here that night--you'd think I'd never want to come back here again. I hate this road! But the feeling was insistent that he keep on.
Don Oglethorpe and his wife, Janice, had just finished a quick lunch. Don had had a successful plumbing business in northern Virginia, before he and Janice retired to their home on the Shenandoah River. Don was fondly known as the "Mayor of Shenandoah River Estates", even though there was no such title, but he ran the subdivision's water company, was on the Board, kept his finger on the pulse of the little community.
Janice never wore make-up. Her down-to-earth, no-nonsense outlook on life, surprisingly was lavishly sprinkled with good humor, and a zest for life. She could easily have been a professional interior decorator, as their home reflected a unique flair, but her interests lay in her home, husband and married children. Janice had worked for the police department in Arlington. Every time Don turned on their police scanner, she felt like stuffing cotton in her ears. Their quaint home, filled with antiques, was on the upper road out of the flood-way; however, Don snapped the scanner on to augment the reports coming over the weather radio.
"Still only 12 feet above flood stage--that's not too bad. Sheriff's department seems quiet." Don reached for a toothpick, leaned back in the chair, and crossed his legs. He rubbed at a spot of mud on one of the brown leather western boots. "I didn't drive down by the river when I went up to get the mail...just looked...didn't seem too bad."
Janice cleared dishes and glasses from the round oak table. She shook her head and the short blondish-gray curls bounced slightly. "I'll tell you what's bad--having two radios going at the same time. Why don't you go turn on the TV too, Don? We just might miss something." The words chided, but Janice smiled and started to laugh.
At that moment, Sergeant Terry's transmission came over the scanner.
Don got up from the table, grabbed a navy cap which said, "Friends of the Shenandoah", and jammed it on his head. He pulled a yellow slicker off a hook by the door. It had been raining off and on all morning. "I'd better go meet his car. He's probably just coming to check the height of the river. Back soon."
Janice watched from the window, shaking her head and smiling as her husband jumped in his GMC Jimmy and drove off. They'd been happily married for fifty years. It was always the same--wherever the action was, Don would plant his cowboy boots right in the middle of it.
As Mike Terry maneuvered the Sheriff's Department car through deep ruts slick with mud, his car rounded the bend and started down the hill toward the river. It had started to rain again, pelting bursts lashed the windshield. The wipers beat a strong cadence, but could scarcely clear it away. He gasped...couldn't believe the scene below him.
The river rushed and eddied, furiously churning around the houses, taking them prisoner. Large trees swept past in groups, like rafts racing northward. Propane tanks, a Terry travel trailer...now a storage shed rushed past. How could this possibly have happened so quickly, he wondered? Mike depressed the key on the microphone:
"105 to County."
"105?"
"We need manpower at Shenandoah River Estates--flooding bad! Get a hold of Emergency Management."
Don's blue Jimmy pulled alongside. He started to speak and looked down the hill, "Oh, my God! How could this have happened so fast?"
Mike shook his head. He and Don knew each other from occasionally having coffee together at the little store in town. "I don't know, but we've got to get down there fast. I've radioed for help."
Don jumped out of his truck, opened the back, and grabbed a shiny, black pair of fishermen's waders. "Let's go," he yelled. Sirens were now wailing from two directions: Company 5, Shenandoah Shores in the County, and Company 1 as backup, from town.
Mike hit the switch for the light bar on top of the car, and started down the hill on foot, following Don. Flashing red and blue beams of light turned the heavily falling rain to tiny colorful strobe lights. Kelly Norton's red Tracker still sat in the driveway. The river licked at its doors. It was not until then that they heard the screams above the wailing of the sirens. The little yellow house was surrounded by water. Canada Geese swam serenely by looking in the windows. The pressure of the water made it almost impossible to force open the door on the small back porch. Once open, it was slow moving through the kitchen . Muddy water was now swirling above their knees. Kelly Norton stood in the middle of the living room, clutching a silver picture frame to her chest. She trembled violently--her brown eyes were glazed. The screams coming from her were blood curdling. Ugly, brackish water already covered the end tables. Couch pillows floated and bobbed slightly from the current the two men had made.
"She's in shock," Mike told Don. "Kelly...Kelly, it's all right...come on! "She continued to scream. It was a high pitched keening.
"Kelly," Don tried to calm her. "We're going to get you out of here. Come on."
There was a slight flicker of recognition in her eyes. The screaming stopped abruptly.