Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

the water and long shadows from the cypress trees, where in summer gators would be calling and small game would be looking for cover. The gentle rain continued.

Wearing twenty extra pounds of dive weights to help fight the current, Gabe backed into the water, inflated his vest, and drifted out into the river until he found the buoy left from his last dive. He deflated the vest, dropped down the line a few feet, stopped for his prayer, and then dropped to the bottom. With the extra weight he was able to hold his position without having to dig in. As he’d planned, he was on the upstream side of the old bridge, closer to the pit where the pier dangled precariously above his head.

“On bottom.”

“Roger, on bottom.”

“Beginning search.”

“Roger, beginning search. Try not to lose com this time.”

Too late. Gabe was already loosening the wire nuts and pulling loose the com cable. He braced against the current, held the umbilical with his right hand, and stretched forth his left. As he opened his fingers a ball of light jumped forward, illuminating a large area of river bottom around the new bridge. He could see three of the center bridge piers hanging from the bridge, not even close to touching the river bottom. There were piles of old trees and trash, and as he looked back at the old iron bridge, he could see piles of stone from the piers and tons of twisted steel. A sixty-pound catfish retreated from the light and a school of mullet darted past. Gabe shuddered as he remembered the fish attacking Charlie.

As the light exploded from his outstretched arm, Gabe commanded, “Mickey Eberly, awake!” His voice echoed through the water like thunder, but there was no answer. One more try, “Michelle Eberly, awake!”

Nothing. She would have to be a long way downriver not to hear his command, and it was unlikely she would have been carried past the steel tangle of the old bridge. Too many snags. “Well, Mickey, precious child, if not here, then where are you?”

Gabe pushed the com wire jacks back into the plugs on the full-face mask and moved from where he’d found Charlie on the old bridge and began climbing over a mountain of twisted steel, counterweights pulleys, and cables. Even in the light he’d created, he couldn’t see to the bottom of the steel pile. Perhaps when some of this is cleared away he’d be able to see what’s down there worth killing for. He searched for forty-five minutes, not sure what he was looking for. With a frustrated shrug, he got ready to surface. Nothing. There had to be something more.

1300

Corporal Charles Evans’s funeral was that afternoon. The church was full, a state police honor guard lined the entrance, and government officials filled the first rows. Gabe saw Carol and the kids in the first pew across the aisle. She returned his nod with a sad smile. After the opening hymn, the pastor’s greeting, and opening remarks, it was his turn. Gabe took a long breath to calm his butterflies and approached the four steps to the pulpit.

Gabe climbed the steps, arranged his typed pages, and tried to steady himself. When he first looked up from his notes, he nearly gasped aloud. Sitting calmly next to Carol and with his arm around Emily, was Charlie’s ghost, as it had appeared on the river bottom. Gabe looked quickly back at his notes and cleared his throat, before risking looking up again. This time Carol was seated next to her father, with Paul and Emily beside her.

On the other side of the aisle, a stately, ageless, honey-skinned woman tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic smile. She was elegantly dressed, wearing a tignon, the traditional Cajun woman’s headwrap. Dr. Alethea Laveau-Guidry knew Gabriel, as she had always called him, better than anyone in the congregation. And she knew how badly he did not want to be in that pulpit. The rest of the mourners looked up at him expectantly. He took two breaths and exhaled forcefully as if starting a dive. Go.

“Charlie Evans was a proud Marine with two tours in Afghanistan,” Gabe began. “A Marine’s strength comes from holding to an uncompromised code of personal integrity. As you know, Charlie was very proud of his days in the Corps, and the Corps was proud of Charlie, decorating him for courage and valor in combat. Charlie was the finest example of a man dedicated to living by that code as anyone it’s been my honor to know. The pillars of that code are honor, courage, and commitment.

“So when Charlie came to the state police and took the pledge to serve and protect, he didn’t take it lightly. Our pledge became part of his code, part of who he was and how he lived every day.

“What separates guys like Charlie is that, from the beginning, they know what the cost might be, and because of their honor, their courage, and their commitment, they never, never hesitate to do what’s right and what’s necessary. Because he remained true to his code, Charlie leaves a high standard for us to follow.”

Gabe paused and looked directly at Carol and the kids. “Now at the end of Charlie’s watch, because of his faith in the grace of our just and loving God, faith that Charlie demonstrated in the way he lived his life and loved his family, I know angels have joyfully taken him to his heavenly reward.

“As most of you know, Charlie and I were very close. While I can’t begin to understand the pain Carol, Paul, and Emily are experiencing, I find assurance, however, in the Apostle Paul’s words that we don’t grieve as people without hope and not as a people who are alone. More than we realize, we are surrounded and comforted by God’s promise of a final reunion and by the spirits of those who love us. Let’s remember Charlie as a loving husband, father, and brother