Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📕

to have that situation under control. Time to haul more of these stalled cars out of the way. And fast, because the water had already risen to his ankles on the supposedly dry side of the street.

While Evarts was saving the old couple, the dam technician had climbed out of the cab and hooked up the next car to the winch. Evarts motioned him back into the driver’s seat before moving to operate the winch. The next car pulled up easily, but they had run out of maneuvering room. The dam technician jockeyed the truck back and forth to no avail. Evarts yelled at him to nudge the first sedan out of the way. The family inside the car started to panic, but Evarts ran to the driver’s window and told them they would stop if their car began to slide into the street. It worked. Soon, they had enough room to winch out the next car.

Once they had cleared the full width of the street, traffic started moving, albeit slowly. Prentice stood in knee-deep water making slow-down motions to anyone who accelerated above a crawl. After the situation seemed to be under control, Evarts went to the first sedan and leaned into the driver’s window.

“Try to start it.”

Nothing. Not even a momentary grind of the starter.

“Okay,” Evarts said, “pile into my truck. Take only one item each.”

“I can carry more!” the woman yelled.

“Do what I say … or stay with your stuff until the rain stops and your car starts. I’m cramming as many people as I can into my truck.”

The woman started to say something, but the husband took her arm and told her to grab her purse and go. They did, along with the two children in back. The old couple and the family totaled six in the truck, plus someone to drive. Evarts worried for a moment whether he could trust the dam technician, but he had been a steady hand and knew how to operate big vehicles.

Evarts put his hand on his shoulder and leaned in close to his ear. “What’s your name?”

“Pete.”

“Okay, Pete, take these people up a few blocks and come right back. Keep your phone handy. I’ll call if there’s a change in plans.”

“I know where to take them. I’ll be back in twenty.”

Pete put the truck in gear, then shifted back to park. When he opened the cab door, Evarts stepped over to see what was wrong.

“If you want me to ferry people out, give me something I can use to get back down here. The cops will have this road shut down.” Pete glanced up the street. “At least, I hope so.”

Evarts reached for his wallet. “Here’s my card. Show them the temp registration if necessary. Tell them to call the cell number if there’s a problem. Just get back here to haul these other people out.”

Without another word, Pete slammed the door and bounced the Raptor down the side yards until he could force his way between cars and into the street. Evarts didn’t wait to see him make the turn on Alisal Road. He ran to the two other cars they had winched out of the road, and told the occupants that when they saw his truck return, they should grab a belonging and jump into the cab. He said he would be busy, so to just get aboard and tell the driver to go. Next, Evarts waded out to Prentice, who still stood in the road directing traffic.

“Are these the trailer park people?” Evarts asked.

“A few,” Prentice said. He pointed. “There’s three cul-de-sacs up along here, and most of these cars belong to residents of those houses.” He shook his head. “There’s almost two hundred trailers in the park, but many are vacation or weekend places. Tom ran up to the office to get a better picture.”

Evarts peered through the rain at the side streets and beyond to what he presumed was the entrance to the trailer park.

“The park’s on the edge of the riverbed,” Evarts said. “Why wouldn’t they see the danger and evacuate first?”

“That’s what Tom asked.” Prentice shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You got this?” Evarts asked.

“Yeah, only a few cars left.”

“I’m going to the office. Something’s wrong.”

Prentice nodded. “I’ll follow after I check these cul-de-sacs for stragglers.”

Evarts moved out of the street to where the water was only ankle deep. Lifting his feet through the water tired him more than he had expected. The unusual, high-step method of walking used leg muscles in an abnormal way. In three blocks, he reached the trailer park entrance. There was no road. About twenty yards of the street had been washed away, and the fast-moving water swiftly eroded the soil beyond the washed-out road. Evarts saw two trailers tilted crazily, one to either side of the asphalt drive. They were about to tip into the water. People had gathered at the entrance, watching the swirling brown water eat away their escape route. They spotted him.

“Help!”

With a downward motion of his hand, he signaled for quiet, then yelled, “Did you see the sheriff?”

“Gone that way,” someone yelled, pointing behind him. “He jumped the fence in that backyard before all this washed away.”

“Where is he?” Evarts yelled.

“Going trailer to trailer, telling people to get out.”

Evarts could not reach the yard Lopez had breached. As he watched, he could see more and more of the road calve and, as soon as it did, the land on the other side of the road washed away before his eyes.

“Hold on a minute!” Evarts yelled.

He called the dam technician and learned that after dropping off the first batch of evacuees at a cluster of motels on the main drag, he was on his way back. Evarts told him to keep getting people out while he handled the situation at the trailer park.

Evarts pantomimed to the crowd that he would head up the nearest cul-de-sac to find a path into the park. As soon as they understood, the people who had been yelling for help