Flood Plains by Mark Wheaton (best ereader under 100 .TXT) 📕

He was only in for a second before the sludge worms came around either side of the canopy, aimed right at his legs. Reaching his hands to the trailer, Edwin launched himself out of the water onto the relative safety of the trailer.

Tony had waited for him, but now Edwin was hurrying him towards the overpass.

“Come on, Tony!” Big Time cried, his son climbing up the rain-slicked trailer towards him.

Tony slipped and slid, clawing frantically for a finger hold, but he finally made it within a few feet of Big Time’s outstretched hand.

“You’ve almost made it!” Scott yelled. “Keep coming!”

“Dad!” Tony cried, nearing his father.

“I’ve got you, son!”

But no sooner had Big Time said this than the poltergeist force attendant to the sludge worms bashed into the fallen trailer. Edwin slipped, smashing his face directly into the steel trailer wall. Tony whipped around to grab him, but gas station manager was already sliding back down towards the water.

“No!” yelled Tony.

It was too late. A thick tendril of black shot out of the water like a whip, wrapped itself around Edwin’s ankle, and dragged the unconscious man under.

This was too much for Big Time. He leaped off the bridge and onto the trailer, causing it to lean far to one side. He grabbed Tony, turned, and ran him back to the bridge. He slipped as he went but immediately got back on his feet.

“Scott!” he yelled, lifting Tony off the trailer and handing the hundred-pound teen up to his friend like a sack of potatoes.

Scott grabbed Tony by the arms and lifted him straight onto the overpass. As soon as Tony was airborne, the poltergeist effect slammed into the trailer. Big Time was dropped to his knees, the air punched out of him. He waited to feel the lasso of the sludge worms, but he was apparently just slightly out of their reach. But now the trailer itself was starting to slide off the junk pile, which would send Big Time right into the water.

Jumping to his feet, Big Time lunged for the bridge. His fingers missed, but hands grabbed for his wrists. As the trailer slid away into the floodwaters, Muhammad, Scott, and Tony dead-lifted Big Time straight up and over the guard rail.

“Jesus Christ, you’re heavy!” Scott exclaimed as soon as soon as Big Time was on his feet.

The big man was about to retort when he saw his son standing in front of him. His eyes were full of tears as Big Time wrapped him up in a hug.

“I thought you were dead,” Tony cried.

“Yeah, I thought I was a few times, too. But knowing you might be out here kept me going.”

Tony nodded and buried his head in Big Time’s shoulder.

“Mom?” Big Time asked quietly. “Grandma? George? Robert? Wesley?”

When Tony’s only answer was to cry harder, Big Time had his answer. He nodded and hugged his son tighter. He didn’t want to admit that, in his heart, he was overjoyed, so strong had been his belief that he’d never see any of his boys again.

Chapter 24

The eye of the hurricane was forty miles across. It had reached Houston at midday and seemed to hover directly above the skyscrapers of downtown. Anyone outside the eye was still caught in the storm, sheets of rain cascading down from black clouds above. Inside the eye, it was like any other day, the sun streaming down through an otherwise cloudless blue sky. It was akin to being on top of a mountain, able to look down at storms roaming the valleys below.

After so long inside the storm, Alan felt a true sense of tranquility inside the eye. There was no rain, barely any wind. To be unaffected by weather even for a fleeting moment was a godsend.

The raft was still tied up below the overpass, but everything around it was different. The city was suddenly so quiet that they could hear the water lapping against the overturned roof.

“Should we try and yell out? See if anyone can hear us?”

Sineada, who was tying down the water bottles together with strips of plastic as if in preparation to leave, shook her head.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea. No telling who or what may respond, and we aren’t in any position to defend ourselves.”

Alan knew she was probably right. Mia stood in the center of the raft, utilizing the newfound visibility to survey the area.

“What do you see?” Alan asked from his prone position.

“Not a whole lot.”

“What’re you looking for?”

Mia was about to reply but then looked over to Sineada, unsure if she could say.

“What? What’s going on?”

“She’s looking for Buffalo Bayou,” Sineada said. “We have to get to Galveston.”

“Galveston?” Alan was startled. “What about getting me to a hospital?”

“There’s not going to be a hospital in the city,” Sineada began. “If we can get down to Galveston, there’ll be boats, Coast Guard, more than likely. That’s how it was during Katrina, wasn’t it? Navy hospital ships?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why we’re going to Galveston, is it?” Alan asked.

“There is something else,” Sineada said, wondering when Mia’s daddy got so perceptive. “We may have a rare opportunity to stop this creature from killing more people.”

Alan tried to process this. He knew she meant to do something related to her and Mia’s psychic abilities but couldn’t fathom how. What it did tell him was that Sineada thought he was going to die and there wasn’t much they could do to prevent this. He wondered if Mia knew this, too. He tried to imagine if death would be preferable to living without his legs.

No answer was forthcoming.

•  •  •

“Tell me what happened.”

Big Time said this so softly that Tony and the others weren’t sure he’d said anything at all. But then he looked up at his son, a pleading look in his eyes.

With the rig gone, the Deltech survivors had hurried to an SUV parked haphazardly at one of the highest points of the overpass. The keys in