Finally, he came to his driveway and turned in, suddenly hitting the brakes and pausing to think. He put the truck into park and jumped out. Rainy bullets pelted his face as he leaned his shoulder into the 4x4 mailbox post until it wriggled free in the wet ground. When it did, he wrapped his arms around it, pulled the mailbox out of the ground and threw it in the back of the truck, taking with him the only indicator marking the entrance to 13 Hale Ridge.
Looking like a golden retriever climbing out of a dirty pond, Blake bolted into the kitchen at 2:00 p.m. and shook off the rain as Angelica and the girls played in the living room. “An indoor play day,” she had told them.
“Hi, honey,” she said with a tepid smile.
Blake exhaled, as if he had just successfully fled from a predator and needed to catch his breath in the safety of his den. “Hi. What are you gals up to?”
“We’re playing Connect 4,” she said. “And watching the weather.” Angelica rose and looked at Blake. “I have something for you,” she said. She walked into the kitchen out of earshot of the girls and reached on the shelf above the coat rack. She pulled down a blood-stained blue jacket and handed it to Blake.
“What−what’s this?” Blake asked, shocked to see it, but knowing full well what it was. “Where did it come from?”
Angelica looked up at him in the center of the kitchen. Just as he towered over her physically, she towered over him morally and spiritually. “Well, I can assure you that I don’t know, Blake. But I suspect you do.”
“I don’t kn−”Angelica interrupted Blake by placing her right index finger over his lips. She held his gaze sternly as she twirled her beads with her left thumb and index finger.
“He who makes it wrong must make it right, Blake. Otherwise, he will be found guilty and justice will be swift.” An image of Angelica’s grandmother flashed before her as she recalled what she had been taught about Cherokee beliefs. She repeated what she had learned to Blake. “Good is rewarded, Blake. Evil is punished.”
Blake stared at his wife as she circled him, keeping her touch on his shoulders and catching his gaze each time she fronted him. He felt lightheaded and lost his focus, forgetting for a moment where he was and feeling somewhat hypnotized. Angelica stopped before him and offered a final warning. “This jacket has a home, Blake. Someone is looking for it. Find its rightful home.” Blake stood dumbfounded with his eyes and mouth wide open. He had no idea what to say as he stood drowning in a sea of fear and confusion. He shook his head and tried feverishly to change the subject.
“I uh...I went by to see the sheriff. He had this note for you.”
Angelica took the note from Blake. She read it carefully. “Miami? Intensive care?” Angelica said. She looked up at Blake and then turned to look at the girls. “What does this mean?” she asked. Angelica knew what the message meant, but it was her habit to ask Blake what something meant, just as it was her habit to defer to him on decisions. She didn’t take responsibility for Blake’s decisions. Nor did she feel she could control them. But she could react to them and make choices consistent with her own values.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“I reckon you should call the hospital,” Blake said.
“I’ll try Rose’s cell phone first,” Angelica said. “Oh dear.” Angelica walked to the kitchen phone and lifted the receiver. Blake took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the door. She clicked the button on the wall phone several times. “Blake, there’s no dial tone.”
Blake took the phone, clicked it several times and found the same thing. “Phones are out,” he said. He looked at his cell phone. No service. That wasn’t a surprise as it was rare to get more than one or two bars in the best conditions on Hale Ridge. In this weather, no chance.
“We’ll keep trying,” he said. “It’s too dangerous to go out now and it’s gonna get a whole heap worse.”
Angelica walked to the south-facing kitchen window and stared out. A solid sheet of water cascaded slowly over the glass, giving the impression of a flowing mirage. In her mind, the sounds of the house, of the girls, and of the storm faded, and she heard nothing, only silence. She peered deeply into the mirage and saw her twin sister lying motionless as strangers loomed over her limp body. Angelica concentrated as she tried to see if Rose was lying in a bed—or in a coffin. She stared out the window as if in a trance, thumbing the beads around her neck while murmuring softly.
When a flash of lightning raced brilliantly across the sky and shattered the mirage, Angelica didn’t blink.
***
Clint saw the Dairy Queen on the left when he arrived in Clayton. He followed the directions on his navigation system, turned right, and went down Warwoman Road. Sheets of rain slammed the right side of his car as he drove east on the narrow road. Steep banks sloped down from each side. He had noticed very few cars as he came into town, although the RaceTrac station remained open.
The GPS indicated that he had eleven miles before he reached Hale Ridge. The GPS also said it would take another half hour, but after a mile and a half, Clint saw a line of cars stopped dead ahead of him. A huge oak tree, at least eighty feet tall, had fallen right across the road. The root ball was enormous and lay partially on the eastbound lane. Clint backed up, turned around, and drove to the fire station. He couldn’t imagine there’d be too many fires to put out with it raining like this. He opened his car door and was soaked before he got out. The water was already standing at least an inch on the blacktop. He walked through the glass door and found a couple of fireman sitting at a table in the break room. They were both alert, ready for action. One of them, an older fireman, seemed genuinely happy to see him.
“Howdy,” he said. “Help ya?”
“Yeah,” Clint began, “I’m trying to get down to Hale Ridge road.” The older fireman began shaking his head immediately. “My GPS says I have to go down Warwoman but I didn’t get two miles and there’s a huge tree across the road.”
“There’s a whole mess of them down,” the fireman said. “We got a few calls before phones went down of trees across the road on Warwoman ’tween here and Hale Ridge.”
The younger fireman jumped in. “Shoot I can’t imagine what Hale Ridge is gonna look like. Might not even be there tomorrow,” he said.
“Look I really need to get over there. Is there another way?”
The older fireman looked at Clint. “Son, there ain’t no way you’re getting there. In twenty-four hours or so, maybe you can take a boat.”
The younger fireman spoke up: “You can get to the other side of Hale Ridge from up at Sky Valley or Scaly Mountain.”
“Really?” Clint asked. “Where’s that?”
“Of course it’s likely to be a lot worse that way.”
The older fireman looked down at his younger counterpart. “A heck of a lot worse,” he said to him before turning his stare back to Clint. “Son, you ain’t getting there. Do you have any idea what kind of road Hale Ridge is?”
“No...not really,” Clint admitted.
“Well I understand it might look just like any other road there on your map. But it ain’t. That’s a narrow dirt road winding up, through, and around ravines on the backside of Rabun Bald. With this wind and rain, ’specially if it comes like they say it’s a coming—that’s the last place on earth you wanna be.”
Clint said nothing. He walked over and looked at the large street map on the wall of Rabun County. The older fireman walked over to him. “You ought to go home yourself ’for it gets real nasty out there. After this storm passes the town will get the roads cleared, but a lot of towns are gonna be a mess for a while.”