“I’m an EMT.” A man in his mid-thirties raised his hand and approached.
“An EMT? Perfect,” the specialist replied. “What’s your name?”
“Dr. Theodore Bishop.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes, sir. Not currently practicing. Just a tech.” Dr. Bishop shook his head to rearrange the jet-black hair from his face and pursed his thin lips. With his hands shoved in the pockets of his slim-fitting jeans, he moved in. “I can help with any medical situations and I stay pretty fit, so I can do some heavy lifting too, if necessary.”
The specialist eyeballed him. “You’re in. You’ll be in charge of the medical kit. Can you handle that?”
Bishop nodded. “I can.”
“Then let’s roll out, folks.” The FEMA specialist led the way outside the school gym and, in the downpour, turned to his team. “We’ll be taking the southeast quadrant of the community. Lots of people still unaccounted for, so let’s go help them.” He stepped into the driver’s side of a four-wheel drive, three-quarter ton pick-up truck specially equipped with KC lights and a winch.
The others piled in, with Bishop as the last one to enter. He slid onto the leather-wrapped backseat and wiped the rain from his smooth face. Looking through the rear passenger window, his brown eyes narrowed, and he inhaled a deep breath through a pointed nose.
The truck’s engine roared and the wipers were set on high but were barely able to keep up with the pounding rain.
“I gotta take it slow so we don’t end up in trouble ourselves, but with fingers crossed, and butt-cheeks clenched, we should be there inside of thirty minutes.” The FEMA specialist pressed lightly on the gas pedal and started onto the main road.
“Looks like a river out there,” Bishop said.
The man next to him was an Oakview police officer and glanced out. “Sure as hell does. Cripes, I hope our efforts aren’t in vain. So, you’re a doctor working on the trucks?”
“What’s that?” Bishop turned to him.
“You know, the ambulance trucks.”
“Oh. Yeah,” he replied.
“I’m with the Oakview P.D. Been on the force going on three years now. I’ll tell you one thing, I never seen it this bad and I grew up around here. Not far from it, anyway. What about you? You from around here?” He offered his hand. “Dean Redmond. Sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.”
Bishop took his hand. “Pleasure.”
“So?” Redmond pressed on. “Where you from, man?”
“Louisiana. Call came in you all needed some help. A bunch of us came over to offer a hand.”
“Well, we sure are glad you answered that call, Dr. Bishop. Is it still doctor? You know, since you don’t have a practice or nothing.”
Bishop revealed a close-lipped smile. “Still a doctor, but you can call me Theo.”
The man from FEMA peered into the rearview. “This is it, fellas. We’re stopping here and we’ll take the boats out.” He shoved the gear stick into park and cut the engine, leaving on the headlights. “Those clouds are dark as shit. Time to light it up around here.” He switched on the KC lights at what lay ahead. “Jesus, would you look at that?”
Street signs were just above water in an area that looked like a lake. Only about two feet of the homes’ front doors remained visible. Everything below had disappeared.
“What’s the plan, sir?” Bishop asked.
“We’ll divide up. Three in one boat, two in the other, and start searching the homes.” He had parked on the highest point of a bridge above a creek that threatened to spill over. Eyeing the neighborhood below, he inhaled a deep breath. “I could use a hand over here, boys.” He walked to the rear of the truck where a trailer had been hitched that hauled two small boats with outboard engines, both labeled “FEMA” on the sides.
The others assisted in unloading the boats and the teams were formed. Bishop rode with his new-found friend, Officer Dean Redmond from Oakview PD, and another man who had been a firefighter in the same small town. The other boat carried the FEMA specialist and another first responder.
Bishop sat in the front with the firefighter while Redmond took control. He peered up at the darkened sky as flashes of lightning scattered across it in attempt to rip apart the heavens. His hooded weatherproof jacket was helpless in shielding him from the wind-driven rains. He noticed the other rescue boat ahead of theirs slow down, and then the men jumped out.
“Here.” The FEMA officer pointed to a house in front of him. “You go there.” His voice carried above the winds and reached Bishop and his team.
“You heard him, fellas.” Redmond cut the engine and hopped out into the rising waters. “Let’s get inside and see what we can see.”
Theo Bishop, who scarcely reached 5 feet 10, trailed the other two men with the medical kit under his arm, squeezing it for dear life.
They reached the home and swam below through a shattered window until their heads popped above the water again. A couch floated by, then a dining chair and several prescription bottles. Bishop looked at Redmond. “Who lives here?”
“Hell if I know. Best place to look is upstairs. Let’s move.” Redmond sloshed up the staircase. “Hello? It’s the Oakview Police. Anyone here? Anyone hurt?” he shouted.
Bishop was close behind while the other man trailed farther down. “Hello? Anyone here?” His head whipped around to a bedroom at the end of the corridor. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard it.” Redmond pushed the rest of the way up and reached the landing. “Oakview Police. We’re here to help.”
The voices sounded again. They were frail and barely audible. “In here.” It was a woman’s voice.
“This way!” Redmond rushed to the bedroom. “Oh no.” He spotted an elderly couple tucked into a corner of the room. “Are you both okay? I’m Officer Redmond. We’re going to get you out of here, all right?”
The woman nodded. “He needs his pills.”
“Bishop!” Redmond yelled. “I need your help in here!”
Bishop ran toward them. “I’m here. I’m here.”
“He needs some kind of medication…” Redmond
