The wind picked up, making a shrill wail as it whipped my car back and forth. After fifteen minutes of white-knuckle driving with my heart thudding in my chest, I finally found the gas station. As I pulled into the lot, I spotted a white news van with a large red KHTX painted on the side and a small satellite dish on top, speeding away from the Conoco and down a road headed for the beach.
I pulled my car out of the gas station’s parking lot and followed the van, trading asphalt for sand as I pulled onto the drive leading toward the beach. The sand shifted beneath my car’s tires, and I prayed I didn’t get stuck. I found the news van stopped near the shore, and I parked my car, shut off the engine, and then climbed outside.
The beach looked much more intimidating from this angle, with the waves towering over me. The wind almost knocked me down as I struggled to walk across the beach toward the van. Sand and salt, carried on the air currents, stung my eyes. I approached the news van, looking for Mr. Zimmerman or his cameraman, but found no one outside, so I went to the driver’s door.
Mr. Zimmerman sat perfectly still in the seat as he stared at the approaching storm, not blinking an eye, making me wonder if he were alive. But when I knocked on the door, he jumped and then rolled down the window. His eyes widened as he looked at me.
“Dr. Kennedy?” he yelled over the wind. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to speak to you. It’s sort of urgent.”
His expression turned sour. “Now?”
“Yes. As I said, it’s urgent.”
“I can’t talk right now. The storm’s coming in, and I have to document it. You really should go. It’s not safe.”
“It’s not safe for you, either. Can’t you at least come back to the gas station with me so we can talk?”
“Talk about what? You said you couldn’t do anything to help me.”
“I know, but I’ve had a few developments come up that I think you’d like to hear.”
He shook his head. “I won’t leave!”
“Not even if I can help you?”
“Help me? You ruined me! I should sue you is what I should do. You said you’d never failed to cure a client, but you failed me. My life is a total, screwed-up disaster. Now, will you please leave?”
The waves came closer, crashing with a thunderous fury as the sea level rose. Bits of foam flecked the air. Cold droplets splashed my skin. I tasted their salty brine on my tongue. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the water would soon rise to where I stood. What in the world was the man thinking?
As far as I could tell, he’d brought no camera crew with him, which meant that he intended to be out here on the beach by himself as the waves rolled in. Drowning seemed like an awful way to go, but then again, he wasn’t in his right mind.
Zack pressed the button to roll up the window, but I grabbed the glass and he released the button.
“You can’t do this,” I said. “You have to come back with me. Please. You can’t leave your family.”
“What do you know about my family?”
“I spoke to your wife earlier.”
“My wife? Did she tell you that she kicked me out? Left my stuff on the driveway and changed the door locks? She wouldn’t even let me visit the kids, even though I’d done nothing to hurt them. I’d never even raised my voice. Not once. She made me leave because I was a bad bookkeeper, because I squandered all our money and life savings on trinkets. Do you know how I felt the day I realized I lost my family? Nothing compares to that kind of pain. I don’t care what they say—losing your family is the worst pain you’ll ever experience. And even after that, after all that heartache, do you know what I did? I went online and purchased another one.”
His voice cracked as tears formed in his eyes. His hands shook as he removed his glasses.
“Let me do this, Dr. Kennedy. Let me go so they can have their lives back. They’ll get the life insurance, and my debts will be erased. I owe them that much, at least.”
I tried to remain calm, but having my suspicions confirmed that he was indeed trying to commit suicide came as a shock. “Zack, listen to yourself,” I said. “They don’t need your money. They need you. Your wife and your kids and your unborn baby—they all need you.”
“No they don’t! I’ve ruined their lives. Can’t you see that?”
Beyond the van, the sky roared with tornadic fury. I felt as if I stared into the gaping maw of hell itself. Gray clouds spiraled, making a huge funnel-shaped formation. The wind roared like a freight train.
“Goodness gracious,” Zack muttered, “is that a tornado forming over the water?”
He grabbed his camera, unlatched the door, and jumped out of the van. I followed as he ran toward the water. The waves had risen to the van’s front tires. Zack splashed through the water as he stood on the beach, facing the storm head-on with the camera on his shoulder, waves crashing around his ankles.
“Mr. Zimmerman,” I called over the raging wind. “What are you doing?”
“If I’m going to go,” he shouted back, “then I’ll do it like this. That tornado is headed straight this way. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect
