From Pharaoh's Hand

by Cynthia Green

  “Oh God, I don’t wanna die. I’m guilty. I did it. I smoked that weed I got from Cat. Cat, forgive me buddy. I know you got a youngun on the way and all, but I can’t take the rap for ya. I did watch them movies. I slept with Pete’s wife, and I stole them fancy rims from Andy. I did it all that, God. I’m guilty. I don’t wanna die,” he wailed.

  If the situation had not been so dangerous and so dire, the sheriff would have laughed at Poke’s confession. He was crying and praying and admitting to every sin he ever committed. Did he say Cat sold him the weed? I wouldn’t have guessed that.

  Suddenly there came a great whooshing sound as part of the roof was torn back, and the rain suddenly was pouring in. A two by four roofing stud snapped in two, and asphalt shingles fell within inches of the two. Golf ball sized hail was falling around them and on them. And then as suddenly as the storm hit, all went silent. The sheriff called out to the prisoners down the hall.

  “Everyone okay in there?”

  “Yeah, we’re okay. Y’all?”

  “We’re fine. Just part of the roof gone. Come with me Poke. Let’s get a flashlight.”

  They felt their way along the wall until they reached the door to the office where the dispatcher had hunkered down under a desk.

  “Shorty, you alive in there?” the sheriff called out into the darkness.

  “Yeah boss. I’m fine.”

  “Look in that top right drawer of my desk and get the flashlight, would ya.”

  In a few seconds the flashlight was turned on and trained to the ceiling.

  “No damage in here. What about out there?”

  “Lost part of the roof, but I believe the building is sound.”

  “Prisoners all accounted for?”

  “Well, I think we liked to have lost old Poke to a heart attack, but other than that, yes.”

  The telephone interrupted their conversation, and Shorty took the flashlight and headed for the phone.

  “I’ll get the generator going, so we can get some power and get back up and running. If we sustained damage, then a whole lot of other folks did too. That’s probably the first of a passel of calls.” The sheriff led Poke back the cell, much to Poke’s dismay, where Pete, who had heard his frantic confession was waiting with a not so happy expression. Serves the old coot right, thought the sheriff as he turned to go.

  Shorty replaced the receiver, and it began to ring again almost immediately. He let it ring as he shouted to the sheriff.

  “There’s folks trapped in Cedaridge Apartments. A group of neighbors are heading up there with chainsaws. The elementary school sustained a lot of damage, and the high school is just a foundation now!”

  “Do the best you can with the phones. Hopefully the Rescue Squad didn’t get hit and is able to respond to calls of injury. I’m going out to assess the damage. Call Tommy and Danny and see if they got any damage. If they can, get them to load their four wheelers up and be ready to go out into the county. There may be more people trapped and in need of assistance. If you need me radio me. Keep me updated.”

  “You got it. Be careful out there Boss.”

  Chapter 22

  Breaking Free

  Cold rain was pelting Beth’s bleeding forehead causing her to turn her head from side to side as if trying to avoid the irritation. Thunder boomed above her in the darkness. Startled, she jerked and tried to push herself up with her hands, only to slip and slide in the mud that surrounded the rocky area where she lay. She was lying with her feet submerged in the shallow edge of the river, the water lapping at her waist. She groaned as her body fought to gain purchase in the muddy ground. What’s happening? Where am I? Oh God, my baby. Where’s my baby? The memory of giving birth in the grove of trees flashed before her, and in a desperate bid for her life, she clawed her way out of the mud. Her hands reached for the rocks above her head; her feet scrambled to find gravel on the riverbed.

  The trees nearby were bending nearly to the ground from the fierce winds howling through them. Beth tried to stand, but the wind forced her back to her knees. All was darkness. She waited for the next lightening flash to catch a glimpse of her surroundings and get her bearings. She looked towards the swelling river, but there was no sign of the canoe or the precious newborn she had placed inside. Dazed and confused, Beth held her head and screamed in miserable grief and frustration.

  “Help me. Somebody please. Help me and my baby.”

  Her cries were lost as they mingled with the roar of the approaching tornado. Hail began to fall from the skies. Beth was being stoned with golf ball size hail. She scrambled toward a narrow area where the bank overhung the river. She could find shelter there until the river rose. She hoped the storm would pass soon, so that she could search for her baby. She no longer feared Catfish and his punishment. This was a far more dangerous fight for survival. She prayed that God would be merciful and save the life of her little baby boy. She prayed that somehow, some way, he would be protected from drowning in the raging river. She felt along the bank until she found a group of large tree roots to hold on to, and there she huddled in the water, praying and hoping against all hope that the tree above her would not come crashing down upon her.

  Back up on the other side of the hill, Catfish had already regained consciousness. He wiped the blood from his eyes and felt the wound on his head. Liza had packed a powerful wallop, whatever she had hit him with. He had underestimated her, that’s for sure. His whole future would be destroyed if Liza made it to town. He was tightening the loose distributer cap on the truck when the first few drops of rain started coming down. He had started loosening the cap whenever the truck was going to sit parked for a while, for extra insurance against Liza taking off. He shuddered to think where he would be if Liza had gotten it started. He might already be sitting in jail. No, that would not happen. He was going after her. She could not have gone far in her condition and in the dark. Not knowing the area, she would probably stick to the paved road. It would be easy to find her and bring her back.

  Catfish dropped the hood and slammed it shut. He opened the driver’s side door and put the flashlight back underneath the seat. The keys were still in the ignition. The keys. She had found the keys. That meant she had found his money. And the rings. He cursed aloud. If Liza turned him in to the police and gave them the rings, then not only was he facing prison for drugs, robbery, and kidnapping, but he was facing the death penalty for the murder of Frankie Carnel, not to mention Inetha. His troubles just kept piling up.

  Inetha was his biggest regret. His temper had proved to be his undoing that time too. He just couldn’t stand to be talked down to, and Inetha had called him white trash. Those were the exact words she had used when she found out about the marijuana patch down in the woods.

  “Phineas Jones, you ain’t nothin’ but poor white trash. You sorry, good-for-nothing piece of white trash. How can you bring damnation upon our household by peddling that devil’s weed. I’ll not have it, Catfish. I won’t! I’m packin’ my bag and goin’ back home. And I have to tell you, it’s my duty as a Christian woman to stop in and tell the sheriff what you been up to. If you’re smart, and I doubt that you got much sense in that old head, but if you’re smart, you’ll burn that acre of sin before you get in more trouble than just losing yore missus.”

  He hadn’t meant to kill her. He just meant to shut her up. All that talk about damnation and jail. All that preaching and hollering. He just wanted her to shut up. By the time he took his hands from around her neck, Inetha lay lifeless on the floor of the trailer. He had tried to bring her back to no avail. Inetha, his bride, was gone. Why couldn’t she have just shut up and done as she was told? Why? He had dressed her up in her Sunday best, combed her hair as pretty as he could, and buried her with her Bible in her hands, which he crossed over her lap just like he had seen them do up at McDonald’s funeral home. She would rest peacefully on the backside of the hill facing the east so she could rise to meet Jesus in the rapture when He returned. She would be proud he r
emembered that. His eyes welled up with tears. She was a pretty good woman to put up with me. And now it’s too late. If they catch me, they’ll bring Old Sparky out of retirement, and I’ll fry.

  Catfish cranked the truck and threw it in reverse. The rain was getting heavier as he pulled out onto the main road. He couldn’t worry about a little bit of rain at this point. He had to find Liza before she found the police. Crazy kid. Now why couldn’t she just stay put?

  Chapter 23

  Water’s a Rising

  Catfish had gotten about a half a mile down the gravel road. He forced himself to slow down and search for signs of Liza in the ditches and along the sides of the road. Rain was coming down in blinding torrents and pouring in through the broken window and soaking him. By this time he was actually torn between his anger at her for leaving and his worry for the unborn child. He had grown quite fond of Liza and had made big plans for them as a family. The girl had no patience. If she had just waited a few more months, he would have had the money to build their home. It wouldn’t be so bad. Well, he would find her. He would find her and convince her that it was in her best interest to stop this foolishness and come home before she hurt herself, or worse, little P.Jays.

  The wind was beginning to gather speed. Hail began to fall and bounce off the hood of the truck.

  “Holy Cow!”

  And then, all at once, he heard the brutal pounding of it against the roof of the truck. It beat against the metal roof with such force that Catfish feared it would tear through the roof or break the windshield. Large stones of hail came through the broken driver’s side window and hit him on the shoulder and face. Frantic to get out of their painful blows, he pulled the truck to the edge of the road and cut the engine. He scooted his body across the seat and managed to wedge himself down in the floorboard amid the garbage. He pulled a newspaper over his head and tried to stay dry as the storm pounded the truck unmercifully.

  Then he heard it-- the loudest roar he had ever experienced. It sounded like a thousand freight trains rushing along in one breathtaking course, bent on destruction, bearing down on him and the old GMC. He felt the truck shake. He felt it suddenly begin to lift off the ground. He screamed out in utter terror.

  “Ahhhhhhhh...uggghhhh..owwwww,” he screamed as the truck was tossed into the air like a toy thrown from a toddler’s hand. He was being thrown about in the interior of the truck. His head hit the dash, the door, the seat. There was nothing he could do to control the situation. He was at the mercy of the storm. And the storm was winning. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the wind shift and the truck began to fall back to earth, rolling and tumbling as it fell.

  The truck finally hit the ground with a jarring thud and rolled. He felt it rolling over and over. He was screaming out loud and begging God to help him, begging God to make it stop.

  “God...Goddd! Make it stop. Make it stop!” he screamed breathlessly. “I swear I’ll change. No more drug deals. I’ll let her go. I promise. Make it stop!”

  A huge clap of thunder nearly made him wet his pants. It split a nearby tree, the top of which came crashing down upon the already crumpled truck. In a few more seconds, the storm had abated and nothing was left but eerie silence and a rusted out GMC truck at the bottom of a deep gorge, soon to be filled with the raging waters of the swollen Buffalo River.

  Chapter 24

  By Dawn’s Early Light

  Callie Mathis had just gotten up to start the coffee at dawn. She yawned and stretched as she poured her first cup. Her husband Sam yawned as he joined her.

  “Did that storm last night wake you? It was a doozy.”

  “Didn’t hear a thing.”

  “The electricity’s been off, because the clock was flickering.”

  “Hm. Wonder if the river’s up,” she muttered as she made her way to the French doors that led to the patio. She pulled the curtains back. The sun was just coming up over the hill, promising a gorgeous summer day. Callie and Sam lived up on a hill that overlooked the Buffalo, but was well above the flood plain. Sam had brought Callie out to the property the day they became engaged and told her how romantic it would be to watch the sun coming up over the river every morning. So in the warmer months, Callie and Sam would have their morning coffee out on the deck and plan their day.

  “Man, the river is way up,” he remarked. “What’s that? Looks like Flatwoods Canoe Rentals has lost one of their canoes. Maybe I better put my boots on and pull it to the house.” There were a few limbs strewn about the yard, and the garbage cans had been overturned, but other than that, there were no other signs of the havoc that the storm had played in other parts of the county the night before. A strange sound filled the air, startling Sam into action. It couldn’t be...but it was. The sound of a baby crying loudly pierced the foggy morning air.

  “Is that --”

  “Why, that’s a baby crying. Where’s it comin’ from, Sam?”

  Sam’s face registered surprise and a puzzled fear. There wasn’t a house for at least a mile. The baby’s cries grew louder and more insistent. The cries were coming from the river. My lands..there’s a baby down there!

  “Hurry. Bring me my pants and my boots. How in the world -- Hurry Callie!”

  Sam jumped into his pants and boots and headed down the hill toward the river at full speed. The cries grew louder as he approached the canoe, which was half out of the water. Sam grabbed the canoe and pulled it completely onto shore. His eyes widened in shock as reached to scoop up the newborn from the bottom of the canoe. He looked up and down the river thinking that any minute a woman or man would appear to claim the child, but there was none in sight. His mind raced with the possibilities, but none of the scenarios he conjured up were logical, not to mention possible.

  “Shhhh...it’s ok now. You’re safe now. Shhhhh.” He held the baby against his chest and tried to soothe him, but the baby just kept crying. Sam reached inside the canoe and grabbed the plastic bag that the baby had been lying on. Maybe there was a note, a clue, something to tell him where the baby had come from. He would check the bag after he got the baby safely to the house. He never saw Catfish’s name spray-painted down the side; he was just too excited. Callie would know what to do. She wasn’t going to believe this.

  Sam made his way back up the steep hill holding the baby snugly against him with one arm and holding the bag with the other. Callie raced down the deck steps to meet him.

  “It is a baby! Sam, where did it come from?”

  “Beats me. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t be more than a few hours old. Can’t get him to stop crying.”

  “Let me have him.”

  Callie reached and took the baby from Sam’s arms. She pulled the t-shirt away from the baby’s body and noticed the umbilical cord still in place. The baby wailed from being exposed to the cold morning air. She quickly rewrapped the baby and took him inside. Sam followed behind her carrying the bag.

  “I’m going to get a warm blanket. He’s cold, and probably hungry. We need to get him to the hospital where they can check him out and give him some formula.” She had handed the baby to Sam while she went in search of the blanket.

  “Who would put a baby in a canoe and float it down the river? Just doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know. Almost seems like a kid. A runaway, maybe?”

  “But why the river? Why wouldn’t they just leave him on our doorstep?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Get dressed. I’m going to call the Sheriff’s office.”

  Sam picked up the phone to dial 9-1-1, but got no dial tone.

  “The phone’s out. Storm must’ve gotten water in the lines. Let’s just get him to the hospital.”

  While Callie was getting dressed, Sam decided to check out the bag. The baby had finally gone to sleep, exhausted from his ordeal, so Sam tenderly laid him on the couch beside him. He reached inside the tattered bag and pulled out a pair of jeans. He threw them to the floor and reached again. This time he pulled out a tube of crackers
and a can of sausages. Food, but no formula for the baby. This baby’s only a few hours old. Someone gave birth recently. Someone that was on the run.

  The last time he reached into the bag his hand struck something hard wrapped inside more clothing. He pulled the entire bundle out and unwrapped it revealing the gold trimmed walnut box. He breathed a low whistle as he opened the box. There against the silk lining shone the five ancient treasures. He had no idea what he held in his hands, but he was sure that they were old and like nothing he had ever seen. Someone stole these. The mother...she must have been on the run. She’s stolen these.

  “You about ready? We really need to get to get him to the hospital,” Sam asked.

  “I’m ready. You drive. I’ll hold the baby.”

  As the couple made their way toward town, they were amazed to see signs of the destruction the storm had left behind. At first it was just a few twigs and leaves scattered across the road, but a couple of miles farther down the road, they began to see trees with their tops sheared off, sheet metal twisted around their branches, buckets and odd items strewn across the fields.

  “Looks like a tornado came through. I had no idea it got that bad.”

  “No wonder the phone’s out.”

  “Look over there,” Sam pointed to his left where a couple was out in their front yard cutting up a huge tree that had been uprooted. A mile farther down the road Callie exclaimed.

  “Oh...Sam! Someone’s been off the road. Look at the muddy tracks. Look at the ruts!”

  “We’re not the only ones with a story to tell, evidently. I hope they’re all right.”

  When they finally pulled into Perry County Medical Center, the throng of patients in the Emergency Room overwhelmed them. An ambulance was parked by the entrance doors, and the paramedics were preparing to unload a patient. This much activity for the small town facility was rare. Something horrific had happened overnight. And Sam and Callie had slept through it without a thought.