‘Get some more sandbags over here on the northwest side! It’s starting to give!’ Covered in full plastic flood-gear from head to toe, Nicholas nodded to the man who was holding the bullhorn and scrambled to take his new place in the relay line. Torrential rains fell down from the heavens, making it seem as though God Himself had emerged from a long, leisurely bath before pulling the plug on His celestial bathtub without so much as second thought for the insignificant human insects darting around below. Rivers of storm-propelled water streamed into Nicholas’s eyes and made it difficult to see. Lightning zipped across the pitch-black sky and fought for dominance with the pounding thunder. The sticky brown mud beneath his feet threatened to suck off his boots with each slow, plodding step he took. Nicholas twisted at his aching hips and took the forty-pound sandbag from his fellow volunteer who was stationed on his left before twisting at his hips again to hand it off to the portly man on his right. Twist, hand off, repeat. On and on this went for what seemed an eternity, until Nicholas’s back had been turned into a pretzel, until the muscles in his arms sang with exquisite pain. But what else could they do? Stop? Wasn’t an option now with the Montgomery Point Lock & Dam this close to bursting.
