She was on a fool’s errand, she knew that, had known it when she set off. She could feel Mama was gone. Of course, she couldn’t tell Missy that. And yet here she was, in the open, under the eye of a hurricane. And for what? To confirm what she knew already, what the collapsed roof of Doc’s office told her when she finally arrived? There might be someone alive under the massive pile of jagged timbers, but she figured the chances weren’t good. She forced herself to move faster through the water, heading back in the direction of the station. The others would be safely inside the boxcars by now, whose enormous weight should stand up to whatever the storm still had to throw at them. Unseen objects brushed her legs. Some were soft. She closed her mind to what they might be. A dead raccoon floated by, its clever paws curled over its face, finally overcome by the element it craved. Out of nowhere, a very much alive cottonmouth snake sped toward her across the water, its white jaws glowing in the darkness, opened wide to strike.
