Secession: The Storm Read Online Free PDF

elevated perch allowed a vantage. Many of the streets were filled with the glimmer of an amber lunar glow - a reflection on the standing water.
     
    Charlie pointed to the south, indicating the section of the city where their father lived. “Looks like we might be in luck,” he whispered. “The flooding doesn’t seem so bad over there.”
     
    Abe nodded, wondering if they’d made the treacherous journey without cause. “Let’s go see. Maybe the old man has cold beer in the fridge.”
     
    After double-checking the boat was well tied and concealed by thick underbrush, the two men hefted their gear and set off on foot.
     
    The angle made hiking halfway down the city side of the levee’s sloping surface difficult, but Abe wanted to avoid silhouetting themselves on the peak as well as escape the water at the bottom. The earth was soggy, both men adding a layer of boot-mud to their burden.
     
    The pavement below gradually became drier, and after several blocks, they descended to the nearest sidewalk. Abe spotted high-water marks on several of the buildings they passed. A damp, moldy smell permeated the air, accented by the occasional whiff of raw sewage. The blackness of the night, absence of traffic, foul odor, and complete lack of human occupation provoked a sense of foreboding in both men. Their childhood neighborhood seemed dead and abandoned – a modern ghost town of immense proportions.
     
    The men were less than four blocks away from their father’s home when shots rang out. Sensing instantly that the gunfire was a considerable distance away, both men reached quickly for their pistols. When the wavering sounds of human screaming reached their ears, Abe uncased his rifle and began ramming shells into the magazine.
     
    Finally, they stood in front of Mr. Edward Hendricks’s humble abode. The two-story, quaint Victorian with a full-width front porch and white picket fence appeared undisturbed in the moonlight, the vision giving relief to both men.
     
    “We’d better knock and yell,” Charlie noted. “The old man’s probably on edge and might take a shot at us.”
     
    “Be my guest,” Abe smiled, motioning with a hand through the air.
     
    Were it not for the nightmarish surroundings, Abe would have smirked at his brother’s cautious approach. Stalking slowly up the front walk and gingerly mounting the stairs leading to the porch, Charlie positioned his body to the side of the door before knocking.
     
    After banging three times on the frame, Charlie’s voice rang out, “Dad? Dad? It’s Abe and me. We’ve come to make sure you’re okay.”
     
    In the quiet, seemingly unoccupied neighborhood, the sound of his brother’s voice startled Abe. Compared to the noiseless background, the racket Charlie was making seemed like a riot. Abe began nervously scanning the area, checking to see if anyone had taken notice of their arrival.
     
    In the otherwise still night, Charlie repeated his clamorous greeting, sending another jolt of hysteria through his brother.
     
    Abe spied a sliver of a flashlight’s beam pass by one of the curtains, soon followed by a challenge from behind the door. “The hell you say,” bellowed the senior Hendricks’s grouchy voice. “My boys are up north. Now who the hell are you?”
     
    A few minutes later, the three men were clustered on the veranda, hugs and relief all around. With emotion in his eyes, Mr. Hendricks’s only words were, “Am I glad to see both of you.”
     

     
    Zach’s drive to New Orleans was a nerve racking, 16-hour adventure that exposed the Texan to the chilling cocktail of fear, paranoia, and near-anarchy that gripped Louisiana. He’d been forced to show his badge and credentials no less than six times. On half of those occasions, the letter of introduction from the governor of Texas had been required for passage. At one roadblock, an officer had gone so far as to call Austin to authenticate his documentation.
     
    But it was more than overly