The Edge of Tomorrow

 

What it sounded like was as if someone had grabbed the edge of the wind and was shaking it as if it were a large bed sheet, and they were trying to remove the wrinkles.  With each downward flap, the rain hit the house in hard waves.  This was turning out to be a full-fledged storm. 

The moment my phone rang I knew it was going to be a call for a rescue or some emergency, and it was my turn to be on duty.  I took a final sip from my coffee mug and grabbed my coat from the wall hook.  With my free hand I picked up the receiver.  “Hello, this is Sam.” 

My windshield wipers were not keeping up with the force of the pounding rain.  I could barely see the road.  I had a map of the county taped up to the overhead of my pickup and a yellow flashlight on the seat next to me.  My two-way radio had nothing but static coming out of it, and an occasional trucker from Wheeling West Virginia breaking in talking about some bar-b-q recipe.  How he was coming over my radio I didn’t know.

It was always my intent to keep a full tank, but glancing down at my gauge it showed it was down to a quarter.  This wasn’t good at all.  What had been festering in the back of my mind was the condition of the batteries in my flashlight, but now the fear of running out of gas took over my thoughts.  Some rescuer I turned out to be.

 I was coming to the part of Route 18 that was no longer paved, and they’d be a noticeable absence of streetlights.  As I got higher in elevation the rain was turning into a combination of freezing rain and snow.  My tires usually did fine in snow, but I could do without the ice.

more later