Dark Water Rising: Chapters 18–29

I left the boys sleeping on their pallets, eased down the stairs, and found him in the kitchen with Ezra and Josiah, sitting around a breakfast of soda crackers and water.

“The temporary morgues filled quickly yesterday. Identifying and burying all the bodies seems nigh impossible now.”

The provisions left in markets and warehouses will be rationed.

My stomach reeled to the brink of upheaval every time I gazed into another swollen, distorted face, making me wonder if we could possibly recognize our own people should we happen upon them.

A troop of men, white and colored alike, were driven into the shed by bayonet to assist in the work of loading the dead on barges tied up near the morgue.

A troop of men, white and colored alike, were driven into the shed by bayonet to assist in the work of loading the dead on barges tied up near the morgue.

While we hurriedly searched for anything recognizable among the bodies, the men began their grisly work.

The thought of Ben and Uncle Nate lying there amidst so much putrefaction was unbearable.

Josiah glanced over his shoulder at all the men carrying their ghastly burdens to the barge.

If he hadn’t so willingly shirked his duty to family and home, Josiah might be with his grandfather instead of loading barges with unspeakable cargo and heading to the gulf.

I slid a board into place near the corner of the roof and nailed it to the rafters, but I couldn’t get Ezra off my mind.

Aunt Julia had searched the names intently while we talked, then folded the paper and stuffed it in her apron pocket.

Aunt Julia’s eyes glistened with tears when Mama and I told her what was taking place all over the city, but she quickly gained her composure and dried her eyes.

Ezra had been right in his assessment of her.

Before long, I heard the ladder rattle against the eaves. Without a word, Josiah joined me on the dark roof, where we sat like ghosts, watching Galveston burn its dead.

To our amazement, Archer, Uncle Nate’s horse, ambled into the yard that evening, too.

They hauled scrap lumber into the ash tree’s bare limbs and hammered with such gusto even Aunt Julia and Ella Rose had to smile.

His eyes were red and his mood surly.

He’d appraise my work, and I didn’t want to even think about what would happen if I didn’t measure up.

“Thinking we might need to spread out just a bit, see if we can scrounge up more lumber—a lot more.”

When Matt got home, he surprised us by rigging the sled to Archer and marshaling the boys into the job.

In the next day’s paper, I read, “It is possible, but highly improbable, that the list of storm victims will aggregate six thousand souls.”

Words dwindled, no longer needed, and the hot hours passed without notice.

She hiked her skirt immodestly high and ran down the steps and out into the road.

Or maybe it was losing all he owned that had humbled him.

I thought of Zach’s quiet, abiding strength, the way Josiah and I had plumbed our own depths, tapped our own strengths, and the flutter settled.

I thought of Zach’s quiet, abiding strength, the way Josiah and I had plumbed our own depths, tapped our own strengths, and the flutter settled.

With another meal of canned salmon staring us in the face, sentimentality didn’t stand a chance.

After last night, I was afraid she might be thinking of me as the brother she never had. If so, I wasn’t sure a notion like that could be changed.

But even that grim worry couldn’t mar the day for long.

Wagons and buggies now rumbled along many streets without hindrance, and trains puffed into the city daily with carloads of supplies and workers.

The searing smoke rarely darkened the sky during the day anymore, nor did it block the millions of stars at night.

The city gathered around Thanksgiving tables, and moved on to trim Christmas trees and sing carols, but every eye reflected pain. The deepest wounds, the ones unseen, still festered.

There’d been no graves for her to visit, no final words and prayers, and especially no solace from knowing how life had ended for her husband and son.

I asked blessings for the girl in blue gingham, the twin boys, the woman and the sad lost man who helped bury her, and the countless souls finally given up to funeral pyres.