Waiting for the Crest

By Mary Maxie

2013 saw the once-in-a-lifetime flood of epic proportions in Calgary, Alberta Canada. The flooding occurred with a ‘perfect storm’ of events, which saw spring run off from the Rocky Mountains west of the city, coincide with heavy rains. The city is bisected by two large rivers, the Bow and the Elbow, and one or both rivers also run through Banff, Canmore, Bragg Creek, Cochrane and Exshaw. High River was flooded by the Sheep River. The crest of a flood is the high water mark, and once the crest is reached, flood water begins to recede.

The twenty-six stories here are representational and fictional, but are meant to show the emotions, frustrations, depression suffering, bravery, and thoughts of a variety of people affected by the widespread devastation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Maxie
• Release date: Sep 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301552733

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Waiting for the Crest

Mary Maxie

A Durragraphix Inc book

Waiting For The Crest

Copyright © 2013 by Mary Maxie

First E-book Publication: September 2013

Cover design by Galileo Productions.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHED by Durragraphix Inc at Smashwords.

PO Box 1146, Phoenix AZ 85022

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of Waiting For The Crest by Mary Maxie, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Mary Maxie’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Maxie’s right to earn a living from her work.

Dedicated to Family, who indulge my writing, without understanding it or making judgments on the inner workings of my mind, and the Ladies who Lunch.

Acknowledgements

Valley of the Sun Romance Writers of America, and those who shared stories and memories of the flood with me.

Chapter 1

Amy was beyond exhausted. Yet there would be little or no sleep for her again tonight, as she laid on a narrow cot, under a clean but musty smelling blanket, a flat pillow beneath her head.

She had made the decision to evacuate her little bungalow two nights ago, and thoughts of what she might find when the emergency crews finally allowed people to return home, swirled through her head. Apparently those same thoughts also bothered the thousand or so bedmates around her in the school gym that had been commandeered for the duration of the flood.

There was a soft instrumental accompaniment around her, of violin bows hitting strings, plucking noises of people’s heads hitting pillows.

Then there was the bass snoring, the baritone mumbling, the tenor wheezing, the alto snuffling, the second soprano whining, first soprano crying. All this was joined by a children’s chorus of babies crying, children waking with bad dreams, all patiently being soothed by worried half lullabies and whispered encouragement. There were even a few frayed and frazzled parents telling kids to ‘shut up’. Didn’t they realize that even the kids’ nerves were on edge too?

Amy had been to Phoenix Arizona many times on golf holidays before Jimmy passed away. They’d fly down on a non-stop flight that only took about three hours, and soon they’d be basking in the warmth of 85 degrees in their rented condo. Jimmy would be on their laptop, busily making reservations for golf games for their days in the sun. It was a game with him to try and hit as many different courses as possible each trip.

They tried to avoid the rainy season in December and January, because, after all, they were escaping the below freezing temperatures of Southern Alberta to have a mid-winter break, so that purpose would be defeated if it was raining.

However, many roads had dips in them every half mile or so, that were deemed as flash flood areas. When it finally did rain for about two weeks out of every year, the sudden rains would cause flooding that was so heavy that it could sweep a car away in an instant if you tried to drive through one of those washes. The Sheriff’s department would come out and rescue one or two people from the tops of their cars every year, charge them for the helicopter ride, and hand them a hefty fine for ignoring the signs saying to stay out of the washes. But there was always some fool who thought if he gunned the motor, he could barrel on through the wall of water.

Amy wondered how they could channel the water so precisely to travel only in the washes, not inundate the whole area.

Little did she know on those halcyon days in the Valley of the Sun, that an industrial accident would take her Jimmy away from her, and his and her golf clubs would be hidden away in the back of the storage area behind their suitcases.

The shuffling, shifting noises were dying down now, but she didn’t think she could sleep, so she softly slipped out or bed, grabbed her sneakers and padded down the rows of people to the door of the gym. She felt like she was playing hooky from school as she cautiously made her way out the door, donned her shoes and jacket and went outside.

She stood under the canopy where kids stood every day, waiting to be picked up by parents, and looked up at the cloudy sky. She knew it was cloudy because there were no stars. Out here in High River, which had been hit so suddenly with a massive wall of water just two nights ago, you could see forever in the heavens when it was clear because the town of about fifteen thousand didn’t give off the ambient light like the city did. In Calgary, just a few miles away, there were so many street lights, neon signage, and big buildings that wasted energy by keeping their office lights on all night, that the stars were never as bright or beautiful as out here.

It was normally very quiet at night out here too. Now, the faint roar of the river out of control, sweeping everything from trees to small dead animals, discarded toys & anything left in its path, could be heard even though they were far away from its destructive path. Distant sirens and the steady rain also added to the symphony.

Now why did she keep comparing all the sounds to music? Music was balm for the soul, especially Amy’s soul, but this discordant noise couldn’t remotely qualify as balm. It was agitating, and upsetting, that was all.

The smells were getting to her too. The dampness of clothing and bodies denied their daily showers, that couldn’t be dried because of all the unaccustomed humidity in the air, hooked up with the earthy smells of grass, trees, and just plain dirt everywhere. How would they ever manage to feel clean and dry again?

Amy knew she should be happy that she was alive and safe from the water that just kept coming and coming, but every time she thought about what was going to happen when the flood waters retreated, she got physically sick.

Calgary and area was affluent, free-spending and happy-go-lucky, most of the time. There was oil in ‘them thar hills’, and had been since the first gusher came in back in 1913. Oil had been the mainstay of the Calgary and area economy, supplemented by ranching, high tech, and big business. Salaries were astronomical, and if you were also invested in oil stocks, you were likely very well off. Millionaires were made every day, with each new discovery of oil, or each new invention that the oil patch could utilize to bring more black gold to the surface.

Amy had no doubt that the oil money would be plentiful to help people repair damage and get the vibrant city back on its feet. But would they help little people like Amy, a hairdresser in a small town, with a big mortgage on her little house, and no job to go back to because the downtown was damaged beyond repair for now? Amy doubted that very much.

As yet another helicopter thwupped overhead, Amy knew that it was likely another news crew or maybe even the Prime Minister who had been touring the hard hit areas all day. Did they think night time photos were going to show anything different than day time photos?

She shivered as she thought of the hurried packing, making sure she had all her photos and mementoes in her car, and then taking off with water licking at the axles of her wheels. It was just like in the movies when a flash flood of swiftly moving water came boiling down the street behind her. She had been so scared that she wouldn’t get away in time, that her heart was pounding and her breath came in short gasps. She had just barely made it out of her neighborhood, joining a convoy of cars and trucks to make her way to the school a few miles away.

She had her iPad, and everyone who had one or a laptop computer, spent hours each day looking at the devastation around them. Over one hundred thousand people had been evacuated, none of them knowing what they would return to. The news media of the world was having a field day with new photos every hour or so. Now the news hounds were down to trying to interview people asking ‘How do you feel about…."

How do they think we feel? We’re homeless, away from our friends and family and all that’s familiar. We’re trying to sleep with so many people, exchanging snippets