Free Secession: The Storm by Joe Nobody

commanded. “Who knows how long it will be before someone responds?”
     
    The entire team wasted no time digging in, pitching aside concrete blocks and large sections of plasterboard. Zach and one of the troopers put their backs into prying a support beam aside. Other men were using a long section of pipe to leverage debris on the opposite side of the mound.
     
    One of the guardsmen pointed to the far side of the building, “Sergeant, I think we’d have a better angle if we went over there. That water doesn’t look very deep.”
     
    Ford didn’t want anyone wading out into the water, a warning of toxic pollution and unprocessed human waste being passed around to all rescuers just that morning. The team leader glanced at his own hands, already lined with small scratches and cuts from moving the hefty chunks of concrete, realizing the wastewater was a recipe for disaster. “I don’t think risking the water would buy us much,” the big cop said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I want everyone staying high and dry.”
     
    A process soon developed. The men would dig furiously for three or four minutes, and then Ford would whistle a halt. Everyone would remain absolutely still while the NOPD officer would exchange shouted words with the trapped victims.
     
    “Oh, please, sir… save my children,” the progressively weaker voice entreated. “They were already feverish when the building caved in.”
     
    “We’re coming, lady; hang in there.”
     
    About then a large section of wall collapsed, several hundred pounds of brick and drywall just missing two of the men. Rather than retreat, Ford ordered several of his crew to brace the wobbly structure with whatever materials they could salvage from the rubble. Zach expected to be buried alive at any moment.
     
    They put eyes on the woman ten minutes later. Her two preschool-aged children and she were pinned in what had been their kitchen, trapped in a small pocket between an overturned refrigerator and a stout breakfast table.
     
    As they began to dig the mother out in earnest, the firemen arrived. Using crowbars, axes and other equipment, they took to the task while Ford’s team stepped back. The crowd of responders breathed a collective sigh of relief when the first tot was passed up and out of the wreckage.
     
    A Coast Guard helicopter appeared over the scene, circling once and then landing in a nearby parking lot. It wasn’t long before the medics were evaluating all three victims. After a few minutes of frantic activity, Zach watched as the crews began loading the family onto the bird, preparing them for the flight out.
     
    Word got around that one of the kids had some internal bleeding, and the mother suffered a compound fracture, but they all were expected to survive. Several of the firemen approached the law enforcement officers and praised Ford for his team’s good work. Spirits were high all around. In the midst of chaos and mayhem, they had made a difference.
     
    After the rescue crews had cleared, the sergeant’s team mulled around, dusting themselves off, guzzling bottled water, and generally cooling down. Ford allowed his men a 15-minute break and then motioned for them to form up. It was time to get back to work.
     
     

     
    Abe and Charlie were quietly huddling in the kitchen, plotting their next move to get their father to evacuate with them voluntarily. Dad was catching a nap on the couch.
     
    The sudden banging on the front door spiked the brothers’ adrenaline, the shocking racket so loud and unexpected it sounded like a bomb had exploded on the front porch.
     
    Charlie reached for the nearby shotgun as Abe moved to see who would dare be so bold as to splinter the front door. As he passed into the living room, he was surprised to see his father reaching for the deadbolt.
     
    “Who is it?” the elder Hendricks shouted, turning the knob just as Abe screamed for him to stop. It was too late, a large man in a blue uniform pushing