“IT’S GONE. THE WHOLE THING’S GONE,” BOBBY said in astonished disbelief as he stared at what was left of the Kentucky Dam.
Lauren thought her grandson was going to burst into tears. She almost did herself, but didn’t want him to see her sobbing. They’d arrived in Benton a few minutes earlier and had driven straight to the lake. The small town was in shambles, but the damage there was nothing compared with this.
The huge steel gates and the high wall of concrete and crushed rock that supported the elevated highway had been washed away. The lock and dam on the far shore were completely inundated. The powerhouse had disappeared. It was as if the dam had never existed. The water in the lake was flowing straight into the Tennessee River.
The water level had dropped about forty feet, but the lake surface was still turbulent. The swells were running two and three feet with whitecaps.
Lauren drove down the gravel road to their boat dock and marina. Anticipating the worst, she still wasn’t prepared for what she found.
The dock was gone, vanished.
She got out of the car and walked closer to the lake. She saw the blue roof of the restaurant about thirty yards out in the water. Attached by cables to the shore, it had been pulled into the lake when the water level plunged. The pier and boat slips had disappeared.
Bobby put his arm around her waist. They held each other, not speaking, staring dumbly at the sunken restaurant and dock. Everything they’d worked for, the sixteen-hour days, her savings. It was all underwater. Their insurance wouldn’t come near paying for the loss.
Staring at the wreckage a few minutes longer, Lauren took the boy by the hand and walked back to the car.
“We’re going home,” she said. Maybe she could think there, figure out what they’d have to do to survive and how she could find out about her parents, whether they were still alive. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lie down and let sleep come.
Lauren finally felt the emotional release. Living through all this wasn’t easy. She whispered a quick prayer of thanksgiving to God for sparing Bobby. She’d lost her son, daughter-in-law, and husband, and didn’t want to lose her grandson. She couldn’t begin to think about how she’d survive if something happened to him. So far, they’d been incredibly lucky. If she found their home smashed to pieces, it wouldn’t matter.
On the way home, she stopped at Goode’s Convenience Store. It was just off Route 641 near the western side of the lake.
The front windows and the glass door were shattered.
Elizabeth knew Vern Goode and his wife, Gloria. Vern also had a gun-and-ammo business and did a brisk trade during the hunting season. The metal, prefab building had two sections—one for the convenience store, the other for the gun shop.
Lauren told Bobby to stay put. She slipped Lou Hessel’s .357 magnum into a jacket pocket. She didn’t like the feel of the place.
“Vern,” she shouted, gripping the heavy pistol in her pocket. “You hear me, Vern?”
No one answered, so she stepped inside the convenience store. The exterior of the one-story building was in fairly good shape. The walls were bowed out slightly, but that was about all. It was different inside. Shelves were knocked down, and part of the ceiling had fallen. The light fixtures dangled from wires. Almost all of the merchandise was missing—canned food, soft drinks, bread, milk, liquor.
She walked next door to the gun shop. The door hung open on broken hinges.
“Vern, it’s Lauren Mitchell,” she called.
She slowly stepped inside. The gun cases were smashed. Everything in the shop had been removed—the rifles and shotguns that had stood in racks behind the front counter; the boxes of ammo; the pistols that had been displayed in glass cases. The cash register.
She took a couple of steps and stopped. She was standing in something sticky. It was dark in the narrow store. Lauren opened a window blind and in the thin light saw a dark stain that had spread out on the floor from behind one of the counters.
“Vern!” she shouted. “Gloria. Anybody here? Please come on out. It’s Lauren.”
She moved toward the counter, one cautious step at a time. The black stain looked like a puddle of motor oil.
Lauren peered around the counter. Vern Goode and his wife lay face-up on the floor. Both had been shot in the head.
Lauren leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
Someone had killed them for the guns and ammunition. Lauren didn’t doubt it for a minute. A weapon was worth its weight in gold now.
She wondered how long they’d been dead. She wanted to bury them and look for the daughter, but there wasn’t time. It was getting late in the day, and she wanted to be back at her home before the sun went down.
If there was trouble, it would come in the dark.