The Evacuation

Beulah was right. The rain started about 30 minutes into the drive. it was pouring. Beulah put the umbrella thing so that my windshield was sheltered, but I could still see. We hadn't even made it to the interstate yet. Both of the shoulders of the road were flooded over. "This is the worst one I've seen in years," said Beulah, her eyes glued to the window. It was starting to get bad. The truck was rocking a little, and I could hear all the dirt and rocks that were hitting the truck. it's getting scarier. Beulah had brought a little red handheld radio. It looked ancient. It had a dial for the tuner, and it had a little metal antenna that extended to the length of my arm. She had it tuned to the weather channel. The weatherman sounded so calm, considering he was talking about a life threatening hurricane. "We've been tracking this storm for the past 3 hours, and it shows no signs of slowing down. Hurricane Wilda is expected to be reaching speeds of at least 108 miles per hour. You're going to want to stay inside, and maybe even take shelter," he said, "Hurricane Wilda is past Atlanta, Georgia and is heading northwest." Beulah turned off the radio, and put it in the glove box. She looked sad. "Don't worry, we'll be safe," I said, trying to cheer her up. Beulah sighed and said, "I know we'll be safe, dear. It's my son that I'm worried about. I have no clue where he is." She didn't look away from her window. I didn't have any clue how to respond to that. Then, it happened. I lost control. I was busy looking at Beulah, and I didn't realize the road had flooded over, and I was going way too fast. A gust of wind hit the truck hard, and we strayed to the left. We were starting to face the right side of the road, and I turned the wheel all the way to the left. The truck swerved off the road, and we flipped.