THe OLD MeRCeDeS shuddered over the muddy washboard, clinging
to the levee s spine. Wind lashed the willows and cottonwoods on both
sides, and thunder rolled out over land that spread low and wild and
rank toward the Gulf of Mexico. Michael Duran gripped the wheel,
braking, staring into the curtain of water. He was oppressed by the
closeness of the air that made even breathing a kind of work. Here
firm ground seemed an affront to nature. Rain enhanced the flood of
the Mississippi, free at last after a thousand miles of levees, pushing
its fingers out through aeons of accumulated silt to join with the sea.
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