Saturday, February 21, 2015



In the days before, during, and after the flooding of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans there was a serial killer on the loose and looking for a certain female that got away. Paramedic Evan Pelicano's true accounts of the storm are weaved into this tale of survival while saddled with the sixteen year old daughter of his slain friend Officer Jeremy Scarlet. At first, the paramedics and police officers navigate the floodwater trying to save residents, but then Evan finds he needs to save himself as well as protect his friend's daughter from the killer among them, all the while determined to reunite with his girlfriend, the Chief Deputy Coroner of New Orleans.


Evan led the charge through the back door and into the damp, humid night, following large stone steps to the rusting aluminum shed. Mosquitoes sucked to their skin as loud chirping crickets played in concert from the trees.

“Hello?” Evan put his ear to the sliding door while pointing his small emergency flashlight. “Angela, it’s Mr. Evan—The Pel. Are you in there?”

Woven into the normal backyard sounds was a faint bump. He raised his eyebrows at Andrew, and then slowly opened the right side door, scraping metal on metal. The beam of light hit the back wall, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. He peeked inside, smelling oil and seeing a lawn mower within arm’s reach.

“Angela?” He heard breathing and the hair lifted off his neck. “Angela, it’s me… Pel. You’re okay.”

A sniff came from within the shadows, and he pointed his flashlight at a human form crouching under hanging yard tools. Relief unlocked his knees. “Can you come out? It’s all over.”

She didn’t move. Her eyes stared forward.

Evan knelt in the small space and touched her hand. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes flashed up, like a doll with weighted eyelids. “Mr. Evan?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Can you stand? Let’s get out of the shed.”

He took her hands and eased her out until they were on the grass, spotting a large welt on her cheek where dried blood had caked on split skin. She registered Evan’s face and with arms like an octopus, grabbed him and buried her face into his chest.

“It’s okay. It’s all over. You’re safe.”

“I’ll go get that detective,” Andrew said.

Evan rubbed her back as she embedded herself. She was five feet four with flowing brown hair, wearing only panties and a half-shirt, obviously having awakened in the most horrible way. “No one is going to hurt you.”

Through her sobs, he heard her speak. “I think I was raped.”

“You think? You don’t remember?”

Her face remained buried as she cried the words. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything, but… it hurts. Where’s my mom and dad?”

Several voices grew louder as the detective and the Forensics guy shot out of the house, stopping short when they realized there was nothing to do.

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