"Who's the man who died?"
"Sam Zehedi, Z-E-H-E-D-I, I think it goes. A grocer, about thirty. We were holed up in a filling station on State Highway 7, just two carloads of people who couldn't get through the flood. The sick man is, I'm sorry to say, my very dear friend Henry Starkman, the Burgess of Hebertown. In the morning when we realized he had pneumonia we carried him about twelve miles into town. He's in that improvised hospital they have there. When I saw him last his condition was poor. He is about sixty-five. He was in my car when we got stopped; we were looking at conditions and making plans. On a small scale, what Mr. Akslund is here for." Cue to Sharon!
Sharon said to the congressman, "The networks are probably trying to get mobile broadcasting units in right now. They should be set up and sending by midnight. By morning they'll have all they need to lead the disaster strong in the breakfast newscasts."
It was a reminder that they had better get down to brass tacks on a concrete proposal for relief and reconstruction. Dramatically issued from the site of the flood, it would be unbeatable.
They were rolling slowly into Hebertown proper.
Artie said to the driver, "Drive around for a while."
"Yes," said Akslund. "Show me everything."
Sharon added: "Drop me off at the school. I'll get the police chief to find a room for us somehow. We'll have work to do."
"Lots of it," Akslund said thoughtfully, looking through the window at the wreckage.