At shortly after ten o'clock p.m., James flashed his Mother's Red Cross arm banner at a man directing traffic, smiled, and then fell in behind the fifteen-truck Spokane convoy. The back of the pickup was fully loaded with jugs of water, day old bread, canned goods and blankets donated by people in Preston. Darkness hid the devastation and the previous trucks bounced back and forth on the broken pavement. Nevertheless, the convoy followed the Auburn Echo cut off to Highway 169, then turned north toward Renton.

At the first of two bridges over the Cedar River, the trucks stopped. Men in Army uniforms cautiously waved the trucks forward, allowing only one at a time to drive across the bridge. But none paid attention to James and Heather in the small pickup. As soon as they were past, James took a deep breath. "That's finished. Good." Then the convoy slowed again.

Inch by inch, the truck eased through free standing water, which made Heather nervous, "Why is there water everywhere?"

"Maybe the river changed course."

"Oh. Are we gonna sink?"

James turned an incredulous glare on his sister, then he suddenly smiled, "That's right, you can't swim."

Soon, they were back on dry land, but in less than half an hour, the convoy stopped. All along the side of the road, tents with blaring lights housed duty minded men in uniform. James waited, moved up each time the line moved, and waited some more. Finally, the last truck in the convoy pulled away.