Jonah scooped the item up. It was a wooden shoe, and the clog was intricately painted. It showed a pretty scene with a windmill overlooking a canal. The canal was lined by colorful tulips that extended down and graced the rounded toe with a splash of red.
From where Dan was seated, he could make out words painted on the bottom, but not what they said. “Flip it over, Wiz,” he muttered, his words heavy with foreboding.  It would’ve been nice if things had calmed down for at least a few days. Instead, not only was the storm not letting up, it was picking up.  A sense of dread pierced Dan’s gut as Jonah read aloud:
 Disaster Three.  Water marches on land.
 Inaction leads to more blood on your hands.
Arrows are broken, lessons unlearned. 
Inert responses, power unearned.
Katrina wreaked profound devastation,
 	  The same fate awaits a new coastal nation . . .
	  The Gateway floods when autonomy fails, 
          The torrent erases the Dutch king’s trail.
A violent surge, a breach in the wall,
The House of Orange will crumble and fall.

	While everyone else sat there, stunned into silence, Dan moaned. “The Outcast is going to attack Holland.”  He’d always been fast at piecing things together. The wooden shoe, the windmills, the Dutch king, the coastal nation—it was obvious where the next disaster was going to take place. And Katrina? The storm wasn’t just picking up. It was going to reach fever pitch. 
There definitely wouldn’t be any rest. They had to plan for the largest catastrophe yet—devastation to rival Hurricane Katrina. 


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Jenny Goebel
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