The color of death

Corpus Christi, Texas - Nearly as large as Texas itself, the state he has sentenced, Hurricane Ike spins in his colorful swirl on the television screen, being played over and over on every channel, in slow motion, reverse, no fast forward, enlarge the image, get in close, uh can we have that again? Now live with special team coverage... broadcasting from Galveston, now Houston, now Corpus Christi, that awesome pinwheel of chaos and death. Off the shores of Padre Island in Corpus Christie, Texas, in the late afternoon, the water is warm, and the waves are high, wait what do I see? Surfers on their boogie boards bobbing around in the brown, foamy, salty, mean water. Kids play tag with their bravery and the waves, taunting Ike's waters, then running in retreat as a surge of water attacks them and a reality check sets in ... then they forget the lesson learned, and they taunt the sea once more. Sirens softy off in the distance, steady, then closer, and closer still, just up the beach rescue workers search for four men who fell into the mean water. One is carried to shore on a stretcher, his face bloody, blood dripping onto the padded gurney, he is motionless, quiet, paramedics rush to get him onto a helicopter, people in shorts and flip flops, holding beers, watch as the scene unfolds before them, hoping for the best for him to pull through. Above the mean water flies the orange Coast Guard helicopter, searching for a man believed to be in the water, the crowd is mostly silent, watching the waves and the helicopter makes another pass overhead. Searching for the man in the mean water, the colorful swirl on the television set, the pinwheel of chaos and death. Rod Lamkey Jr. Staff Photographer The Washington Times