Flood victims use respite to salvage what they can

. -- Before the skies darken and rain returns to this soaked corner of the heartland, people are scrambling to salvage what they can.

Thunderstorms are predicted to hit this blue-collar Missouri town of not quite 2,000 by today. It’s a frightening forecast, after a foot or more of rain fell last week across parts of the Midwest, triggering floods in Missouri that left five people dead, submerged rural towns and swept residents away as they tried to flee.

Nearly a third of Piedmont -- and all but one shop along downtown’s Main Street -- was flooded. Tons of soil flowed out of McKenzie Creek, an angry dark morass that swallowed everything in its way: pet carriers and medical files, city plows and entire homes.

It’s not over: National Weather Service meteorologists warned that last week’s floods were just a preview of what promises to be a spring filled with record-breaking rainfall and some of the worst flooding the central part of the country has seen in decades.

On Tuesday, the rising floodwaters moved downriver, straining levees in northern and central Arkansas. And forecasts of more rain landed hard in this town nestled in the Ozark foothills, where the number of retirees is double the national average, and of those residents old enough to hold a job, more than half are unemployed.

Construction crews in Piedmont used the Tuesday respite to repair the sewer system. The town’s water supply is back, though it will be at least a week before water can be drunk without boiling it first.

When residents took a break from drying out sodden carpets and wet shotguns, they nervously wondered if this was the beginning of the biggest flood season since 1993.

Those were the most costly and devastating floods to ravage the central United States in modern history, according to Patrick Slattery, a spokesman for the National Weather Service’s central region headquarters in Kansas City. For months, floodwaters swirled across the Midwest and the Plains, causing 48 deaths and $26.7 billion in damage. Agriculture levees crumbled. Farmland and transportation routes were destroyed. Thousands were forced from their homes.

“Everyone in Piedmont is freaked about what’s coming,” said Wanda Patton, who manages the Stone Crest Motel, where locals had been using its pool’s chlorinated water to bathe and wash dishes. “Everyone I know is scared.”

Kathy Greer and boyfriend William Maxwell moved into their home several years ago, drawn by the area’s rolling hills and rural friendliness. It was safe here, Greer said, nearly 130 miles south of the bustle of St. Louis.

But with the spring rains, McKenzie Creek rises fast and thick and dark. So does the Black River south of town, which the creek feeds into.

“We’ve had three 100-year floods in the last quarter century or so,” said Lynn Charlton, 79, a retired head carpenter with the Army Corps of Engineers. “Each one has been getting worse. I live about a quarter mile from the creek, and I found a catfish flopping around in my backyard.”

Locals had never seen so much water rise -- and so fast -- as they did March 18. It was just days before Easter, when the downtown shops were decorated with pastel-hued paper eggs.

Phone lines went dead. Deeply buried water pipes broke. The town’s main sewage line cracked, leaking bacteria and wastewater into the soil.

“I barely had time to grab my 2-year-old grandson and run for the door,” Greer said. “It went from ankle-high to waist-high in less than a minute.”

She and her boyfriend returned to find their home in shambles. By Tuesday afternoon, the family’s race to stay ahead of the weather had unearthed a few dear items: A sky-blue comforter. A fancy halter-top dress. A trio of shotguns.

Across town, mud clung beneath the ragged fingernails of Suzanne Galla’s hands and stained her tired arms and legs. But she didn’t notice the dirt as she and her husband filled their car with another load of sodden family treasures.

Even after a week, mud was everywhere. It soiled their photo albums. Caked onto her grandmother’s cedar chest. Smeared into her daughter’s christening gown.

“I can’t believe so much is gone,” said Galla, 41, after spending hours digging through the muck-filled remains of her home. “And I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse.”

Throughout town, calls for unity and hints of humor tried to lighten the mood. Clearwater Elementary School put the message “word of the month: perseverance” on its marquee. Down the street, someone piled muddy and molding kitchen cabinets on a street corner in front of a spray-painted sign that read “free.”

After all, say the locals, their personal losses could be so much worse.

Off to the west, in nearby Ellington, mourners buried Walter Baker, 81, who was trying to clear debris near his home when the flood currents reportedly dragged him away.

Then there’s the Faith Family Worship Center, in downtown Piedmont. The one-story brick Pentecostal church, built steps from McKenzie Creek, has flooded nine times since its first service was held in 1973, said Pastor Wayne Street.

It couldn’t survive the 10th. Volunteers had just repaired damage from a 2006 flood and put the final touches to the sunshine-yellow paint in a new nursery.

This time, the repairs were too severe: An unearthed oak slammed through the church’s cream-colored front doors, and an abandoned SUV was pushed through a wall.

The church had a flood insurance policy. But when Street called to file a claim last week, the agent told him that he’d forgotten to pay the premium.

Street later found the paperwork, tucked into a family Bible in a pool of mud in his church office. He broke the news to 60 parishioners at the end of his Easter sermon. Some silently left, stunned. Others tried to comfort Street, telling him everyone makes mistakes.

“All we can do now is pray for a miracle and move to higher ground,” Street said.

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p.j.huffstutter@latimes.com