Storm Front Read Online Free Page B
Author: Robert Conroy
the face. He looked up at the glowering clouds. They seemed so low he thought he could reach up and grab them. For an idiotic moment, he almost did, but checked himself. I don’t need this, he thought. Not today.
CHAPTER 3
The city of Sheridan was laid out in what looked a neat rectangle when shown on a map or on Google Earth. It ran two miles north-south and three miles east-west. A spur of Interstate 75 ran east-west along its southern border and carried increasingly heavy traffic into the rapidly growing suburbs. Much of that traffic was dumped north into Sheridan, where people either found homes or drove farther north to still other suburbs. Eighty thousand people, many of them affluent, lived in Sheridan’s new subdivisions. Despite economic downturns, the population had tripled in the last twenty years. While there were pockets of poverty and a number of just plain average people, the norm was a large new house on a large lot, or a large house on a disproportionately small lot. For many of Sheridan’s residents, these were trophy homes and they were willing to put up with long and inconvenient rides to and from work for the privilege of living in a quiet and safe place like Sheridan. There were a fair number of vacant houses because of the mortgage crises and a lot of homeowners were what the banks cutely called “underwater.” They owed more than their homes were worth on the market. Some of these people were as depressed as their property values, especially those who wanted to sell their houses so they could move elsewhere.
The last census showed that ninety-seven percent of the population was white, and two percent was Asian. Blacks and other minorities constituted the remaining one percent. Comedians called Sheridan a white ghetto, and a minister in Detroit called Sheridan segregated, but neither comment upset the residents very much. This was their new home and they liked it this way and many didn’t care if their homes were underwater. Sooner or later the ship would right itself.
Although considered a new suburb by those who were just discovering it, Sheridan had begun as a village in 1830. It was originally a farming community founded by Moravian Germans, whose descendants, until recently, exercised considerable influence in the community. What was now the center of the town had been little more than a disorganized trading post until after the Civil War, when the village leaders decided to name the place after General Philip Sheridan.
Sheridan’s population and growth remained flat, even stagnant, until World War II when the whole area industrialized. Later, when the war ended and people began moving from the cramped core cities like Detroit, suburbs began to grow and prosper. Still, it took decades for that growth to reach Sheridan. Many of the older families resented the newcomers, but accepted the inevitable. The newcomers now vastly outnumbered the old-timers. Providing some relief was the fact that the new people brought wealth when they bought the under-producing farmlands for houses and shopping. Of course, many of the newly rich farmers left Sheridan and moved to Florida with their booty.
The only decent north-south road was MacArthur Highway. With six lanes divided by a center median, it was the main connection with the freeway for the town. The other roads in the city were your garden variety four- and five-lane roads long overdue for expansion and improvement. MacArthur Highway was also overdue for some more lanes. Mike Stuart wasn’t certain he liked that idea. Traffic on MacArthur ran far too fast already, and more lanes would just make it an urban speedway. The city had several movie theaters, a number of restaurants and one good-sized shopping center at the confluence of the interstate and MacArthur. It housed a Macy’s, a Sears, Saks, and about two hundred specialty stores connecting the anchors in a covered mall. A smaller strip mall held a Wal-Mart and a local chain store,
CHAPTER 3
The city of Sheridan was laid out in what looked a neat rectangle when shown on a map or on Google Earth. It ran two miles north-south and three miles east-west. A spur of Interstate 75 ran east-west along its southern border and carried increasingly heavy traffic into the rapidly growing suburbs. Much of that traffic was dumped north into Sheridan, where people either found homes or drove farther north to still other suburbs. Eighty thousand people, many of them affluent, lived in Sheridan’s new subdivisions. Despite economic downturns, the population had tripled in the last twenty years. While there were pockets of poverty and a number of just plain average people, the norm was a large new house on a large lot, or a large house on a disproportionately small lot. For many of Sheridan’s residents, these were trophy homes and they were willing to put up with long and inconvenient rides to and from work for the privilege of living in a quiet and safe place like Sheridan. There were a fair number of vacant houses because of the mortgage crises and a lot of homeowners were what the banks cutely called “underwater.” They owed more than their homes were worth on the market. Some of these people were as depressed as their property values, especially those who wanted to sell their houses so they could move elsewhere.
The last census showed that ninety-seven percent of the population was white, and two percent was Asian. Blacks and other minorities constituted the remaining one percent. Comedians called Sheridan a white ghetto, and a minister in Detroit called Sheridan segregated, but neither comment upset the residents very much. This was their new home and they liked it this way and many didn’t care if their homes were underwater. Sooner or later the ship would right itself.
Although considered a new suburb by those who were just discovering it, Sheridan had begun as a village in 1830. It was originally a farming community founded by Moravian Germans, whose descendants, until recently, exercised considerable influence in the community. What was now the center of the town had been little more than a disorganized trading post until after the Civil War, when the village leaders decided to name the place after General Philip Sheridan.
Sheridan’s population and growth remained flat, even stagnant, until World War II when the whole area industrialized. Later, when the war ended and people began moving from the cramped core cities like Detroit, suburbs began to grow and prosper. Still, it took decades for that growth to reach Sheridan. Many of the older families resented the newcomers, but accepted the inevitable. The newcomers now vastly outnumbered the old-timers. Providing some relief was the fact that the new people brought wealth when they bought the under-producing farmlands for houses and shopping. Of course, many of the newly rich farmers left Sheridan and moved to Florida with their booty.
The only decent north-south road was MacArthur Highway. With six lanes divided by a center median, it was the main connection with the freeway for the town. The other roads in the city were your garden variety four- and five-lane roads long overdue for expansion and improvement. MacArthur Highway was also overdue for some more lanes. Mike Stuart wasn’t certain he liked that idea. Traffic on MacArthur ran far too fast already, and more lanes would just make it an urban speedway. The city had several movie theaters, a number of restaurants and one good-sized shopping center at the confluence of the interstate and MacArthur. It housed a Macy’s, a Sears, Saks, and about two hundred specialty stores connecting the anchors in a covered mall. A smaller strip mall held a Wal-Mart and a local chain store,
Readers choose
John Philpin
Lauri Robinson
John Larkin
Belinda Rapley
Jackie French
Jus Accardo
Bianca D'Arc
Danika Steel