As his beaten-up 1990 red ute roars through floodwaters on the I-90 Highway, Derick Landor opens the driver's door.
"Oh wow," he says looking at the water, which is lapping into the floor of his truck.
"We've had floods, but not exactly like this, this has been one for the books," he says.
After being stranded at his home on the outskirts of town for days, the Beaumont fire captain is desperate to get back to work in his flooded city.
"Lot of our guys stay on outskirts so ones in there are exhausted. I can hear it in their voices, so I wanted to get in there and give some relief," he says.
His phone rings. It's his wife.
"We been going through high water baby, I'll call you back."
He pauses while she speaks.
"I'm safe baby," he says before hanging up.
Beaumont is a city of about 130,000 people and it's been hit hard by floodwaters since Hurricane Harvey passed through. The worst is not over — the Neches River is overflowing and still rising. Locals say the dams upstream are full.
A few more kilometres down the highway, the water clears.
"We made it!" Captain Landor cheers.
He pulls into the nearest fuel station.
Pete Shay, a resident of the town of China down the road, pulls up next to him.
"We have a little water under the house, septic doesn't work but we are better off than a lot of people," he says.
"There are loads of fire ants floating around, snakes, gators. So if we get hungry at lest we have a food source!"
Captain Landor jumps back into his truck. Before hitting the fire station he wants to check on his 85-year-old dad Morris, who lives near the centre of Beaumont.
"How you feeling, you holding up?" he asks as the pair hug in the car port.
Morris is a small, withered man with bright blue eyes and grey hair, but he is sharp. He explains how the water came into the car port but the house is OK.
In the bathroom, Morris has put an Esky and a small black bucket in the bathtub under the tap. Barely a dribble is coming out.
The city's pump is broken and 130,000 people are without water. He is trying to catch as much as he can to use to flush the toilet.
"I got it up this morning and I got up to turn the water on and it is just dripping," he says.
He has one case of drinking water left. His son brings in two big bottles and some food from his truck, takes a quick look in the kitchen and promises to bring back more supplies.
"Thanks for coming," Morris says as they hug goodbye.
Back in his red pick-up truck, Captain Landor heads to the civic centre, which has become a refuge for those who've lost their homes. He has no idea how long he will have to stay in Beaumont nor when he will get back to his family.
"It can be a tough job at certain points," he says.
"But I just really feel like it is such a rewarding job," he says, grabbing his yellow kit bag from the back of his truck, and heading into the civic centre to relieve his weary colleagues.
