“You couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black. Just kids screaming for help.”

This is not a line from a disaster movie. It’s what survivors are saying tonight from the heart of Texas—a place now buried in mud, tragedy, and unanswered questions.

A historic and violent flood has claimed the lives of at least 78 people, including 28 children—with dozens more still missing. Entire communities have been shattered, families torn apart, and idyllic summer camps turned into haunting graveyards.

And still, no one knows exactly what went wrong.

Two Best Friends. One Camp. Both Gone.

Eloise Peck and Lila Bonner were just eight years old—best friends from Dallas who had just finished 2nd grade. They were attending Camp Mystic, a Christian summer camp tucked along the serene banks of the Guadalupe River in Kerr County. On Friday, that serenity vanished in minutes.

Both girls drowned in the flood. Ten other campers remain missing. Their photos are now part of a growing wall of grief, filled with ribbons, prayers, and stunned silence across Texas.

The camp director, Dick Eastland, a father of four, died trying to save children.

 “It Looked Like a War Zone”: The Aftermath

When the floodwaters receded, what was left behind was described as “mass destruction, like a third world war zone.” Bunks were scattered like matchsticks. Walls were caked in mud. A horse from one of the camps was found washed up miles away on a resident’s property.

Photographers captured a sobbing young girl returning to Camp Mystic, standing in disbelief where her childhood memories had been replaced by carnage.

 68 Dead in Kerr County Alone. Many Were Just Kids.

Of the 78 statewide deaths, a staggering 68 occurred in Kerr County. At least 28 were children, swept away in moments. Other deaths have been reported in Travis, Burnet, Kendall, and Williamson Counties.

The flash floods came with such ferocity that in some areas, rivers rose dozens of feet within 30 minutes. People had no time to escape.

“Just 30 minutes—that’s all it took to wash away an entire town’s future,” said a first responder in Kerrville.

The Warning System: Did It Fail?

As rescuers dig through vines, debris, and snake-infested waters—some using night vision and thermal drones—families are demanding answers:

Were alerts sent early enough?

Why didn’t more campers evacuate?

Did the camp have an emergency protocol?

Officials confirm some early warning messages were sent. But many survivors never received them—or didn’t know what to do. A growing number of Texans say this wasn’t just a natural disaster. It was a preventable tragedy.

“Sending an alert is not the same as having a plan,” one state official admitted.

Hand-in-Hand in Death: Two Sisters, One Prayer

Among the recovered victims were Brooke and Blair Harbor, students at St. Rita’s Catholic School. Their grandparents are still missing. The girls were found holding hands, rosaries clutched between them. Only their parents survived.

“They were young women of deep faith,” their parish shared. “Their love never left them—even in death.”

DNA, Desperation, and the Final Hours

Some bodies are now so difficult to identify that the Texas Department of Public Safety is flying DNA samples to North Texas labs for rapid processing.

“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” said Chris Lawrence, reporting live from Kerrville. “We’re watching families hope for a miracle, while bracing for a knock at the door.”

How Did It Get This Bad?

This time-lapse video of the Llano River shows people desperately scrambling uphill as waters surge. That’s how fast it happened—minutes, not hours.

President Donald Trump has declared a state of emergency for the region and will travel to Texas Friday to assess the damage and recovery needs.

A Town on Its Knees, a State in Mourning

At First Presbyterian in Kerrville, Sunday service turned into a memorial. People held each other. Some were too numb to speak. Others cried openly. Jane Ragsdale, beloved director of the Heart of the Hills camp, attended that church. She is among the dead.

One survivor summed up the feeling across Texas tonight:

“We’re overwhelmed. It’s sensory overload. It’s death, grief, rescue, helicopters, crying, debris, prayer—and silence. Too much of everything. And not enough answers.”

What Happens Next?

Search teams continue working around the clock. Coast Guard units are using night-vision and thermal drones. Divers are battling mud, water moccasins, and tangled debris. Families are posting pictures. The whole state is tying green ribbons for the victims.

Texas is now asking one hard question: how many of these deaths could have been avoided?

We’ll be covering this tragedy in the coming days as more stories emerge—stories of loss, heroism, failure, faith, and what we owe the victims moving forward.