The Hurricane

••••

Daniel woke to thunder and the sensation of falling. The house was shaking, his mom crying out in alarm, powder from the ceiling drifting into his eyes as he looked up. He had a sudden image of a wave crashing over their house, of it disappearing in foam, his nightmare images leaking out into the noise and clamor of the real.

“What was that?” Zola asked. She sat up and clutched at Daniel. The house was still reverberating from the great crash. The echo of the noise, the sound of it from his dreams—and then Daniel realized the boom that woke them had been much louder than any of the other storm noises. The wind outside was terrifying and loud. It seemed to have grown louder. Daniel could hear the bones and joints of their house cracking and popping, almost as if the nails his father had driven by hand were now coming loose.

Carlton lit a candle. “Sounded like something hitting the house,” he said.

There was fear or sleepiness in his voice. Daniel could hear a swishing sound beyond the howl of the wind as sheets of rain pummeled the siding. It sounded like a massive straw broom was being raked violently across the house, over and over.

“Like a boat, or something?” Daniel had images of Hugo in his mind. They were miles from shore and the nearest marina, but he couldn’t shake the image of waves crashing over their house, like in his dream.

“Probably a tree.”

“Is there anything we should do?” his mother asked. She lit another candle, and Daniel saw for the first time that his all-powerful mom was scared and at a loss. He pried Zola’s fingernails out of his arm and patted the backs of her hands.

“Sorry,” his sister said.

“Can I take a flashlight and go look?”

His mom and stepdad both frowned at him. “This is the safest place to be until the storm’s over,” his mom said.

“I’ve gotta pee,” said Zola, bouncing her knees.

“Just a quick look, Mom. Just to see what it was. I won’t be long.”

Their mother looked back and forth between him and Zola, then turned to Carlton.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s going on out there,” Carlton admitted.

“Alright. We’ll move out into the hallway and take turns using the bathroom. Nobody flushes, okay? We’ll do that last.”

Zola groaned. “Are you serious?”

“And I’ve got a garbage bag here somewhere for the toilet paper so it doesn’t clog up.” Their mom dug in the bag of supplies she’d been using as a pillow.

“This sucks,” Zola said.

“You’re lucky you’re going first,” Daniel told her. He grabbed one of the flashlights. Carlton flicked one of the others on and back off again. The three of them shuffled into the hallway as Zola lifted the top lid of the toilet, still complaining under her breath.

“Damn, the house is moving,” Daniel said.

“Watch your language,” his mom said.

“We forgot to crack the windows,” Carlton hissed. He flicked on his flashlight as Zola pushed the door shut, squeezing off the light from the candles inside.

Daniel turned on his flashlight. “Why would we crack the windows?”

“It’s supposed to regulate the pressure inside and out. I don’t know if it’s an old wives tale or if there’s anything to it—”

“My dad used to make us do it as well,” his mom said. “They used to say it kept the roof from sucking off.”

“Is that what that noise was?”

“Nah, I think that was a tree hitting the house. It probably sounded a lot worse than it actually was.”

“We should crack the windows, I think,” his mom said, indecision in her voice.

There was a flushing sound in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry!” Zola called out. She cracked the door just as their mom was reaching for the knob. “It was a habit. I couldn’t stop myself!”

The toilet gurgled; Zola pouted in the cone of light from Daniel’s flashlight. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“It’s okay,” their mom said. She patted Zola on the arm. “You wanna come out while I go?”

Her eyes darted to the sides as the howling outside intensified during an especially powerful gust. The house swayed. “Can I stay in here with you? I won’t look.”

Their mom laughed. “Okay.” She kissed Carlton on the cheek. “I would just crack a few of them several inches or so.” She squeezed Daniel’s arm. “Be careful and don’t be long.”

Daniel nodded.

His mom slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. He could hear Zola still apologizing and making excuses inside.

“I’m going to crack the ones in our bedroom first,” Carlton said. “I’d like to grab an extra pillow and a blanket and drop them back off here.”

“I’ll do the living room and then just peek upstairs real quick,” Daniel said. “You’ll do the kitchen?”

“Okay,” Carlton said. He nodded, and Daniel caught the barest of smiles. Carlton tucked the flashlight between his elbow and ribs, clapped his hands once, and said, “Break,” like a football quarterback.

Daniel laughed and headed off in the other direction.

As the house rattled in the assault of wind and rain, he stopped laughing and padded along silently, hoping the house wouldn’t take his stepfather’s suggestion literally.

12

As Daniel crept down the hallway, playing his flashlight across the floor and up the walls, he suddenly felt like he was on patrol. The wild sounds outside made it feel as if he were on a ship being tossed on the seas. He was a lone sailor checking the bilges after crashing onto a reef, seeing how much water the ship was taking on.

It most certainly didn’t feel like his house. All the lights were off. As he passed through the kitchen and into the living room, he saw that even the appliances were dead. All the twinkling blips that normally graced their powered-down faces had blinked shut. The place looked abandoned. Condemned.

Daniel stole across the living room carpet toward the windows looking out over the front yard. He set down his flashlight and unlocked the window. Air hissed and whistled through the seams, the wind outside like a passing freight train. With his fingers bent in the jamb, Daniel lifted the window a few inches, and the air burst inside immediately. He had a sudden impulse to slam the window shut as the storm clawed its way inside, but refrained. He figured the whole point of opening the windows was to allow the insides of the house to match the fury outside. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but he thought his ears had popped like descending in an airplane. He squeezed his nose and blew out, then bent to retrieve his flashlight.

Before he moved to the next one, Daniel pressed the lens of the flashlight up against the window, shining it outside. The pathetic dribble of light did little to wash away the darkness, but he could see several of the trees outside bending in the wind. Unlike before, however, when the small trees had been moving, Daniel could now see the big ones swaying. The little ones were snapped in half. He could see flashes of white wood where their raw and exposed interiors caught the light. Brambles of limb littered the yard already, looking like a scattered hedge. Leaves sped by like jet-powered bugs; the wet ones plastered themselves to the house and windows. Rain came in sideways and in blinding sheets, like a powerful sprinkler dousing the house. Daniel felt the water misting him across his thighs as it blew through the screen and the new opening he’d made. It was hard to move away from the window. He was transfixed by the incredible forces powering through their front yard.

Finally, he tore himself away and moved to the next window. He cracked it, then ran to the dining room, bumping into a chair that had been left pulled out from the table. Carlton yelled something from the kitchen, but Daniel couldn’t hear over the wind he was inviting into the house. He flashed his light through the windows to look