The Shore (Leisure Fiction)

Winds had already gouged away most of the gravel, exposing concrete foundations beneath the boardwalk. Not one of my better ideas. A single darkening lump of earth remained beneath the boards, and as Steve watched, dirt flew like smoke. Hiding till everyone else cleared out. He huddled behind the wheel of the Volkswagen. Well, nobody'll see me here, that's for sure.

It had gotten bad so fast. Finding only static, he switched off the radio, giving his full attention to the liquid shapes that flattened on the windshield. Coming down even harder, just in the last few seconds. In random spurts, water struck through gaps in the boards overhead, like hammer blows against the Volks.

The car shivered. What now? Vibrations trembled through the steering wheel into his bones, and suddenly he understood. He heard the rumble, felt the ocean pound away at the very shale and bedrock of the peninsula. My God. Again, the ground shuddered.

I wonder if these things really are watertight. A gobbet of water hit the side window and he jerked his head away, expecting to see the glass cracked. Guess I'm about to find out. He clenched his fists around the steering wheel and willed his shoulders to relax. Some plan. It had been an easy thing to help the D'Amatos load the baby carriage into their van, then double back in his own car. I should give myself the 'Suicidal Dope of the Year' award.

He observed the whirling gray of the horizontal torrent, and his stomach clenched. Give it another minute. The sea had undergone some alchemical transformation, become an entirely new element, neither wholly wind nor water, an eruption of foaming vapor that streaked at him. Are you nuts? Mist struck the window. Get out of here!

Froth flew, and the car rocked. Shit! He hoped that only rain drove against the windows, not seawater. The engine sputtered. Damn it! Come on! He twisted the key in the ignition again, and the Volks bucked over the mud, then splashed toward the street.

Water surged around the tires, skewing the car as the steering wheel tried to wrestle away from him. He sloughed through a flooded field, splashed across a lawn. Volleys of rain struck like buckshot. Two empty cars angled on the corner, and he twisted the wheel, narrowly sluicing past them as the wind shoved the Volks onto the sidewalk.

When he reached the corner, the gale eased up fractionally, but in the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of movement. A white avalanche slid out from beneath the boardwalk, frothing over the cars, burying them and tumbling down the street.

He stomped on the gas pedal as the hissing roar pursued him.

Water streaked on the windows until the world became a streaming gray. Where the hell am I? With a thundering slap, the Volks went down a steep curb into a shallow pool. Christ, the hotel has got to be...

Liquid havoc swirled. Some structure hurtled down the street, plunging end over end, already unidentifiable, splashing and smashing itself into bits that the wind swept away. The dim brick facade of the hotel momentarily surfaced in his vision, and he jerked the wheel, sideswiping a mailbox with a dull clang. The Volks splashed deep into the lot. He stomped on the brake, but the car kept going. Slower. Pushing through the water. The Volks hit the wall with a shattering thud, and he pitched forward against the steering wheel and flung open the door.

The storm shoved him down like a hand, and leaves and dirt filled the air, choking him, as brackish spray swept up from the ground. Head lowered, he clambered toward the back of the hotel, his jacket coruscating with a thousand violent ripples. He clutched the doorknob. A spout of wind pounded him to the wood, and the door burst open. Groping his way in, he snatched away the bit of electrician's tape he'd earlier used to disable the lock.

He threw his weight against the door. It stopped a foot short of closing, wind roaring through. It's getting stronger. His shoes slipped on the wet floor as he strained. The door slammed with a soft chop. Gasping, he leaned against it, rivulets running from his clothes. A muffled roar drummed through the wood.

Damn...soaked... His teeth chattered. I'm sure as hell not going back out to the car for my suitcase. He'd thrown his clothes together, just to fool the D'Amatos, but left everything else.

He staggered down the hall. Just ahead of him, a window blew out, and the curtain billowed, glass and water scattering.

He edged around the window, uselessly flicking a light switch as he passed. At the end of the corridor, the lobby windows glimmered, and he stumbled onward. Above his head, the chandelier tinkled softly, then jangled like piano keys. Groping to the foot of the stairs, he mounted slowly, pausing to listen. The storm bellowed against the walls. Another window exploded, but faintly, in another part of the hotel, and his grip tightened on the banister.

He felt his way along the recessed shadows that lined the corridor. A door slammed, nearby this time, and a ripping moan--full of the shattering of glass--grated along the outside of the building. 'Just the wind,' he said. 'The wind.' He repeated it louder, then shouted it but still couldn't hear himself.

He could see now, like a diver rising into shallower depths. The windows held a turbid incandescence, and streaming radiance filled the passage as he fumbled his key into the lock.

In his room, light faded. An eruption rattled the floorboards beneath his feet, and the downpour drowned the thunder. Here it comes. He groped for the window. The real thing. Bits of debris skated past outside, too fast to make out, and the buildings across the street streaked and blurred. Something huge sloughed through the street below. A car? A tree? A shark? Then the world beyond the window ceased to exist.

Coruscating patches glimmered.

Something clattered overhead, and the walls buckled with a loud crack. Like the end of the world. Twisting around, he felt for the swaybacked chair, dragged it away from the window. As he began to sit, his hand strayed to his wet clothing, and he shivered. Unbuttoning his shirt, he peeled it off and dropped it at his feet. Setting the flashlight on the dresser, he angled the beam into the oval mirror so that the room filled with a rippled gleam, and the reflected light seemed to pool in the dent in the mattress. He perched on the edge of the bed and worked his heavy shoes loose, then kicked them away. Rolling soundlessly in the din, they left a mottled trail.

The door to the hall swung open. In his wet socks he rushed to slam it, threw the bolt. His soaked pants clung as he wrestled them off. Gathering his things, he started into the bathroom.

He stood very still.

The building swayed.

Wind blasted, and the bathroom lit with a sputtering flash. He heard the clatter of something falling in the other room, and again the building moved. Windows popped along this side of the hotel, a steadily tinkling cascade, and he wondered how much more the old bricks could take before they burst from their mortar. No longer even aware of the chill, he dropped his clothes in a sodden heap and stumbled naked to the chair.

A clap of wind rattled the windowpanes. Then the wind veered from another direction, seeming to move slowly around the building, groping for a point of entry.

Winds mounded the water, then chopped at it, shattered it.

Waves slapped into the air. They surged forward, crushing the stairs, splintering across the boardwalk--a row of shops vanished. Power lines sparked and flared, and flame spurted like a tear in the fabric of the storm.

Even in the sheltered bay, rain-slashed waves swamped the few boats and submerged the dock. Storage huts blew into pointed boards as sheet metal crumpled, peeling back from roofs, and metal and wood took flight.

The door exploded open, and she burst into the hall with a swell of rain. Gasping on the floor, she rolled onto her back. 'Charlotte!' With both feet, she kicked the massive door shut against the gale. 'Charlotte, where are you?' Stumbling, she massaged her shoulder. 'Charlotte, I've got the jeep outside. The wind blew it into the porch--we've got to get...' She raced, dripping, into the hallway.

The grandfather clock ticked harshly. 'Where are your lights? Is your heat off?' She tripped, her flailing hands