The Hurricane

by Hugh Howey

  Daniel had a sudden impulse to leap out of the back of the Bronco and run down the street, screaming at the top of his voice.

  “Look at that,” Anna said. She pointed off to the other side. Daniel could hear his father and Edward jabbering in the front. His brother cursed.

  Daniel leaned forward and peered out the back of the Bronco and off to the side. The hulk of a dozen boats were scattered over the marsh between the highway and the Beaufort River. Normally, the craft were bobbing in the gentle swell or stiff current of the ever-changing tide, like ducks all swimming in the same direction. The high tide and storm surge had pulled their moorings free and had dragged them over dry land before receding. Now they sat on their sides, forlorn and looking like toys, masts angling up toward the sky in unusual angles, the tatters of an unfurled headsail hanging from a forestay like laundry left out to dry. A pickup truck was parked out on a gravel turnout, the driver standing by the front bumper, his hands on the sides of his head, elbows jutting, disbelieving, to either side. Daniel wondered if he was one of the owners, or just a stunned gawker like the rest of them.

  “Over there,” Anna said.

  She pointed across the river. Daniel saw the stern and prop of a boat lost among the trees on the far bank. A small sailboat stood high and dry, tangled in the broken limbs of an old oak. It seemed to be what Anna was pointing at. He heard Hunter and Chen conversing back and forth; he looked to the side to see their faces hanging out the window, eyes wide and darting.

  Daniel imagined what the City Marina must look like if this anchorage, known affectionately as “Hurricane Hole” for its relatively nice protection, could be so decimated. He was frankly glad when Edward did a U-Turn at the end of town and started heading back toward home, keeping him from having to see what his dad had been through.

  “Doesn’t look like much of anything’s open for business,” Daniel said.

  They passed the gas station with the single operational pump. Edward didn’t even slow down, obviously deciding he had enough fuel to not endure the wait.

  “It’s only been two days,” Anna pointed out. Daniel felt a stabbing fear that she was referring to their hand-holding and the rapidity of his feelings for her. He shook such doubts away. She was talking about the storm, the signs of progress already. She was saying that this was as bad as it would be, and it would only get better.

  Daniel nearly reached out and tested whatever was between them by grabbing her hand, but such actions still felt like they needed a moment. It could feel casual and right during a moment, but not just anytime. Right then, it would have felt desperate. Physical, rather than emotional. Daniel marveled that he knew such things. He could now see through walls as well as fly. He wondered what other new powers he’d discover next.

  The Bronco picked up speed as they left town, and Daniel and Anna watched the road move beneath them, their chins hanging over the rear door. Sporadic traffic roared by in the other direction. Daniel waved to some kids in the back of a pickup, who waved back.

  They turned into their neighborhood, and Hunter whistled at the sight of the tree across the road. Edward steered them through the tight gap once again, the smell of cut wood and sap just as strong as before. Chainsaws were still busy at work somewhere. People were out doing what Daniel had been doing for days: dragging limbs, waving to foreign neighbors, drinking warm water and sweating. He felt like an explorer returning home from a dangerous circumnavigation. He felt alive with a new knowledge of what the outside world looked like and what other people were going through. He imagined himself going door to door to fill people in, despite the fact that they could just as easily drive through town and gawk for themselves.

  Edward passed by his and Anna’s house and drove to the end of the cul-de-sac. He pulled up Daniel’s driveway, past the several neat mounds of debris.

  “Holy shit,” Hunter said, when he saw the size of the tree resting against the house.

  Chen said something to him about watching his language as the Bronco squealed to a stop. Doors popped open and the six of them staggered out.

  Daniel heard Zola squeal their mother’s name. She then ran across the yard and threw herself into Hunter’s arms, who picked her up and spun her around. For Daniel, the scene was as bizarre and new as the tree denting their roof. Their mom walked briskly across the yard, tugging her gloves off, and waited for Zola to be set down. She hugged Hunter, her eyes wet with tears. She let go and stepped back to look at him, her hands still on his cheeks.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Hunter looked embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

  Their mother nodded to Chen, then reached out and hugged her. She glanced at Daniel over Chen’s shoulder, then her eyes went to Anna and widened.

  “Mom, this is Anna.”

  He wanted to add my girlfriend, whose hand I’ve held, but refrained.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, letting go of Chen and shaking her hand.

  “And this is her dad, Edward.” His mom turned and waved, thanking him. Edward smiled back, and Daniel saw the way their father was watching the entire scene from across the hood of the Bronco. His mother looked at their father for a second, and his father smiled. Daniel could’ve sworn his mom nodded his direction just a little as she squeezed Hunter’s arm.

  “Carlton borrowed a canister of propane from the couple across the street,” their mom said. “He’s grilling some chicken out back before it spoils. Daniel, why don’t you go see if he needs any help.” She nodded to Hunter and Chen. “You two can get freshened up. And Edward, we’ve got plenty if the two of you will join us. It’s the least we can do to repay you for picking Hunter up.”

  “Love to,” Edward said, smiling. He rubbed his beard. “Let’s unload and I’ll go park the car and grab some tomatoes.”

  “Yum,” Hunter said, rubbing his stomach.

  Daniel wanted to point out to his mom that Hunter and Chen hadn’t been doing much of anything for the past two days and didn’t need “freshening up.” But Anna was grabbing bags out of the back and forcing them into his hands, his mother shooing him toward the house before he could complain. Before he knew it, he was setting the bags down in the dining room and watching the Bronco back out of the driveway. He could see Anna’s face in the passenger seat as she peered out toward the house. Daniel wondered suddenly if the connection between them would be severed as soon as she was out of sight. What would it feel like to see her again, for the first time post-hand-holding? What were they? How did millions of people go through this and survive to giggle about it on the other side?

  Daniel pulled some canned goods from one of the bags and arranged them on the table. He could feel a powerful depression looming if Anna decided their moment had been a mistake. It was easy to imagine only Edward coming over for dinner, telling the rest of them that “Anna didn’t feel well,” casting a glance toward Daniel as if he’d done something wrong.

  Misery and joy, Daniel decided. This is how you know you’re in love.

  25

  Fortunately, Anna did come over, and a shy smile in Daniel’s direction let him know their bond could survive stretching the length of their neighborhood. She and her dad arranged some vegetables on the chopping block in the kitchen. Everyone else was out back, wrestling the furniture on the rear deck into place, picking the twigs and leaves out of the webbed chairs and fussing over the smorgasbord of food scavenged from the cabinets. Daniel could see Carlton and his dad standing by the grill, the chicken hissing and smoking, two small pots on the upper rack spitting with side dishes. The sight of the two men—father and stepfather—standing together amicably seemed surreal. Daniel accepted the plate of freshly sliced tomatoes shoved into his hands and allowed Anna to steer him toward the sliding screen door.

  “I think we’re almost ready,” his mom yelled at the upper floor. Daniel heard his brother shout something back through the open window. The temporary sleeping arrangements had been quickly set: Daniel was moving into Hunter’s room
with his brother, and Chen and Zola were sharing his. He had tried not to grumble about it too much. His brother had looked ready to be dropped back off at Chen’s house.

  “Grab a plate,” his mom said. She pointed to a stack of paper plates on the table. Daniel grabbed one for Anna and took one for himself. Carlton dropped a piece of BBQ-rubbed chicken on each of their plates. Daniel’s father added a scoop of warmed-up canned beans and instant mashed potatoes. To Daniel, the sparse fare looked like Thanksgiving.

  His brother and Chen joined them on the deck, followed soon after by Zola. Edward went around forking slices of tomato onto everyone’s plates. Daniel and Anna sat on the steps leading down to the back yard while the others scrambled for room around the oval table. Their father put his food together last and ate standing, his cup balanced on the deck’s wooden rail.

  While they ate, Hunter and Edward took turns telling the others about what they’d seen in town, about the gas pump, the cops at the grocery store, the beached fleet of sailboats, all the downed power lines and the wrecked roofs. Zola asked if there’d been any cell phone signal, and everyone was surprised to realize that they hadn’t even checked.

  Daniel dove into his food and watched Anna enjoy hers. They exchanged smiles while they chewed, as if the two of them possessed a secret. Chainsaws hummed in the distance; everyone laughed and ate and gossiped. Chen seemed to take perverse delight in telling their mom that she’d warned Hunter to park the Taurus out in the yard. News of the car, however, was still a sore spot for their mom, who chewed her dinner and didn’t laugh with the others while they recounted their search for the insurance card and their attempts to work the radio.

  As far as Daniel could tell, it was the most normal, bizarre meal he’d ever had. Looking up, he could see the limbs of the great oak from the front yard reaching over the peak of the damaged roof. One massive broken limb draped over the back and was bushy with leaves. That he could get so quickly used to such newness as the tree on his house made his infatuation with Anna almost believable. Which was stranger or more sudden? As Anna stabbed the last of his tomato off his plate and popped it into her mouth, Daniel slashed at her fork with his as if jousting, and oddly enough wished that nothing in his world would ever change—

  “Holy shit, I’ve got a bar,” Zola said.

  “Language, young lady,” their mother said, but everyone else stopped chewing and turned to look at her. She held her phone in the air, tilted the screen down and peered up at it. She spun in place, as if trying to divine the pocket of most reception. Hunter and Chen both began digging their phones out of their pockets.

  “It’s gone,” Zola said. She walked down the steps between Daniel and Anna, waving the phone in the air. “Come back,” she called after the ephemeral bar.

  “I’ve got signal,” Hunter said. He pressed some buttons.

  “Who’re you calling?” Chen asked.

  “You,” he said. Everyone sat breathless. He lowered the phone and looked at it. “It says the network is full.”

  “Me too,” Zola said, holding the phone to her ear.

  “I bet everyone is trying to use them,” Daniel pointed out.

  “There might be signal but no service for quite some time,” Edward said.

  “Honey, don’t just keep redialing.” Their mother snapped her fingers in Zola’s direction. “Just try once an hour. Don’t waste your battery.”

  Anna seemed like she was going to say something about the batteries—maybe remind them of her charging station—but chose not to.

  “Let’s not get all worked up,” their father said. “These things will come back in time, but trying to rush them won’t make it happen any faster.” He gathered plates from the table and stacked them together. Daniel watched his mom as she studied his actions. She handed her own empty plate to him, her eyes darting from him to Carlton.

  “Thanks for cooking,” their father said, nodding to Carlton. “I’m going to get out of ya’lls hair for a while. Tomorrow, though, I’m gonna want to borrow that saw.” He turned and looked to Edward, who seemed to have bonded with their father during the day’s ride. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to head over and get that rope we talked about, so I’ll have it in the morning.”

  “What’re you gonna do in the morning?” Daniel asked.

  “We,” his father said. He glanced up. “We’re gonna get that tree off this house I built. We’re not gonna wait around for someone else to come and do it for us.”

  His father gave him a most sober stare. He stepped between Daniel and Anna and strolled purposefully toward Edward’s house.

  Edward thanked Carlton and his mom for their hospitality and hurried off as well. Daniel’s mom stood still, an empty plate in her hand. She looked up at the broken bough of the massive tree hanging over the top of the roof.

  “I guess I’d better go,” Anna told Daniel, the lilt of her voice seeming to complain at having to do so. She stood up and brushed the back of her shorts with her hands. Daniel stood as well and took her plate, stacking it under his own.

  “Maybe I should come over and help Dad carry whatever he’s borrowing.” He knew it was a transparent excuse to stay near her, but he didn’t care. If he could be so bold in the back of the Bronco, he could let someone know he’d rather not see them go.

  Anna smiled. She bit her lip and nodded. Daniel threw the plates in a trash bag Hunter was using to gather dishes. He mumbled to his mom that he’d be right back, then chased Anna off the deck and around the house toward the street.

  ••••

  “That was an amazing meal,” Daniel said, making small talk while they walked the short trip between their houses.

  “Yeah.” Anna turned her head to follow the flight of a startled blue jay. “Your brother seems like a cool guy. And your sister’s sweet.”

  Daniel refrained from arguing the points. “Do you miss your brother?” he asked.

  Anna nodded. She kicked a small limb off the street. “A lot. It was cool for a while to have the house to myself, but now it’s just boring.”

  “How do you like being home schooled? And why did your parents choose to do that?”

  “They didn’t. I did.” Anna tucked her hands into her back pocket. She veered to the side and nudged Daniel with her shoulder. “After middle school, I told them I was either gonna home school or just drop out and wait until I could take my GED. I couldn’t handle it.”

  “Couldn’t handle what?”

  She looked away. “Just stuff. Girls. Meanness.” She tried to smile at Daniel, but her eyes were shining wet. “I was always sort of this tomgirl. I enjoyed tinkering with my dad in the garage. I liked playing whatever my brother was playing. I mean, I loved my mom and all, but she was always the one working long hours and away on business. There was a lot of role reversal in my house, and it didn’t match what my peers were going through.”

  “You and I have a lot in common, then,” Daniel said. “Girls have a long history of being mean to me as well.” He laughed, hoping she’d take the admission as a joke.

  “Maybe they hate us for being cooler than them,” Anna offered.

  “I’m sure that’s it.”

  They stopped in front of Anna’s driveway and looked up at the house. Daniel nearly asked her if she wanted to keep walking some more, maybe to Georgia and back, but her father waved from the open garage, so they trudged up toward the house.

  Daniel’s dad was coiling a long length of rope when they joined them. Another neat loop of rope lay at his feet. “You don’t have any webbing by any chance, do you?” he asked Anna’s father.

  “I’ve got these tow straps,” he said, digging them out of a box and holding them up.

  “Perfect.”

  “I came over to see if you needed help carrying this stuff back,” Daniel said.

  His father flashed him a knowing smile, his eyes darting happily between him and Anna.

  “Hey,” Anna said, “I never showed you how that water flows down to our
sink.”

  “Oh, yeah, I meant to ask you about that.”

  “Hey Dad, I’m gonna take Daniel up to see our cistern.”

  Edward laughed and worked to unknot lengths of flat yellow webbing. “Go right ahead,” he said.

  “I’ll wait for you,” his father said, “so don’t be too long.”

  Daniel waved and followed Anna into the house. She checked over her shoulder with a smile before turning a corner and padding up the stairs. Daniel hurried after her.

  At the top of the stairs, she rounded a banister, her hand squeaking on the wood, and paced toward one of the bedrooms. She stood outside the door, looking in and waiting for Daniel.

  “We were filling up the bathtubs before the storm,” she said. “Dad and I were trying to think of ways to store up even more.”

  Daniel joined her and looked inside. There was a kiddie pool in the middle of the bedroom, sitting on top of a bed frame and box spring. The mattress was leaning on its side against a wall, out of the way.

  “What in the world?” Daniel asked.

  “Come look.” Anna walked around the pool to the bedroom window. She stuck a finger against the glass, pointing to a hose outside. “We set it up in a hurry, but it works great. Once we got the pool up here, Dad reached out the window and popped the downspout off the gutter. He held me while I taped that hose to where the downspout was.”

  Daniel looked up through the window to see a length of garden hose duct-taped to the short drop of spout leading off the gutter. The hose came through the top part of the window, which was cracked open, and led to the pool.

  “Mom would’ve killed us,” Anna said. She laughed.

  “So the water flows from the gutter into the pool,” Daniel said. He looked back at the pool, which was half full. “Why didn’t it overflow? There was tons of rain with that storm.”

  “It did overflow,” Anna said. She pointed to a hose trailing off the upper lip of the pool, gobs of caulk rimming a small indention that had been cut into the plastic. The hose snaked straight from the elevated lip of the pool and out the bottom of the window. “See? The pool overflowed into the sink all night, where the excess went down the drain and back outside. We let the gutters run clean first, then started collecting as much as we could.”