I checked out back. My fence was gone. Kayak—gone. It appeared the water from the lagoon had risen high enough to cause some problems, but luckily, did not intrude into the house. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing my home was still here.
“You better find yourself a roofer pretty quickly to fix those shingles or you’ll have more water in the house. All the roofers in the area are sure to be booked up with this mess,” my dad said, trying to be helpful.
I had been making phone calls the whole drive down to the shore area, but no one was answering. I couldn’t figure out what was going on in Sunshine.
“What do you want to do, Dad? I can’t get a hold of anyone. Should we try to go over to your house?”
“Well, we drove all the way here; might as well.”
I cleaned up the water on the kitchen floor, then locked the front door. We walked back to the car then headed toward the causeway. As we got closer to the bridge on the bay side, the devastation was apparent. Most of the homes along the bay front were obliterated. I noticed military vehicles blocking all lanes, not letting anyone through. I pulled up alongside of a soldier in camouflage fatigues and rolled down my window.
“May I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
“I’m the Municipal Clerk for the Town of Sunshine and a member of their Emergency Management Team. Am I allowed to cross?”
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. The island is flooded. There is no way to pass in your vehicle.”
“Do you know where I can find any of the officials for the town?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. My orders are to stay here and not allow anyone through. I don’t have any information for you.”
“Are there any residents stranded in their homes?”
“There are over one hundred National Guard soldiers that were deployed here. If anyone is trapped, we are working diligently to save them.”
I thanked the soldier for his time and for serving our county. I looked over at my dad. His head was facing out of the passenger side window and I could see a tear rolling down his cheek. I knew what he was thinking. His home was probably in shambles. I felt a lump in my throat, but I wouldn’t allow myself to cry. I needed to be strong for my dad.
“Looks like I’m out of a job,” I said jokingly, trying to lighten things up a bit.
“I suppose so,” my dad said.
I turned the car around and headed back to Lawrenceville. I wanted to give my daughter a hug. Even though sadness surrounded us, I was thankful my family was safe.
Chapter 20
In the aftermath of the storm, the only thing we could do was sit and wait. I decided to stay at my cousins’ house with my parents since there was still no electricity at my place. I wanted to be near family anyway, away from the horrifying scenes down the Jersey shore. I kept busy making phone calls to various county elections officials, making arrangements for early voting and relocating the polls. I asked our IT department to disseminate information on how Sunshine residents could get their ballots in. Voting may not have been the top priority for some people given the circumstances, but for those who wanted to vote, I wanted to make it as convenient as possible.
Finally, after three days of waiting, I received a call telling me to report to work in the morning. I was left with specific instructions—to bring my government ID, to park my car bayside in a specific parking area, to dress down, and bring work gloves if I had them.
I made the trip to the shore in an hour and fifteen minutes. I parked in the designated area and walked over to a military 4x4. I informed the soldier at the wheel that I worked for Sunshine and I was instructed to park my car. After he checked my employee ID and driver’s license, he said he would drive me to the rendezvous point, whatever that meant.
As he drove over the bridge, I could only describe what I saw as catastrophic. I grew teary-eyed looking at the ruins surrounding us. I suddenly understood the need for the escort. Without the 4x4, the roads were impassable. Mounds of sand, three feet high in some spots, were dumped into the streets, partly covering any vehicles that were left behind in the evacuation. Houses were either completely demolished or had windows, siding, and garage doors blown out. My driver had to navigate around boats that had been lifted from their docks and slammed down into the streets. Piles of debris were strewn in every direction I looked. Power lines were downed, trees were uprooted, and dunes were gone. The island no longer looked like the island. It was a place I no longer recognized.
As we approached Sixth Street, the damage seemed less extensive. It was clear that the houses had been submerged, yet many remained intact. We turned onto Ocean Avenue and I spotted what was left of Bonnie’s house. Her entire first floor was missing. Her upper floors were supported by pilings and nothing else.
I knew that the first floors of beach houses were designed to break away during a major storm surge, but I had never seen it happen before. I felt terrible for Bonnie. I wondered how I would break this news to her. Since residents hadn’t been allowed on the island yet, I didn’t think she knew about the condition of her house.
We walked a couple more blocks to the municipal building, which turned out to be the rendezvous point. I noticed that the building did not seem to have substantial damage on the exterior, except for shattered windows. I hopped out of the military vehicle and went inside, going straight to the clerk’s office. I was immediately thankful that I didn’t have to worry about disaster recovery for the town’s records, especially the historical and permanent documents that were not stored at a second location. Everything was intact and dry. It would have been terrible to lose Sunshine’s documented history. I had received a grant to microfilm meeting minutes when I began working for the town, so those would have been safe. Old maps and books would not have been.
The basement wasn’t in as good shape as my office. It had indeed flooded and the flood waters remained trapped inside. Without electricity, the sump pump wasn’t able to do its job. I headed back outside.
There were people gathered outside, waiting for directives. I joined the crowd. Rodney arrived and gave a pep talk before he handed out assignments. Unfortunately, the dreadful news of twelve deaths in Sunshine was reported to us. I felt sick to my stomach. They were not people I knew, but it was still tragic.
The Army Corps of Engineers was taking part in the recovery mission and providing support to public works. With the knowledge of the fortunate being saved and the less fortunate victims having been accounted for, the next task was to make the roads passable. Arriving on site were dump trucks, backhoes, and other pieces of large equipment.
My assignments included phone support, handling resident inquiries, and coordinating non-monetary donations. I was given a cell phone. The main number for the municipal building was to be transferred to this cell phone later in the day. I didn’t have to stay on the island; I could work from virtually anywhere. Considering there was no electric or gas, I didn’t have a choice but to work elsewhere.
I took a walk over to Thirteenth Street. At first glance, it wasn’t that bad. The dunes seem to have protected their street somewhat. I used my key to let myself into my parents’ house. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the first floor had to be completely gutted. I started snapping photos with my cell phone. I figured the insurance company might request them.
The carpeting and drywall were soaked. I assumed the insulation had to be replaced. The appliances in the kitchen were rendered unusable. Furniture could not be salvaged. I made my way upstairs. The second floor seemed to be untouched. I didn’t see any leaks through the ceiling, so it appeared that the roof held up.
I locked the front door and exited the house through the back. Their fence was knocked over, but didn’t seem damaged to me. The grill was beyond hope of salvaging. I wasn’t sure if the lawn furniture was missing or if my dad had put it somewhere.
The power was going to be out for an undetermined amount of time so I knew I’d have to break the news to my parents that they would have to i
nfringe on my cousins for a while longer. I was sure they were going to be much more upset about the condition of their house than about having to stay with my cousins. I decided to take more photos of the ruins around the island. Maybe if my parents saw how bad some people had it, they would feel more thankful that it didn’t end up being worse for them.
I walked back to the municipal building and hopped on the next military escort, to be taken back to my car. There wasn’t much I could do without electricity. On our way back, I noticed the sign for Fourth Street. Fourth Street was unrecognizable. Mr. Triggers had been right all along; without dunes at the end of his street, not one of the houses remained standing.
I drove back to Madisen. I thought I’d check on my house and see if the electricity had been turned on yet so that I could work from there. No luck. I dialed Bonnie’s phone number.
“Hi,” I said. “Did you survive the storm?”
“Hey. Where are you? I’m at my mother-in-law’s house in Rumson. We’re all safe. I tried to get on the island to check out my house, but they wouldn’t let us drive across the bridge.”
“I’m at my house, but I have no electricity. I went to the island today. I’m going to work from home for a while, until I can’t take the cold any longer. I’m staying at my cousin’s place in Lawrenceville.”
“You were on the island? Did you happen to drive by my house?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Chelsey, just tell me. I can take it.”
“I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone. I am so incredibly sorry, Bonnie. The bottom half of your house broke away during the storm.”
Bonnie wept. It was overwhelming. I was numb the whole ride into and out of Sunshine. I told Bonnie that twelve residents perished in the storm. We both stayed on the phone and cried.
“Do you want me to come to your house and help you?” Bonnie asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “I don’t have much to do at this point. They gave me a cell phone, which will temporarily be the main phone line for the Sunshine. I might need help taking calls tomorrow.”
“Was the whole island destroyed?” Bonnie asked.
“Pretty much,” I told her.
We hung up, and I found a couple of notebooks and pens. I loaded them into a bag with paperclips, a stapler, and some tape. I was going to wait around longer to answer the Township cell phone, but the phone hadn’t started ringing yet, so I got in my car and left.
I dreaded the drive back to Lawrenceville that evening. I knew I had to face my parents. I wasn’t sure how I would break the news that their house was a mess. I carefully reviewed my speech in my head.
Everyone was waiting for me when I arrived at my cousins’ house.
“Well?” my mother asked.
I explained how I had to park off to the left of the causeway and that the military had to drive me onto the island. I told them about how the storm dumped numerous feet of sand onto the roads. I described how Bonnie’s house and some homes and businesses were swept away by the ocean. I knew this wasn’t what they wanted to hear. My parents were sitting on the edge of their chairs in anticipation that I would tell them about their house next.
“It wasn’t that bad in comparison to everything else. The house is there and it is intact. You did get some water in the house. You’ll probably have to replace the carpeting, some furniture, and appliances. The upstairs was untouched. The siding needs to be power washed. All of your windows were intact. You may need to replace the drywall and insulation downstairs. You fared better than most others on the island. There were twelve deaths in the storm.”
My mother cupped her hands over her face and left the room. I could hear her bawling in the bathroom. My father was speechless.
“I took pictures for the insurance company. I’ll show you tomorrow,” I told my father.
It was getting late and I didn’t want to upset him any more than he already was. I took Mandy and got her dinner ready. Her little face made me smile. She was a little shining light in the midst of all the darkness I had seen that day.
Chapter 21
The next day was Halloween, which was cancelled for the children of Sunshine. I felt like I was playing the part of the Grim Reaper when the cell phone started ringing at six o’clock in the morning and it was up to me to deliver the ghastly news. I grabbed my notebook and answered the phone.
“When are we allowed onto the island to get into our homes?”
“There’s no set date yet, sir,” I replied.
“This is ridiculous. I demand to know why I can’t go to my house.”
I tried to be as understanding as I could. If only this caller could see what I had seen, he would understand. I took his name and number and told him I’d call him with updates.
The next twenty calls were the same. Homeowners and business owners. Men and women. Seniors and college students. All looking for answers. I longed to do more than be the complaint division. It was the next call that made me think harder. The caller asked what she could do to help.
I pulled out my iPad and looked up Madisen Township’s website. I found their phone number and called their Township Clerk, Kathy Norcia.
“Hi, Kathy, it’s Chelsey Alton from the Town of Sunshine. Do you have power in your municipal building?”
“Yes, we got power back today,” she informed me.
“I hate to infringe on you, but Sunshine was reduced to rubble in the storm. We have nowhere to work. I happen to live in Madisen and I was hoping you had a conference room I could use to set up shop.”
“Oh, of course. I could set you up in our all-purpose room.”
I thanked her and told her I was on my way. I called Bonnie next. “Do you feel like coming to help me today?”
“Sure. Where do you want to meet?”
“Madisen’s Town Hall. Are you sure you’re okay with this, being that you aren’t officially rehired yet?”
“What else do I have to do today? Sit around and mope about my house? I’ll be there in an hour or so.”
We disconnected and by nine o’clock, I was headed out on the road to Madisen.
The municipal building for Madisen was far bigger than Sunshine’s. There were large columns in the front with a large staircase. I pushed open the heavy glass double-doors at the main entrance and walked down a long corridor to the municipal clerk’s office. The window to their clerk’s office was encased in glass. Much safer than our window, I thought. After a few beats, Kathy came out of the office and introduced herself. She was about five feet, five inches tall, thin, and had short, blonde, spiked hair. She was slightly older than I and had been the municipal clerk for Madisen for about fifteen years.
“I really appreciate your hospitality,” I said to her.
“We are happy to be of help. We fared better than you in the storm and I’m terribly sorry for the devastation that your town suffered.”
She walked me back down the corridor, toward the main entrance, and through to another wing of the building. The all-purpose room was a large area with white speckled linoleum floor and white walls. There were two banquet tables and numerous chairs.
“We can get you additional tables and chairs if you’d like and you are welcome to our copier,” Kathy said.
“This is wonderful, thank you,” I replied.
“Bathrooms are down the hallway and there is a kitchen area near the bathrooms,” she informed me before she left.
A few minutes later, Bonnie arrived. “What do you need me to do?” she asked.
I put Bonnie in charge of incoming calls then I used my personal cell phone to dial out. I called Rodney to ask for a list of items that they needed. Next, I called our IT department to retrieve the password for the town’s Facebook page.
I turned on my iPad and connected to Facebook. I put up a post on Sunshine’s page: Sunshine and its neighboring communities were nearly destroyed by last week’s storm. Crews are working around the clock to reopen the island, but we need your help.
We need shovels, bleach, and buckets. Please deliver to the Madisen Township Municipal Building, located at 478 Broad Street.
Almost immediately, people were hitting “like” on the post and commenting on it, asking if there was anything else that was needed.
I called Rodney back at the end of the day and asked him if he thought anything else was needed. Bottled water or coffee? Volunteers? I posted another status update before I went home: The crews on the island are in need of bottled water, gasoline containers, hand sanitizer, tarps, and work gloves. Please deliver to the Madisen Township Municipal Building.
* * *
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I arrived at Madisen’s all-purpose room the next morning. The room was filled with supplies. Madisen’s public works division took the liberty of moving items that were left outside indoors for me and I was extremely appreciative. There was more than I’d be able to carry. I was amazed at the generosity of others. I called Rodney and told him that I needed help getting supplies over the bridge into Sunshine. Within an hour, a group of Sunshine’s employees arrived with hand trucks and they carted the goods off to their vehicles.
I learned from Rodney that the crews were able to clear out the main roads from the causeway to the municipal building in Sunshine. They would be working on as many side streets as possible in the upcoming days. Residents would not be allowed onto the island for the time being, but emergency personnel would be able to cross over the bridge. I asked him what else was needed.
Rodney reported they could use more bottled water, first aid kits, and snacks. I posted the information on Facebook once more. Again, the outpouring of help was overwhelming. People were stopping in the municipal building all day long. I was running out of room and Bonnie and I couldn’t handle sorting everything. Additionally, I had an election to prepare for. I knew I needed help. I quickly put out another post: Volunteers are needed to help sort and transport supplies for the Town of Sunshine. Please come to the Madisen Township Municipal Building.
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