Into the Hurricane

by Neil Connelly

  “World-class drama queen, huh?”

  Max came to this conclusion some time ago, in the hard days after her dad’s diagnosis, but hearing it from Eli stings. “Tell me something I don’t know now. Once they were married, I tried living with them for a couple years. Nothing but fights. Slammed doors. Smashed dishes.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare.”

  “Wait. You’ll never guess the last straw. About six months ago, right around Valentine’s I remember, Dad tells me he’s taking me to lunch at this diner we used to always eat at before he got remarried. Big special deal, just me and him. Alone at our corner booth, he brought up our visit to the lighthouse, how nice it was to be together.” Max pauses here. She recalls Just us and the connection they’d found at the lighthouse, which is way too hard to put into words.

  “Go on,” Eli urges.

  “He put his hand over mine on the table and said, ‘It would be good for us to get back to the lighthouse.’ I knew what he meant—the way we used to be closer, like when we visited here, but I didn’t see a way to do it. Still, it meant a lot that he was even saying it.”

  Max goes quiet again, and Eli has to ask, “So how was this bad?”

  “Right then, he got this weird smile and told me Angie was pregnant.”

  “Damn,” Eli says. “Bet that felt like a bomb.”

  “Total nuclear. I couldn’t deal with it. I packed my things and moved in with the only friends I had. I refused to answer the phone when he called.” Max swallows, trying to keep from getting emotional. “For months I cut all ties. No contact. Angie actually had to drive over to the Gonzalezes’ to tell me about his diagnosis in July. Pancreatic cancer. By the time I finally got my head on straight and went to see him at the hospital … his body was still there, but his spirit had long since slipped away.”

  She goes quiet for a while, gathering herself for this last push. “So the thing is, in the hospital he never said anything about the lighthouse and spreading his ashes. All that’s been my idea, really. And me, I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye or ask him to forgive me for being so self-centered. So yeah, I’ll get to carry that around now.”

  Behind her, Eli shifts. She’s shocked by how much she said, how it all came out in a rush. Maybe the truth was like anything kept locked up—it wants to escape. But now, after the release, she feels something like relief. Only, she wishes she could see Eli to read his expression. As she’s thinking about this, he asks, “Did you say the words?”

  “What?”

  “Even though he was out of it in that hospital room, did you say the things you wanted to say?”

  Max remembers that terrible bedside, how the metal guardrail felt cold on her chin, how hard the linoleum was on her knees. Her dad’s hand in hers, limp.

  “I did.”

  “Then you got no way of knowing what he did or didn’t hear. Besides, if you two were out looking for ghosts way back when, that sounds like you believe dying isn’t exactly the total end. Could be your dad knows now how you feel. You know, like from the other side.”

  Max warms at the idea of this, but it seems too easy. “Maybe,” she says.

  For a while, it’s quiet in the tent. Max realizes Eli never told her his whole story, that her tale kind of took over, but he doesn’t seem to mind. She feels exhausted, flattened out. Without thinking about it, she finds herself leaning back into Eli again, letting her head dip once more onto his shoulder. Her breathing slows, and she tries to imagine the hospital scene as she wishes it would have unfolded after her confession—with her father’s grip tightening on hers, his eyes opening, and the gentle words he would have offered, not just forgiveness but absolution.

  She’s nearly asleep when Eli asks in a low voice, “Max, all those haunted places you and your dad went to back when you were a kid … did you guys ever, you know, hear anything? See anything?”

  “Like what?” she asks sleepily. Her eyes are still closed.

  “Like proof. When you were ghost hunting.”

  She rolls her head side to side. “Nah,” she tells him. “Nobody proves things like that. Mostly people see what they want to see.”

  Eli’s quiet, and Max lets the silence sit for a while. Then she says, “You want to tell me about this sister of yours?”

  Her only answer is the storm. The wind lashes the tent, and Max pictures the whole thing being sucked up into the sky. It feels like forever since she slept, and that was just a nap of sorts at that rest stop on I-10 just outside Mobile. She’s exhausted, all but passed out. So she barely hears Eli when he finally says, “Not particularly.”

  Later—she can’t tell how long—Max wakes to Eli’s voice saying her name, low but excited. Something taps the back of her skull, and as she comes to, she realizes it’s him, reverse head-butting her gently. “C’mon, now,” he says.

  She blinks back the last of the sleep and sees the reason for the urgency. Standing before them in the tent is Charity. She’s still wearing greasy overalls, but now she’s clutching a knife in one hand. In the other, she holds Eli’s backpack. “You two want to get out of here?” she asks.

  “Hell yes,” Max says, and she starts trying to get to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  But Eli stays where he is. “Hang on,” he says to Charity. “How come you’re doing this?”

  “Maybe being charitable’s in my nature,” she answers. “Or could be I’m interested in making a bargain.” She sets down the knife and unzips Eli’s backpack, pulls out the urn. “Sign of good faith,” she says, setting it on the ground.

  “What do you get out of this deal?” Eli demands.

  Charity kneels down and trims away Max’s bonds but leaves Eli tied. The instant her hands are free, Max grabs the urn and stashes it in Eli’s backpack, which she slides over her shoulders. “Eli, come on.”

  He shifts on the ground, hanging his head. “I want to know what she wants in return. Nothing’s free.”

  Charity crouches by Eli and peers into his face. “I’m going to bring Greenie here out to a 4x4 I got stashed on the edge of our property and aim her toward town and the iron bridge. Might still be time to get off the island if you go now. It’s closing in on five. I don’t need but one of you, though. You want to stay here, that’s on you.”

  Max leans over and says, “You know I’ve got a better chance if you come with me. What are you doing?”

  Eli shakes his head. “Max, something’s weird about this. I don’t trust her.”

  “Then trust me,” she whispers, her face near to his.

  After another moment, Eli nods. “So be it. But I’m telling you, something don’t smell right.”

  Charity saws away at the ropes. The three of them stand and Charity says, “It ain’t but a little ways to the 4x4. Everybody’s down at the garage, so likely as not we won’t see nobody. Just the same, put your hands behind your back, like they’s still tied.”

  They interlock their hands. As they follow Charity toward the tent flap, Max stops. “Hang on a second. What about the dogs?”

  “They ain’t gonna bother with us.”

  “Are they chained up?”

  “They’re down with everybody else.”

  Eli lifts his chin. “What you got in that garage?”

  Charity considers this, then wipes at her forehead, smearing a slur of grease over one eyebrow. She grins an uneasy smile and says, “I’m working on Noah’s ark.”

  “Sounds to me like Noah’s got a problem getting the engine to turn over.”

  Charity glares at Eli, then says, “Rain’s pretty heavy now. Stay close.” And with that, they slide out into the storm.

  As they skirt along inside the tree line, back behind the log cabins, they don’t encounter any of the other Odenkirks. They bend against the thickening rain, which seems to be coming at them sideways through the trees. Even with the branches above, when those heavy waves come down, Max thinks she’s never felt rain like that back in Jersey. She wonders how close that hurricane must be.
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  As they leave the compound behind, Max and Eli stop pretending to be tied up and walk one in front of the other, following Charity on a thin trail snaking through the cypress woods. The ground is soggy and hard to see in the half dark. It occurs to Max that this could all be a trap, like in prison movies when the bad guys shoot the convict trying to escape.

  Before long, they enter a small clearing by a dirt road. In that open space waits a muddy 4x4 with knobby wheels, maybe one of the same vehicles Max saw back at the lighthouse. On the seat there’s a Hefty bag, and for an instant, Max thinks Charity has gathered supplies for them. But then the bag shifts, turns, and Max sees that in fact it’s a little girl, the one who looked at her before from the porch. Draped in her garbage bag poncho, she’s clutching a ratty stuffed animal, so mangled it’s hard to tell if it’s supposed to be a bear or a bunny or a dog. On the child’s head is a red football helmet—three sizes too big—with HACKBERRY RAMBLERS emblazoned on the side.

  Max says, “Now what the hell is this?”

  It’s Eli who answers. “Sabine?”

  Charity turns to him. “How you know her name?”

  He walks over to the girl. “What’s she doing here?”

  Through the face mask, Sabine’s eyes float over all three of them, as if she herself is wondering this very thing. Charity says, “She’s my favor. You got to take her with you ’cross the bridge.”

  Sabine says, “I’m supposed to stay with you, Mommy.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Charity says. “I’m your cousin, not your momma.”

  “No way,” Max says, backing away. “I’m not gonna be in charge of some kid. She’ll just slow us down. No way. It’s probably kidnapping.”

  “You ain’t kidnapping her,” Charity says. “You’re saving her.”

  Eli’s chest expands as he takes in a big breath. Max sees something shift in his eyes as he stares at the girl. They’ve taken on a strange shine. He says, “Max. Charity’s right. We should take her.”

  Max says, “Now who’s jumping the gun? She belongs with her own people. We’re going to have enough trouble getting off this island ourselves. We’ve got to think of what’s best for us.” She knows how selfish this may sound, and she feels judged by the way Eli and Charity look at her. She asks, “Why don’t you take her?”

  Charity hangs her head. “My momma, crazy and stubborn as she may be, she needs me. With all my little cousins, we got over a dozen kids out here. I got the old preaching bus running all right, but the Ford truck I’m dealing with, she’s ancient and finicky. I’m trying to piece together something with parts from your Jeep, jerry-rig the starter—and I’m close. But the radio says this storm’s moving all kinds of weird ways.”

  “My Jeep,” Max says, imagining it in pieces. “Why didn’t you just drive out in that?”

  “Not near enough towing power for what we need to haul,” Charity explains. “I couldn’t talk Momma into calling for help, or letting Percy drive the kids north in the bus ahead of us. She says the Lord insists we all stay together.”

  Max asks, “So once you got this Ford running, you’re going to make a run for the bridge?”

  “No, no,” she says, shaking her head. “That’d be way too sane. Just town. Momma says the higher ground will be enough. She says God don’t intend for any of us to leave the Shacks.”

  Eli lifts his hands, palms up. “Higher ground? In town? This island’s basically flat.”

  “I got no argument with you.” Charity shakes her head again. “We got some real young ones here—Judge’s kids, plus a handful left behind by my damn uncles few years back when they hightailed it. Sabine here, she’s kind of unclaimed. I usually look out for her. But I can’t now, so that’s why you got to take her. She’s the littlest. Plus, she’s … different.”

  They turn to her, huddled inside the shiny black plastic of the garbage bag. Max asks, “Different how?”

  “Different in all kinds of ways. Give me your word you’ll take care of her, and I’ll give you the key.”

  Max turns to Eli. “Forget this. Let’s just take off.”

  Eli puts a hand on her shoulder, which is trembling with the chilly rain. “We’d never make it hiking back to town. It’s near six miles, and the iron bridge might already be up. Plus, just look at this kid—she’s a scared little girl who needs our help.”

  “I ain’t scared,” Sabine insists, clinging to her soaked stuffed animal.

  “And think it through, Max. Say by some miracle we get across the bridge. Then we’re on foot with another six miles easy up to Hackberry.”

  Max shrugs, surrendering to his logic.

  Eli bends down in front of Sabine. He points at the stuffed animal and asks, “Who is that?”

  She extends her arms with the plushy sock toy. “Jasper. He’s a muskrat. Mother Evangeline sewed him for me herself. He’s magic. Nothing bad can happen to us as long as I have him with me.”

  Eli nods. “That’s good to know. You hold Jasper tight.” He turns to Max. “We’ll put her in between us, so you’re in charge of that backpack for now, okay?”

  Max looks down at the ATV, where the rusted chain Charity beat her Jeep with is wrapped around the headlight.

  Eli holds out an open hand, and Charity drops the key in his palm. He climbs behind the steering bar and tells her, “I can’t be sure, but from the sound of it, I don’t think the starter’s your problem at all. Give that flywheel a look. I’d guess she’s missing some teeth. If you put a file to it, you might advance the timing enough. Maybe.”

  Charity steps back and nods.

  Sabine clambers up behind Eli, and Max sees Charity looking at the girl. Max surprises herself when she says, “We’ll take care of her. I promise.” Then she settles on the back of the ATV seat, reaching around the girl to hold Eli’s hips. Under her breath she says, “This all just seems like a desperate plan.”

  Eli cranks the key. “Right about now, desperate’s what we got to work with.”

  RACING EAST ON INFINITY ROAD, SLOSHING THROUGH FLOODWATER, I shouldn’t be smiling. Not with this wild windswept rain swooping in left and right, swirling around like Celeste’s decided it’s her number one mission as a hurricane to knock this little ATV into a ditch. Not with the dark clouds overhead finally opening up, releasing great downpours of raindrops like millions of tiny bombs. In between each assault, there’s a quick spell of calm, just enough so you can get a good breath and think maybe that’s the last one. Then another deluge, and it’s a lot like being underwater. Charity’s ATV is a total piece of crap, and even if we weren’t out of our minds driving through the opening act of a Category 5 hurricane, I’d still need to fight the steering to keep it straight. Oh yeah, and of course there’s no way of knowing if that bridge is still down or if we’re stuck on this doomed island.

  But even with all that, I can feel my smile, so wide across my face that my cheeks hurt. Because right now, with Sabine’s tiny arms wrapped tight around my waist, with Max behind her pressed into me too, I’m sure in my purpose. This feels like the flip side of the way I felt before, up on the lighthouse. The hopelessness that settled in me then, the emptiness of that other Eli, it seems like somebody else’s nightmare. It feels like the world, or fate, or God has seen fit to give me another chance. This time, some inner voice whispers, you’ll get it right.

  The gulf has swallowed the beach whole and made its way up to the edge of the street. Each wave that comes in runs a little deeper up onto the asphalt. I’ve got the headlight on, and a weak beam shines out into the gray, showing me lines of driving rain.

  As much of a rush as I’m in, I’m trying not to go too fast. Me and Max don’t have helmets, and a wreck’s the last thing I need.

  Sabine’s tiny arms stretch all the way around my belly, where her fingers fold together, like she’s praying. From the way back, Max cups her hands over my hip bones, and I can feel her squeeze tighter when the ATV fishtails a bit on one curve. She hollers, “Careful!” and I’m su
re she wishes she were driving.

  The only reason I know we’re coming up on the Chains is because of the hand-painted sign along the side: ROAD FORMS ONE LANE. Right at the sign, before the road dips, I pull over and let the engine idle.

  “Why’d you stop?” Max hollers into the storm.

  I drop my boots into half a foot of standing water and point ahead of us. “See the road there?”

  “No,” she yells.

  “Me neither,” I shout back. “Now you know my problem.” The gulf has claimed the Chains, burying it with the tide. “I was worried about this.”

  Sabine says, “Jasper wants to know what’s wrong. He’s getting really upset.”

  Max faces the stuffed animal. “ Jasper, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.” She doesn’t sound convincing.

  Gray as it is, I can’t make out the far side of the Chains. There’s no reference point for me to aim at to keep straight. “If we drive off the side, we’ll tip for sure,” I offer to no one but myself.

  “I can’t believe the road is gone,” Max says.

  Sabine giggles. “It’s not gone, silly. It’s just under the water.”

  Max taps my hip. “Kid’s got a point.” With that, she climbs off and sloshes up to the tree line, ignoring my yelling at her to get back. For a minute, she disappears into the darkness, and when she returns, she’s holding a walking stick. She comes up close to me and says, “Don’t crowd me. But stay close.”

  I’m not entirely sure what she means, but then she walks into the dull shine of the ATV’s single headlight. She gathers herself for a second, then real slow starts forward, swinging the stick along the road under the water like a blind man.

  “She’s brave,” says Sabine, leaning around me to have a look while still clinging to my waist.

  “More like insane. But it’ll do.” I throttle the engine and stay about a car length behind Max. She wades along, the water ebbing and flowing from her shins to her thighs with each wave. As she gets more confident, her speed picks up, so I need to go a bit faster. The knobby wheels chop and churn the foamy water like paddle wheels on an old river steamer. I try to keep the headlight shining in front of her, and it catches on something bobbing in the water. Max holds up a hand and hustles forward, bends down for the dark shape. When she straightens and turns, she’s holding a small red cooler, the kind an oil rig worker might use for lunch. With a shrug, she heaves it back into the water, where it plunks and floats away. But then it rises up, higher than it should be, lifting in the dark like it’s levitating. By the time I holler for Max, she’s already high-stepping back my way. I reach over the handlebar for her with both arms just as the rogue wave sweeps in. My two hands lock on one of her wrists, and I can feel her weight taken up by the water as it tries to drag her inland. Her face, panicked, disappears in the wash as she goes under, and the wave sucks hard at her body. But I don’t let go of that hand.