Hugh Howey - The Hurricane

Maybe it was all the emotional outpouring of the last few days, the thrill of the unknowable future rushing at him blindly from behind, not knowing when he’d go to school again, not knowing when he’d watch TV again, not knowing when his cell phone would come back to life and continue its unringing mocking. It could have been any or all of these things that caused him to do the unthinkable, the laughable, the it-only-happens-in-the-movies:

He reached over and grabbed Anna’s hand.

It was so easy. It was like he couldn’t not do it. He felt her warm and soft palm against his own, felt her small and dexterous fingers curl around his, accepting . He rubbed his thumb up and down the back of her fingers, marveling at how simple and correct the harmless act felt. Some kind of raw power surged through him, a joy that threatened to burst out through his chest if his heart couldn’t contain it. Then Anna tilted her head to the side and rested it on Daniel’s shoulder, and she made the unimprovable better .

The world slid into the past. The future came at them blindly. With the wind drowning out the sound of the blinker, the stops and turns took them by surprise, causing them to stiffen and brace for what came next. But they remained like that, leaning on one another, hands caressing hands, fingers learning how they interlocked, and Daniel realized that if it was happening so fast, it wasn’t because of anything apocalyptic. He realized that Anna had been waiting just as long for him as he had been for her.

As they rode slowly through town, Daniel was glad for the extended tour and the leisurely pace. He could’ve ridden in that Bronco forever.

They passed a gas station with a line of vehicles all trying to get to a single pump. The rattle of a portable generator and the sight of a man in coveralls working the nozzle gave them a bit of hope that civilization could reopen for business, albeit slowly and at a trickle.

Two police cars sat outside the Save-Mart, their blue lights flashing in circles. There was yellow tape over the front glass, which was patched with full sheets of plywood.

“Storm damage or looting?” Daniel asked.

Anna let go of his hand to grab the edge of the rear window and peer out. “I hope storm damage,” she said, but not too convincingly.

Daniel rubbed his hands together. He felt the residual heat from her skin touching his. He glanced at Anna’s hand and had the powerful surety that he could grab it again if he wanted. It was a new power, like waking up one morning to discover you could fly. He could touch someone in a loving way and have them not flinch, or think him a creep. They would even reciprocate.

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.