Under A Dark Summer Sky Part 17

"I wish we knew where Jimmy was." She tied a scarf around her hair. It was patterned with honeysuckle, his present to her on their first anniversary. He had spent hours choosing it, on a rare trip to Miami, and far too much money buying it. But it had all been worth it to see the expression on her face when she opened the box. "When they catch that Henry Roberts," she said, "I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind."

"If he has any sense," said Dwayne, "Jimmy'll be in Pensacola with his folks." He did not doubt that Henry by now would have dumped the boy somewhere safe, if inconvenient. "And you can thank Henry Roberts for taking him away from this storm. Wherever he is, he's better off there than here. Now come on."

Finally he had everyone and their belongings loaded into the truck. Noreen scooted along the bench seat, Roy in her lap, bags stuffed around their ankles. The headlights shone through horizontal rain so heavy and thick it looked like shards of gla.s.s.

Dwayne held on tight to the steering wheel, which kept trying to twist out of his hands. A couple of times, he thought they were going over, as the two windward wheels left the ground, but the weight of the truck restored its balance. Water sloshed around their feet. Roy, clinging to Noreen's neck, whimpered each time something struck the pickup. Missiles appeared from nowhere, chunks of buildings and trees, fences and tools, suddenly illuminated as they entered the headlights' beams. He had no time to swerve, could only hope they would bounce off. A coconut smacked the winds.h.i.+eld hard enough to craze the gla.s.s, but it held.

Everything receded from his mind except the two beams of the headlights on the flooded, debris-choked road. It all fell away, everything that had so consumed him recently-finding Hilda's attacker, finding Roy's daddy, bringing Henry to justice. It seemed part of another life, someone else's life. There was only the whine of the engine in low gear, the barrage of missiles, and the headlights piercing the darkness ahead. Something strange happened to his sense of time. It had only been a few minutes since they left home, but such was his concentration that it seemed like they had spent their whole lives in the truck, forever trying to reach the safety of the store but never quite getting there. He could see little through the winds.h.i.+eld and instead relied on the tires to tell him they were still on the road.

"Not far now," he said with a forced lightness. "Almost there." The speed with which the storm had overwhelmed the town was staggering. And still the wind blew harder and the waters rose. Dwayne kept his speed low to avoid slamming into something big or flooding the engine. "And when we get there," he said to Roy, "Momma's got a bag full of treats for you." Roy gave him a weak smile. He already had a fondness for sweets, especially orange blossom honey. Just like his daddy, Dwayne thought to himself, then grimaced at the absurdity of it-everything, all of it. Ever since Roy's shocking entrance into the world, he had turned Dwayne's life inside out. "That's my brave boy," he said. To Noreen, "After this is over, everything's gonna be different between us, you'll see."

"You mean that?" she asked, one arm around Roy, the other braced against the door. Her voice shook with anxiety. She really, really hated water and they were now surrounded by it.

"I do." He had said things like that in the past, more than once. The whole business of Hilda's attack had changed him in ways he did not understand or have time to examine. But he did mean it, maybe for the first time. That she still had the capacity to believe him warmed his heart.

He silently urged the truck on. Keep it together, old girl. The water only had to rise a little higher to drown the engine, and then they would be stuck. Totally at the mercy of the beast. G.o.d help anyone out on foot in this.

Chapter 21.

It took all of Selma's strength to put one foot in front of the other. The wind tore at her clothes like Jerome on payday. The scariest thing of all was that, unbelievably, the wind was still getting stronger, the water on the road deeper. In all her years in Heron Key, she'd never known a storm of such power. I'm d.a.m.ned if I gonna die naked in public.

Elmer was gone and so was her bag of necessaries. Eyes narrowed, one hand up to protect her face, the other holding her dress together, she plodded on. Missy and Mama would be at the store by now, she figured, and they'd be wondering where she had gotten to. Rain stabbed like needles at her skin. She'd never seen such rain before. She pictured Jerome back in their cozy little house, asleep with his bottle. Quickly she shoved the picture from her mind. In her heart, she knew it was gone, and him with it. She should feel sadness, but her mind had room for only one thing: left foot, right foot. First one, then the other. Sadness was a luxury to be indulged once she was in a dry room with the lights on and a big cup of coffee in her hand. Then would come the time for sadness.

Already she had pa.s.sed several poor souls who had lost their grip on life. One was buried beneath a collapsed water tank, only the legs visible. Another had a metal beam where her face should be. I did this. I summoned you, Agaou. A fresh start, that's what I wanted for this place. As with everything else, there was always a price to pay for wishes granted. And it looked like the price would be terrible this time.

Stones and broken gla.s.s tore at her. A chunk of coral flew past, narrowly missing her head. She shuffled forward, bent parallel over the rising water. A stuffed rabbit floated by, still clutched by a neatly severed child's hand. Inside the scream of the wind, she could hear other screams, but there was no way to find their owners in the treacherous blackness.

She should be within sight of the store by now. What little she could see through splayed fingers was unfamiliar. All the landmarks were gone. Had she taken a wrong turn?

She cast an eye at the malevolent sky. Selma had never minded storms in the past. She liked the brilliance of the lightning flashes, the fierce boom of the thunder. As a child, Henry had taught her to count out the lightning's distance by the time it took for the first crack of thunder. Hunkered underneath Grace's kitchen table, they had counted together: "One one hundred, two one hundred, three one hundred..." They had squealed with delight when the thunder's boom shook the air.

Are you watching, Grace? Her mother always warned of the dangerous powers to be found in the tattered pages of the old book. But once Selma had tasted them, she had grown bold. There was nothing to do now but face the consequences, however fearsome. She had thought to reshape Heron Key, drain the swamp of bad blood, break the shackles of the past. Well, it was happening all around her. The wind was taking the town apart, reducing it to its basic materials. And she sensed in its destruction a purpose, even a personality, like a gigantic, evil child smas.h.i.+ng its toys in a fit of temper. Of course, it is you, Bade. The loa of the wind shared his duties with Agaou. It meant that Sogbo, the loa of lightning, would not be far away.

Sure enough, just at the moment when she thought to set herself down and wait for the G.o.ds to deal with her, lightning shattered the sky. Something white caught her attention among all the gray and brown and black. An island of white. No, not an island. Faint sounds came from the white thing, barely audible beneath the incessant yowl of the wind. It sounded almost like singing.

She stumbled closer and stopped. I know that uniform. And she gave thanks to Sogbo. "Missy!" she shrieked, loud as her voice would carry, which was usually enough to stop a grown man in his tracks at fifty paces.

Missy raised her head to reveal the small bundle beneath her. Selma sloshed toward her, arms outstretched. "Give him to me. Come on, girl, we almost there!"

Missy handed Nathan to Selma. He started to cry, which gladdened Selma's heart almost as much as if the sun had shown his face right there and then. "Good boy, Nathan," she cooed, baby on one shoulder, hand reaching for Missy.

Missy pushed through the water, uniform caked with mud and weeds, stinking like a swamp. "Oh, Selma," she began, eyes full of tears. "When the ditch flooded, I thought-"

"Ain't got time for that now, Missy. Almost there. C'mon." She put her free arm around Missy's shoulders and propelled her forward in what she prayed was the right direction.

And then it was there, right in front of them, like it was just waiting to be discovered: the familiar outline of Jenson's store. Missy let out a sob of relief. Selma stormed up the steps.

But something was wrong.

A crowd of maybe fifteen people was crammed into the remaining corner of the front porch. They held on to whatever they could find-railings, shutters-anything to keep from being blown into the rising water. Violet was there with her small son, Abe, tucked between her body and the wall of the store. Lionel clung to Ike, whose thickly muscled arms were twined around the only roof post left.

"Where's Mama?" Missy called. "She inside?" No one answered.

Selma tried the door. It was locked. "Let us in!" she hollered. "Let us in!" But the wind tore the sounds from her mouth.

The door opened a crack and Ike put his shoulder to it. They tumbled inside, into the ma.s.s of people packed together tighter than bristles in a brush.

"What the h.e.l.l kind of foolishness is going on here?" asked Selma. "Why the door locked?" The air was thick with the smell of bodies and cigarette smoke and...something else. She searched the faces for an explanation. Trudy Mitch.e.l.l looked like she wanted to murder someone, which was highly unusual. Jenson would not meet her eyes-equally unusual.

Ronald stepped forward. "Because, Selma, as you can see, there's no more room."

"There is always more room," growled Trudy.

"Momma-" Jenson began.

"Trudy," said Ronald, "we agreed to abide by the will of the majority."

"The will of the..." Selma studied the people in the dimness, taut faces s.h.i.+ny with fear. All white. And she knew every one of them, knew more about them than even their own families did. Secrets, they told them all to Selma. They had to, if they wanted her help. No one else knew Warren Hickson had another wife and child in Fort Lauderdale, who he visited every two weeks. No one else knew Cyril's mother, after her eleventh child, put saltpeter in her husband's coffee. No one else knew Ed Henderson spent all his time on the Princess because he was fascinated by one of the deckhands. The secrets twinkled in their eyes, little pinp.r.i.c.ks of light. "And what might that be, Mr. LeJeune?"

Nathan began to wail, as if to remind them he was there. Missy soothed him. "Quiet now, my boy. We safe now."

But Marilee Henderson reached for him. "Give him to me, Missy. You're done in."

"He fine," said Missy and s.h.i.+fted him higher on her shoulder. Her limbs shook with exhaustion, but he weighed nothing as far as she was concerned. She would carry him forever if need be. "We got this far together. We fine," she said firmly.

Ronald turned to Selma. "You must see the sense of it. The shelter isn't big enough to hold everyone, so we have to choose." He paused, as if unsure what to say next. "So I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. We decided, all of us." He gestured to include the whole room. No one spoke. He cleared his throat. "The coloreds...you folks, will have to go."

"Go? Go where, Mr. LeJeune? You know what it's like outside. You'd send us out into that banshee storm?"

Violet sniffed. Abe wiped his nose on her skirt. Lionel put his twig-like arm around her shoulders.

Cynthia said, "Ronnie, can't we-"

"You know we can't, Cindy," he said quietly.

The wind slammed into the building. The force was like the impact of a solid object. Water sprayed through the walls. The lanterns went out. Children cried out in the dark, and women screamed. Someone turned on a flashlight.

"This isn't our way," said Jenson. "These people are our neighbors. We'll make room. We'll- "You idiot, you'll kill us all!" said Ronald. "We made a decision, all of us." The bandage on his cheek cast strange shadows on his face, like it was some kind of malignant growth. The crying subsided into quiet sobs. "It's agreed. We all agreed."

Ike stepped forward into the circle of light. "I should have finished you when I had the chance." There was no mistaking the menace in his voice.

A metallic click. "Take one more step, Ike," said Ronald. "Just one more." The flashlight's weak beam glowed dully on the barrel of the revolver. "I don't want it to be this way. It doesn't have to be this way. Not if you go now. Please. Just go."

Selma looked around but no one met her eyes. The store shook like a die in a cup. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled with the electric tingle of imminent panic. She stared into each face, willing each to remember this moment. Her gaze settled last on Jenson, who looked like a man torn apart from the inside.

She straightened her shoulders. "We going," she said. "And when we gone, y'all best think on how you gonna explain this to your Maker. Because you be seein' him soon, I promise you that. Real soon." On her way past Jenson, she murmured, "For shame."

"Where's Mama?" cried Missy in desperation. "Anyone seen my Mama?"

Violet said, "I ain't seen her since she went to Doc's."

Missy buried her face in Nathan's neck. Marilee stepped forward. "Missy," she said gently, "you've got to leave the baby here, with us. He belongs here. He'll be safe here."

"No! No, you cain't. I won't let you. I-"

But Selma took him from her arms and handed him to Marilee. Nathan howled in distress, stretched pudgy hands out to Missy, and kicked his feet. Selma said, "She right, Missy. You got to leave him. These his people. And he safer here."

And with that, Selma opened the door to...silence.

Traitorous stars shone within a circle of swirling cloud. Their light touched only water, as far as she could see, punctuated by a few blasted trees and pieces of wood, where there should be dry land. Houses, businesses. Just piles of timber and crushed concrete.

"It over!" shouted little Abe. "We can go home now!"

"It ain't over," said Selma. "We under the eye." She made a quick study of the circle of clear sky above them. It was devilishly small, which meant the back side of the hurricane would be upon them soon. She reckoned they had maybe twenty minutes. Probably less. There was only one place she could think of where there might still be room to shelter. "Run, everyone!" she yelled. "Make for the station! Get in them boxcars quick, and stay there!"

"But what about Mama?" said Missy. "I gotta find Mama." She clutched at her empty, Nathan-less arms. "I got to find her." Her bare feet stumbled around in an aimless circle.

"Missy!" But she did not seem to hear. Selma took her by the shoulders and shook her, hard. Missy's eyes were wild with grief, her mind poisoned by it. She had lost too much, too fast. Doc's office was not far. While things were calm, she had time to get there and back. Just about enough time. To be caught in the open, once the eye pa.s.sed over, was... Well, no time to think on that now. Despite the humid heat, Selma s.h.i.+vered. "I'll find her if she at Doc's. You take the others to the station. You hear me? Get in them boxcars and don't come out, not for anything, you understand?" Missy acknowledged her with a nod. "Come on, girl," Selma said. "MOVE!"

As Selma's splashes faded into the distance, Missy looked around at the scared, tired faces of the others refused a place in the store. Old Lionel looked about ready to drop, but he had an arm around a tearful Violet. Something was wrong with Ike. He seemed to be arguing with someone who wasn't there. None of the others were in much better shape. Several had already been hurt on the way to the store.

She didn't want to run anymore. She wanted to be alone, with her memories of Nathan and Henry, and pray for Mama and wait for Selma.

They all stood in a miserable huddle, looking expectantly at her.

A small hand tugged at hers. Abe said, "Selma say you take us."

"Go on," she said. "I be along soon."

But Abe would not release her hand. He began to pull her in the wrong direction. The rail yard was not too far, maybe two miles away, but it would be easy to get lost in the darkness with all the familiar landmarks gone. For her whole life, she'd had an unerring ability to find her way, wherever she needed to go. So much so that the other kids used to leave her deep in the swamp to see if she made it home, and she always did. Just about the only learning she ever got from Billy was how to steer by the stars, but more than that, she could always tell the right way from the wrong way by how it felt.

She cast a look at the sky. The storm's eye had begun to move away. Nothing but darkness behind.

"Not that way," she said. "This way."

And just like that, they were off.

Dwayne had lost his bearings. Impossible to do, he would have said, a few hours before. They should have reached the store by now, but the absence of landmarks meant they could have been driving in circles. There was no beach to use as a reference point. All was wind-whipped water, in every direction.

The truck's wheels thumped into something hard. He tried to back up but there was only the grind of metal on metal. And then a wave broke over the hood and poured into the cabin. They were submerged up to their waists. With an angry hiss of steam, the engine died.

Noreen's eyes told him she understood what it meant. They would have to make it on foot. He would carry both her and Roy. She was far too slender to stand up to the current that barged against the side of the pickup.

Just as he was considering the logistics of this, all went quiet. There were splashes as airborne objects dropped into the water, like puppets with their strings cut. His ears rang with the absence of sound. No wind. Nothing.

He leaned out of the window and looked up to see the malevolent eye circling slowly above them. With each turn, it brought a new bout of destruction closer. The back side of the storm could only be minutes away. Once it arrived, they would have no chance in the open. They would have to stay in the flooded truck.

But Noreen was struggling to open her door. "Come on," she said. "We cain't stay here. We got to be close to the store by now."

He pulled her hand away. "We have to stay here! There's more coming. The truck is big and heavy enough to hold together. Noreen, it's the only way."

Too tired and scared even to cry, Roy had made no sound for some time. His dark eyes were alternately wide with fear and droopy with fatigue. The supplies so carefully packed for him floated in a sodden mess around them.

"We got to get Roy inside," she said. "He's hungry and thirsty."

"Hang on," said Dwayne and plunged his hand into water around his feet. He felt around until his fingers found the outlines of a milk bottle and raised it from the black water with a smile of triumph. "Here you go, my boy."

Roy sucked on the bottle without stopping until it was half-empty.

"That's better," said Noreen and wiped off his milky mustache. She kissed his cheek. "Hard to believe it ain't over," she said. "It looks so calm out there now."

Indeed, without the wind and with the water smoothing over the damage, what was left of Heron Key looked placid, even serene in the starlight. But Dwayne knew beneath the surface lay the wreckage of buildings, homes, and lives. Probably many lives.

"Noreen..." he began. How to start? It felt like there was too much to say and not enough words to say it. "I'm-I'm sorry. I mean, for everything, for-"

"I know, Dwayne," she said and squeezed his hand. It was the first time he had felt her touch for months, maybe since Roy was born. "I'm sorry too."

Something b.u.mped against his door. He looked out of the window and down into the sightless eyes of Dolores Mason, who floated on her back, her red lipstick black against the gray pallor of her face. The current pushed her body into the side of the truck with a solid thwack.

"What is it?" Noreen asked.

"Nothing," he said and sent Dolores on her way with a hard shove. "Just a branch."

The veterans arrived at the train station to find it dark and empty. Trent peered up the tracks for sight of the locomotive's headlight, but there was only rain and wind screaming in the blackness. It should be here by now. Something's gone wrong. In the pale flashlight beam, he could see waves lapping the embankment, which was the highest point on Heron Key. Carl was unconscious and Stan was on the way there, moaning in pain. The post remained in his stomach, on Trent's instructions. He had seen too many men bleed out when such projectiles were extracted by well-meaning comrades. His only chance of survival was to leave the wooden stake right where it was until they could get medical attention...which could be a long time.

A gust caught the roof and tore half of it away. The rest of the structure began to tremble. The realization struck him that even the solidly constructed station would not protect them for much longer. They had to move. He swept the flashlight across the yard. An empty train stood on the siding. The heavy boxcars would be safer while they waited. a.s.suming, of course, the wait was not long. Where is that d.a.m.n train?

But it was going to be tricky to get the men inside, given the strength of the wind. They would have to form a chain to make it across. He explained the plan to the men nearest to him and hoped the rest would follow.

Big Sonny was the first to attempt the crossing. He stepped off the platform into the full force of the wind and was blown off his feet and left clinging to the rail. The rest of the men hung back, unwilling to follow, especially those without the advantage of Sonny's bulk.

The remainder of the station began to disintegrate around them. This was clearly too much for Two-Step, who hollered, "I'm not staying here! There's no train coming for us."

"We've been left here to die!" said Sick Bay. "We've got to save ourselves!"

"Wait!"