“It’s moving fast. Won’t stick around.”
“That’s a good thing,” she says.
There’s a crash from the other room and someone screams. Looking down the hall, I call, “Do we need to come back there?”
“Everything’s fine,” Roxanne calls back.
“Good.”
Sam and I check the bathroom, but it’s sealed up tight. In my bedroom, everything looks good. Everything that can fit into a plastic container is in one. My books are all in waterproof bags and containers, just to be safe. As we’re standing there, something slams outside of the house, and water starts spraying into my room. Sam gets hit with it, but she doesn’t flinch. Running to the window, she slams her hand against the new crack. I go back to the bathroom for a towel. Bringing it back to the bedroom, I see what’s happened. The hurricane shutter has come off the fastening on the wall side and is slamming against the window. Something obviously hit the window hard enough to crack it. Standing here, watching Sam hold the towel against the crack, I’m stunned by the way the window itself is moving in and out. The glass is bowing with each huge gust. With the roar of the wind over our heads, I’m torn about whether to brave the storm to fix the shutter, or risk more damage by letting it go.
Putting my mouth next to Sam’s ear, I yell over the roar of the storm. “Do we need to go fix this?”
“We need to do something,” she yells back. “I don’t want this glass breaking all over the room.”
“Tape the glass.” Running back to the kitchen for a cardboard box from the storage closet, I stop for a second to see what had made the crash.
“It’s nothing,” Roxanne assures me. “Mandy tripped over the cooler and fell.”
Mandy is sitting in a chair with her leg elevated on a stool. Jackie is holding an ice pack over the woman’s ankle. Rolling my eyes toward the ceiling, I turn away without comment. Rummaging in the closet until I find a box, I smile at Roxanne. “Hold down the fort, gorgeous. Sam and I are taking care of business.”
“My heroes,” she says.
“Was that sarcasm?” I call back over my shoulder as I walk back down the hall.
The towel in Sam’s hands is soaked through. She takes it off and water immediately starts pouring into the room again. It looks as if someone is standing directly outside the crack with a fire hose.
“Horizontal rain,” Sam says. “Cool.”
“Cool if it isn’t your bedroom,” I reply.
I slam a plastic bag over the crack, holding it against the window. The window shudders under my hand. It feels like it will break at any moment. “Damn, weren’t you scared you were going to get a face full of glass?”
We both jump as the storm shutter slams back into the window. I have both hands on the window now and it’s shaking so hard, I can feel it jarring my shoulders. Sam whips her duct tape out again and tapes the plastic against the window. Once that’s done, we both back away. It’s visibly shimmying, but I think it will hold. Another slam of the shutter and we hear another cracking noise.
“Help me get this box torn up,” I tell Sam.
We tear off a big piece of cardboard and put it against the window. While I hold it, Sam carefully surrounds the entire thing with duct tape. Once that’s in place, I feel a little better. The whole assembly is still blowing in and out, but at least the cardboard should contain the glass.
“We’re probably going to have to secure that shutter,” Sam says as it bangs up against the window again.
“Secure it or take it down, whichever is faster.”
There’s a click, and a kind of whooshing noise. “Here it comes,” Sam says.
All of the lights go off. “There it goes,” Sam says, laughing. “I don’t suppose you brought any of those flashlights in here with you.”
“There’s a whole shitload of them in the crate in the kitchen.”
“Perfect, oh Master of Preparedness.”
“That’s not even a word.”
“It is.” I can hear her shuffling around in the dark. “And lucky for you, I am uber-prepared.”
A light shines in my face. Sam has a tiny flashlight in her hand. Directing the beam at the window, she says, “I think that’s the best we can do for now.”
“Me too. Let’s go into the kitchen and get a real flashlight.”
“Don’t mock it,” she replies. “It’s saving your bacon right now.”
“Bacon sounds good right about now,” I say.
“Mmmm. Bacon.”
We walk back down the hallway toward the glow from the kitchen and dining room area. Roxanne and Susannah already have all of the battery powered lights scattered around. Esmé is handing out flashlights to everyone.