Her Name Will Be Faith (31 page)

"Holy shit!" he shouted.
But nobody heard him as the words were torn
away by the wind. Although the other two were clearly
having the same
emotions.

Mike tried to think, but could
only understand the imminence of
catastrophe.
He didn't know if they could reach the generator at all with
such a wind battering at them, but even if they
did, how long would the
engine
continue working once salt water got at it? It was a diesel, and
theoretically should run for as long as it had
fuel, oil, water and air, but
he had
never seen one put to the test. And as Lawson had said, the full
force
of the storm had still not arrived – although obviously the wind was
increasing every minute… and the seas were rising every minute, too.

There was a banging sound from the
wall alongside them. Grateful for
the recall, Mike signaled the others back round the
corner, and they
tumbled
through the door to arrive beside Belle, both her hair and her kaftan blowing
in the wind, and wielding a frying pan with which she
had banged the wall.

"What the hell are you doing outside?"
Lawson shouted at her.

"Neal is on the CB," she
bawled back. "They're being flooded. And
Meg's having hysterics. He wants out."

"Oh, Jesus," Mike
growled. He put his mouth to his daughter's ear.
"Okay, tell him we're on our way."

"So rain's getting in. What
the hell is a little water?" Dale demanded
as they crouched in the shelter of the bedroom
wing, looking down the
hill.

"I told them we'd get them
out of there if they called for help," his
father reminded him. "And now they're calling
for help, right?" In fact
he was suddenly alarmed by something he had earlier considered a good
thing – the Robsons' house
was at least fifteen feet lower than his own,
so it didn't have to be rain water that was causing the flood.
"Let's go."

"Crawl," Lawson told them. "Don't
attempt to stand."

By staying on the bay side of the
road, where the land sloped off to the
west, they could obtain some shelter from the wind, and
by keeping as
close
to the ground as possible they obtained even more. Mike was
reminded of trying to stay alive
in Korea, and in every way this was
hardly less dangerous. Lightning was striking all around
them, every few
minutes
a branch would come crashing down, while those that didn't
were whipping to and fro
immediately above their heads. To cap it all
was the thunder booming like a continuous artillery
barrage from close
at
hand, and the rain which thudded into their bodies like so many
bullets.

But they made progress, creeping
along the grass verge of the road to
the dip down to the Robsons, and there falling to their
stomachs in
consternation.
Below them, the sea had already crossed the road. The
full force of the waves was still
being contained by the rocks, although
the surge was so high that spray was being flung over the
crowns of the
tallest
coconut trees. But the overspill of each wave, some two feet of
water, was flowing across the
road, round the Robsons' house, and thence
down the west side of the Point to the sea. Mike realized
that quite apart
from whatever might be
happening at the neck, Dolphin Point was in danger of being cut in two right
here, exactly where the Robsons' house stood.

The others understood that too,
and they didn't have to be told to
hurry. Lawson led the way, in his anxiety standing up, and
promptly
being knocked down by the next
gust, which sent him rolling into the bushes before he came to a stop against a
tree. Mike gazed after him in alarm, but Dale continued on his way, crawling,
up to the flowing water, and then attempting to cross it. It swept him
sideways, but down the
Robsons' drive,
which resembled a fast running river, and up against
the house.

"Oh, Christ!" Big Mike muttered, wondering
if he was about to lose
two-thirds of his
family. But Lawson was sitting up, rubbing his head,
and grinning ruefully at his own stupidity. A
moment later they had
joined Dale against the house; they were so wet
anyway that the fact they
were crouching in
the middle of a stream hardly mattered. Cautiously
they made their way
round the house, and had almost reached the lee,
when they were arrested by a huge ripping sound, as if a giant was
tearing
an enormous telephone book in
two. Lawson recognized it, and looked
up; Dale and Mike followed his
example and watched the roof begin to peel back, like the lid being removed
from a sardine can, while shingles tore off and scattered in the wind.

"Holy shit!" Mike screamed, and reached the
door to bang on it. A moment later it was opened. Inside was dark, as even the
candles had blown out; Neal's generator must have failed only seconds after he
had called for help – no doubt because the sea had reached the shed. Mike
shone his flashlight into the interior, saw the floor covered in water, saw
Meg lying on her face on the settee, a pillow
over head, rocking back and
forth in terror. Neal was by the door,
white-faced and shaking.

"The roof..." he gasped.

Mike nodded. "Let's get the hell out of
here," he shouted. The tearing noise was growing louder.

Lawson and Dale dashed inside and pulled Meg from the
settee. "God!" she screamed. "God! We're going to die. Oh, God,
we're going to die," she sobbed.

"No way," Lawson told her. "But we're
going to get wet."

"Look out," Dale shouted, and the roof
finally went with a gigantic
whoosh,
shattering itself in the trees. Rain and wind and salt spray
descended
on the wrecked house, like playfully destructive giants. Furniture was picked
up, whirled around, and then hurled against the walls. Glass shattered. The
heavy dresser came crashing down. Even Meg's screams were lost in the noise, as
the humans were also thrown about by the spiraling wind, but she was clearly
both screaming and sobbing as Mike and Dale dragged her, and themselves, to the
door and out into the open. For the moment they were again sheltered by the
walls, but that
wasn't going to last very
long, Mike knew, as he heard a tremendous
crash from the windward side.
The house was being systematically demolished. He pointed up the slope towards
his own house, and Dale nodded; the water around them was getting deeper by the
moment.

It was slow going. Meg was too
exhausted to fight any more, either her
rescuers or the elements. She didn't want to do anything
but lie down
with her
hands over her head – and drown. Neal was hardly in better
shape. And once they left the
shelter of the wall they had to contend with
both the wind and the water, nearly a foot deep and rising, increasing
in
force all the time. Slowly and painfully
they half pushed and half dragged
the Robsons up the slope, gaining some
protection from the trees, yet knowing that at any moment one might come down
on top of them; the noise of uprooting trunks almost competed with the howl of
the wind. Mike gave a gasp of relief when a lightning flash revealed that his
house was still intact. But the same flash showed him that water was swirling
around the generator shed. His heart seemed to skip a beat. Here he was,
rescuing his best friends – but what was he taking them to? If the water
continued to rise… he panted in fear, and self-reproach, that he had exposed
his family to this, gave a moan of temporary relief as the door opened to his
bang, and Babs and Belle were there to help them inside.

Here too it was utterly dark, save for an oil lamp
Belle had lit, which guttered and threw weird shadows on the wall. And there was
water on the floor, but this was fresh, rainwater driven under the shuttered
doors by the force of the wind. Mike and Dale carried Meg to the nearest bed
and laid her on it. "Oh, God," she
moaned, while water drained from
her hair and clothes into the mattress.
"Oh, God! We're going to die. I know we're going to die."

Tamsin started to cry, and Babs sat beside her to
comfort her.

Dale and Mike had forced the door shut and shot the
bolts, and Mike
could catch his breath.
"Give Meg a shot of brandy, Belle," he said.
"Come to
think of it, we'll all have one."

Belle poured.

"The house is gone," Neal said, sitting down
with his hands dangling between his knees. "Just like that."

As if they hadn't seen it go, Mike thought.

"Here, drink this," Belle said. "It'll make
you feel better. Dad. Dale. Law..." Her voice suddenly stopped, as she
peered into the gloom. "Where's Lawson?"

"Eh?" Mike jerked his
head. "He was just behind us." He looked at
his son. "Wasn't he?"

"I don't know," Dale
said. "I never saw him after that wind got into
the house."

"Lawson!" Belle gasped. "Lawson!"
she screamed.

"For Christ's sake, he's
just outside." Big Mike wrestled with the door,
and got it open, peered into the
raging darkness. He felt sick. He knew
Lawson
wasn't there.

"You left him behind!"
Belle shrieked. "You left my husband behind!"

"He must have fallen,"
Babs said reassuringly. "He'll be all right.
Lawson is indestructible."

Mike looked at Dale, who looked
back. Anyone who had fallen and
been unable to move in the vicinity of the Robsons' house
would have
drowned by now.

"Indestructible,"
Belle muttered. "He said so, by the bridge. But he's
out there, maybe hurt." Her
voice started to rise again. "I must go to
him."

She ran for the door, and her
father caught her round the waist. "Don't
be a fool. You'll be killed."

"Lawson is out there!" she screamed at him.

"I'll go see. I'll get him," Dale
volunteered.

"No," Babs snapped. "No way!"

"He's my husband!" Belle snarled at her.

"And Dale is my son," Babs snapped back.

"We have to try," Big
Mike said. "Come on, Dale." He shuddered as
he opened the door. The thought
of facing the horror out there was nearly
more
than he could stand.

But even worse was the horror
looming in the comparative safety of the building. His family was beginning to
disintegrate. And the house
too. Perhaps
they were all going to die – not only Lawson.

"Reports from the
Bahamas," said the NABS newsreader, "are uncertain
at this time as to the full
extent of the damage caused so far by Hurricane Faith. The capital, Nassau,
seems to have escaped the worst of the storm,
which passed more than 50 miles to the east of
New Providence Island,
although there has been considerable damage from the very heavy
rainfall,
and also
the storm surge. It seems certain that Cat Island, Long Island,
and the Exuma Cays have all
suffered extensive damage as well. However,
it is feared that the worst effects of the storm may have
been felt on the
large
island of Eleuthera, as owing to the late alteration in Faith's course
the eye passed over the very
center of the island, at about two o'clock this
morning."

"Oh, my God," Jo whispered, sitting and
staring at the screen. Owen Michael reached out and clutched her hand. Neither
had done more than
doze in their chairs all
night, waiting desperately for news, which had
never come.

"All contact has been lost with the northern half
of Eleuthera," the
newsreader continued,
"but it is estimated that in the vicinity of the eye
the wind force touched 130 miles an hour, and the
results could have
been catastrophic.
I have with me here our weatherman, Richard
Connors. Good morning,
Richard."

"Good morning, Dave." Richard, Jo knew, had
been on duty all night, but he looked fresh and clean-shaven, if unusually
serious.

"Now, Richard, first of all, can you tell the
folks what sort of weather
those people on
North Eleuthera might have experienced, at the height
of the
storm?"

"As you've just heard, Dave,
there would have been exceptionally
heavy
rain." Richard spoke into the camera, looking directly at Jo.
"Accompanied by almost continuous thunder and lightning."

"How about the wind?"

"130 miles an hour,"
Richard said. "That is enough wind, Dave, to
blow a man off his feet, and then some. Enough to
overturn any mobile home. Enough to blow or suck out any unshuttered
window."