I woke in a cold sweat. It was pitch black out, and quiet. Too quiet. The only sound the odd sloshing from my waterbed, the air bubbles from the last time it was filled making their ominous music as I throw my feet over the side of the bed. The infamous calm before the storm.
I slid out of bed, pulling on the sneakers tucked under the bedside table, and pulling a nearby sweater over my sleep tousled hair, covering my mickey mouse tshirt. I pocketed my cellphone, and made my way downstairs. Buck was already awake, standing patiently by the door, waiting for me. He knew what was coming. He was ready. I took his harness down off the peg on the wall, and he let me put it on him, his training so good, only the full body tremble belied his anticipation to get to work.
I grab my pack, always fully stocked, and ready by the door, and throw it over one shoulder, and my heavy leather jacket over the other. “Alright, Buck, let’s get to work.” He jumps up to open the door, the lever handle no obstacle for the massive husky shepard cross.
Our first task, is the hardest, the waiting. We head to the storm shelter just as the breeze stirs the fallen leaves on the ground. “It’s coming, Buck,” I intone, and open the doors to let him in. I won’t latch them yet, there are neighbours who will likely be joining be before the storm reaches it’s apex.
My shelter is well stocked. They don’t call me the Storm Momma for no reason. At the entrance, the walls are bare, belying the well stocked depths, but nothing at the front will weather the storms initial tantrum. Though some kids have done a lovely mural on the concrete walls. Pandas and unicorns make for a cheerful juxtaposition for the serious purpose of the bunker.
I walk to the back of the bunker, to where the cots are waiting. We prepped them earlier in the week, knowing that the storms were coming. I wipe my shoes with a towel and Buck’s feet, and we both hunker down on a cot, cuddled close, waiting for the action to start.
The rain has started. I’m vaguely aware of it in my doze state, as my body seeks to get as much rest as it can before I tax it to it’s limits.
Hushed voices enter the bunker. “Maria’s got to have her rest, Sweetie, so she can do her job. Let’s lay down and get some sleep, too.”
I feel the cot shift slightly as Buck creeps over to curl up with the newest arrivals. “Traitor,” i think wryly, and pull the blanket to cover the cold gap he’s left in the covers.
The wind has picked up, my hair is tickling across my face. I haul myself to my feet and Buck lifts his head from Susie’s lap, watching me. I signal for him to stay, and nod in silent greeting to Susie’s mom, Claire, and Ted and Maggie who have also arrived. Only ben is missing, but he may have been out for the night, he often was. Ted follows me to the doors to help me close them against the wind, and latch them tight with as little muss as possible.
The solar charged running lights along the floor and ceiling throw harsh shadows over everyone’s faces.
“Is it coming?” asks Susie, who we were all hoping was still asleep.
I sit on the edge of their cot. “Ya, Suze, it is. But we’re safe here, kay?” I reach out to stroke her hair, meeting her mother’s eyes over her head. Her eyes have gone empt and her face has that hollow look it gets whenever she thinks about last year’s storm season. I let my mind follow her down the path of that memory.
Buck had hated me for not letting him dive in that pool, but I knew there was no way he could get to the toddler struggling at the bottom of it. The tree that pinned him to the bottom was too big, with too many snarling branches. If he hadn’t gotten snarled up on his way down, he would have on the way back up, and that was of course assuming he didn’t drown before he realized that he couldn't get the child unpinned. I had to hold Buck while one of the other rescue volunteers held the boy’s hysterical mother.
I had never been one to say I told you so, but this was one of those moment’s when it was hard not to, as I swallowed my own bitter tears, my heart breaking right along with her’s and Buck’s. I had TOLD her it wasn’t safe to be out yet! I had TOLD her there was too much damage to those trees! We had all watched with surreal horror as the damaged oak split down the centre and fell towards to pool....and the toddler...
Thankfully, Suzie and her mother didn’t hate me for not saving her brother. In fact, they sort of idolized me, like some sort of prophet or saint. Sainte Maria. Ya, like I’d never heard that one before....
Suzie yawned and nestled back against her mother. I patted Claire’s hand has I stood to return to my own bed. I pulled my headphones out of my bag, and turned on my MP3 player, ready to drown out the worst of the storm. Buck would wake me when it was time to get up.
And he did, nuzzling me until I pulled the cords from my ears and blinked up at him, blearily. “Alright, basket case, I’m up,” I grumbled, despite the fact that he was the calmest one of us all. Suzie was fussing, and Claire had an edge to her voice as she tried to soothe her. Ted was pacing, eager to get in the Jeep and get to town. Maggie was wringing her hands, knowing that her husband was about to go and risk his life to save others.
“Hey Suze! Why don’t you sing us a song?” I ask, levering off of the cot and making my way to the storage shelves, beckoning for Maggie to come with me. While Suzie sang us a few songs she had learned in school, Maggie and I put together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everyone. Claire helped Suzie feed Buck as we handed around cans of Five Alive to wash down the sticky sandwiches. I could smell coffee brewing, and could have kissed Ted for doing his part to keep us all sane and alert.
I wolfed down my food and caffeine, nearly scalding the inside of my mouth with the savoury liquid. “Alright, Boys, lets go.” Both Buck and Ted shot to their feet on my say so.
We got the doors open just fine, and we were all relieved that we didn't have to fight against debris to get out. There was a bad storm last year that had trapped us in here for precious hours while other’s bled or suffocated to death until someone came along to look for me. Who was I kidding, it was Buck they had come for.
Ted pulled a couple of branches off of the door covering the Jeep, and hauled those open. I handed Ted the keys and got in the back with Buck. I would be the eyes, and he would be the ears.
It was only a five minute drive to town the way that Ted drove, but to us three, it seemed like an eternity. We knew how precious every minute was.
The devastation wasn’t quite comparable to last year, they had taken some of my advice to heart about storm proofing. But as we came to a halt at a crossroads, we watched storm worn tree tumble over and crush a nearby cargo van. And then we heard the screams.
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