Blown Away! Read online

  Dad nodded. “The family made it there before the heft of the storm hit. But the ocean roared all the way up there, too, and hit the building full force. Roy was washed away. They’re searching for him now.”

  I had to see my mother and sister now. “Let’s get to Mom and Star. Quick!”

  We plodded over limbs and trees until we came near the remains of a water-soaked chair, where Mom was stretched out. Her face was swollen and bruised. She held her arms awkwardly, and one leg was folded to the side. “Oh, Mom!” I ran to her to hug her, but she moaned, “Don’t touch me, Jake. I’m hurting so badly, and I think I’ve broken several bones.” She seemed too dazed to cry, but she murmured, “Jake.” I bent down to her, and she kissed me over and over. “Go help Star,” she whispered.

  “She’s over there.” Dad and I raced to the railroad bed, where a wall of the packinghouse lay tipped on its side. Broken boxes were spilled everywhere, and flies were already buzzing and gathering around the rotten fruit. When we came to a large timber that crossed our path, Dad pointed to a hole under the tracks where the water had washed the earth away. “Star’s under there. It’s the central beam of the packinghouse. If we could just move that timber, we could get to her.”

  “Did it land on her?” I was afraid to look.

  “I don’t think so. The beam isn’t directly on her. But if we move it, I’m afraid it could fall on her—or the earth could cave in and she’d be smothered.”

  I bent over and could see just a glimpse of her blond hair and her little hand. “Star! It’s me, Jake.” My voice was tight and I could hardly speak. “We’re coming to get you, Star.”

  When there was no answer, my heart broke in two. “I love you, Star. I’m going to get you out, my twinkle star.” Please, God, I prayed silently, let her be alive. Help me to get her out somehow. “I’m strong, Dad,” I said. “Together we should be able to move it.”

  “Thank God she fell into that cavity. Otherwise …”

  “Come on, Dad. Let’s give it a try.” I tried to ignore my own pain and the blood oozing from the deep scratches on my legs.

  We each took an end of the timber. “Hold on tightly,” Dad said. “For God’s sake, Jake, don’t drop it. If it falls, it will crush Star. And stop immediately if any earth begins to fall on her.” Dad counted. “One, two, three!” We strained to lift the heavy shaft of wood that trapped my sister, but we couldn’t budge it. Dad looked defeated. “There’s no way we can move that beam.”

  Then I thought of Jewel. “Jewel could do it!” I exclaimed. “I’ve seen her pull boats out of the water as if they were toys! If we can get Jewel, I know she’ll help us.”

  “Go! I’ll stay with Mom.”

  I turned and began to run toward Sharkey’s place.

  “We don’t have much time, Jake,” Dad called after me. “Hurry!”

  Jewel is sturdy, and Sharkey would have protected her from the storm, I told myself. They’re both all right. I know they are. Even with his bad leg, Sharkey’s a strong man. And Jewel is powerful. She can lift that beam. They’ll help us. They’ve got to help us!

  23

  THE PROCESSION

  I could hardly recognize where I was as I ran to Sharkey’s. Familiar trees were gone; the pathways that I’d always used were filled with seaweed and broken branches. I had hoped the side of the island that faced Florida Bay was more protected, but the great wave that had come over the island from the ocean had washed straight through to the other side.

  When I arrived at Sharkey’s, I stopped in alarm. The boxcar was tipped over on its side; the sliding door, now on the top, was closed. I looked around the area, and there was no sign of Jewel.

  “Sharkey!” I yelled, hoping to hear Rudy’s happy barking, which always greeted me when I showed up. But there wasn’t a sound.

  I climbed onto what was now the top of the boxcar and tugged at the doors. “Sharkey! Sharkey!”

  Then I heard a thumping from inside. “Jake!” came a muffled voice.

  “Are you okay? I’m trying to get you out, but the doors are jammed.”

  “I’ve been trying to clear the bent metal with this pry-bar.” I heard a grating sound and pounding—along with some grumbling curses. “Now let’s try together!” Sharkey yelled. “One, two …”

  I yanked at the doors again and again until they began to slide apart. Sharkey and I pushed and tugged until they were wide open. I peered down into the topsy-turvy freight car. Sharkey stared up at me from the shadows below. I could make out water and debris on the bottom, where the sea had pushed its way in. Sharkey was standing on a table and holding the lever he’d used to push at the doors. Standing below him was Jewel.

  I couldn’t help but laugh with relief. “You brought Jewel into your house!”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t leave her out in that storm.” Sharkey looked miserable. “But I have bad news, Jake. Poor Rudy …” His eyes filled up. “When we tipped over, the heavy chest of drawers by my bed fell on him.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “He’s gone, Jake.” Sharkey shook his head and turned away.

  My heart sank. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, Sharkey.” Then, as sad as I was, I knew I had to push on. I had very little time to save Star. “Please help me save my sister. She’s trapped under a heavy piece of timber. Only Jewel can lift it, Sharkey. Hurry! Bring Jewel and come.”

  Sharkey wiped his nose on his shirt. Then he nodded. “Well need a plank of some sort to get out of here.”

  “I’ll look for something.” I dashed around searching for a piece of flat timber. The clutter of the storm was everywhere. The old shed was gone. The corral fencing had disappeared. The dock had been tossed up onto the land nearby. Two sections looked about the right size and width for Jewel to get out. I ran back to Sharkey, who was already pulling himself out of what was now the top of his shelter. “Help me bring the dock.”

  Sharkey slid out of the boxcar carrying Jewel’s harnesses and a block and tackle. He looked around at the devastation in dismay, hoisted himself down to the ground, and then walked lamely over to me. I could tell from his limp that his leg must be hurting badly. Nevertheless Sharkey and I were able to carry the pieces of the dock over to the boxcar. We set one section up as a ramp from the ground to the doors of the boxcar. Then from the open doors we pushed one end of the second plank down into the opening, making another ramp for Jewel to get out.

  I made my way down into the dim interior. There was Jewel standing over a small dark form—Rudy, who lay on his side, still and silent. I swallowed back my sadness, took hold of Jewel’s bridle, and led her to the ramp. “Come on, Jewel. Up you go,” I said gently. But Jewel would not move. “You’ve climbed up steep planks in your life, haven’t you, girl?” I murmured. “Star needs you. Come on, come on.”

  Then I remembered. Jewel needed Rudy. Rudy was her faithful buddy. They’d gone together through the fearful wild storm, and now all she wanted was for her friend to be with her.

  I went back and gathered Rudy into my arms and held him in front of Jewel. Jewel sniffed at the dog and whinnied. “It’s all right, girl. Come on.” I couldn’t hold on to the mule’s lead and carry Rudy too. “Follow me, Jewel. Rudy’s here, see?” Still holding Rudy, I climbed up the ramp. “Please, Jewel. Please help us,” I begged.

  When I reached the doors at the top of the boxcar, I looked back. Jewel was placing a hoof tentatively onto the incline. After testing it out, she began her ascent to the daylight above.

  “We’re coming,” I said to Sharkey, who waited on the ground by the second ramp with Jewel’s harness and the rope and tackle he would need to lift the beam off Star. “We need to get to Star right away,” I said. “But Jewel won’t go without Rudy, so I have to take him with us.”

  As we headed back to Star, I clutched Rudy’s limp form in my arms. His once-beautiful tail was matted with water and seaweed.

  Sharkey and Jewel followed close behind me.

  Sharkey’s face was lined with
sorrow, and in the daylight I saw deep sadness in Jewel’s eyes. She walked with her head bent low.

  We formed a small funeral procession, with me in the lead, carrying their best friend.

  24

  “MORE THAN THE WORLD”

  Back at the site near the old packinghouse I laid Rudy down where Jewel could see him. Sharkey hitched Jewel into her harness. I knew we hadn’t really tricked Jewel into believing Rudy was alive; Jewel was the smartest mule in the world, wasn’t she? The sorrow in her eyes made me sure we weren’t fooling her. But something made her willing to help. Did she sense our fear and anxiety? For whatever reason, Jewel stood silent and willing.

  Mom had slipped into a deep sleep. “She’s in a state of shock,” Dad said after taking her pulse. “I’m glad she’s sleeping and not feeling pain for a while. Surely the word is out that we need doctors and medical care. But where are they?” His voice rose. “They’d better get here soon before …” He shook his head and looked away.

  Sharkey stood below a nearby tree that had leafless branches. “This looks strong,” he said. “I’ve got to get this rope up and around a sturdy limb to use for leverage.” He swung the rope over and over, and finally it hooked onto a tree branch. He tested it, pulling the rope until it was stretched tight. “As we lift the beam and that end of the rope shortens through the tackle, Jewel will pull, keeping the rope taut. When Jewel stops, the gears in the tackle will lock, keeping the timber from slipping back.” He fastened the rope and tackle onto Jewel’s harness, and the other end to the timber. “Now if you two can balance each end so the timber won’t tip and slide out of the knotted rope, we’re all set. Right, Jewel?” He patted Jewel’s neck. “Jake, you stand near one end, and Doug, you stand by the other. If it tips at all, you’ll need to level it. It’ll take a lot of strength. Can you both handle it?”

  “We’ll do it, no matter what!” Dad vowed. “Right, Jake?”

  “Right!” I moved to my end and got into position with a wide stance. “We’re coming, Star!” I hollered. “We’re coming.”

  “At the same time we need to be sure the hole doesn’t cave in on Star.” Dad warned. “So watch for any movement.”

  Sharkey went to Jewel and turned her so she was facing the other direction, away from the hole where Star was caught. “Here we go, Jewel. Haul!” Jewel tightened her muscles and began to tug her burden. “You can pull that hunk of wood, Jewel. Pretend it’s just our old rowboat.” Sharkey slapped Jewel lightly on her flank. “Haul, girl!” he commanded. “Haul!” Jewel strained, bending her head forward as she heaved the heavy beam. “Pull. Come on, Jewel, you can do it,” Sharkey urged her on.

  Gradually the timber moved and lifted. I held my breath, watching to be sure my end didn’t tip or fall. At times the giant beam swayed. “Halt! Whoa!” Sharkey yelled, and he tightened the rope and we did our job of balancing. As if she understood, Jewel pulled the rope with cautious, sure-footed strides until the beam was up and turned away from the pile of debris where Star was trapped.

  “Good girl, Jewel!” I yelled as we guided the beam safely to the ground far from my sister.

  We flew to Star. “You’re almost out, honey,” Dad said to her.

  She didn’t answer. I could see her little hand, the fingers bent and still. Star was curled up amidst rubble, her eyes closed, her hair matted with blood and dirt. My throat tightened. Was she alive? Lord, please let her live, I prayed silently.

  I stood back as Dad lifted her from the debris. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. Under the tangled hair we could see a welt and a deep cut. He kissed her. “Estelle,” he whispered. “Our little Star.”

  I looked around for something for her to lie on and recognized a broken stool and other wrecked furniture that had been blown away from our house. Then I tripped over a chunk of soaking wet fabric. Mom’s genuine American Oriental rug! It was heavy with seawater, but I was able to drag it back and lay it on a smooth section of wet ground. At least it was soft.

  “Do you hurt, sweetheart?” Dad asked her.

  Star didn’t answer, but her eyelids fluttered open. She stared up, her eyes empty and without expression. “Star, it’s me, Jake,” I said, bending over her. But that vacant, empty look hit me like a blow to my stomach. “She doesn’t know me!”

  Dad’s eyes were filled with anguish as he placed her gently on the rug. “Just rest, honey,” he whispered.

  I bent over my sister and sang softly to her. “Twinkle, twinkle, little Star. I love you just the way you are.” I kissed Star’s pale cheek and tasted salt from my own tears that had dropped onto her face. “I love you, Star. I love you more than the world. Please come back to us.”

  25

  GOOD-BYE, GOOD DOG

  When Sharkey was ready to go, he placed Rudy’s body on Jewel’s back and led them away. “I need to find a place to bury Rudy,” he said when he left. “If any of you want to stay in my overturned house, you’re welcome.”

  I noticed that Jewel trudged along sorrowfully through the rubble, her head bowed and her eyes sad. Sharkey led her slowly, looking old and anguished, with stooped shoulders and a gloomy, lined face. “Jewel and I will go around town—or what’s left of it—to see if there’s anything we can do to help out,” he told us.

  My mother suffered terribly the night after the storm. We slept outside—there was nowhere else to go, since we couldn’t move Mom to Sharkey’s. I stayed up most of the night, fending off mosquitoes. Finally Dad used some rags and gas he found and made a smudge pot of smoldering embers. I could see smoke from other smudge pots rising against the evening sky. Later, kerosene lanterns burned here and there, and I could hear cries of people in mourning or in pain. They joined in with my mother’s moans, and together it made a sad music that echoed on the barren island.

  But Star was silent. She just lay on the old rug and stared at the sky.

  Since the bridge at Snake Creek was destroyed, the Red Cross medical teams came by seaplane early on Wednesday. One of their nurses, Addie O’Brien, a brisk but kind lady, found us. She gave Mom pills for pain relief until they could get her to an ambulance and hospital. Mom was so badly hurt that she was one of the first on the list of injured who needed immediate medical attention. “She must have surgery as soon as possible,” the nurse told us.

  Addie examined Star. “She has no fever now,” she told Dad, “but she doesn’t respond to any stimulus. This child needs to get to the hospital.” She washed Star with water she brought, cut her hair, and then cleaned and bandaged her head.

  Addie checked me out too, looking down my throat and into my eyes with a light. She put antiseptic on my legs where I cut them shimmying down the tree, and she bandaged my arm, which was bruised and swollen. “Let’s stitch up your forehead,” she ordered.

  I touched my head and felt the sticky remains of blood and jagged flesh. “I didn’t know I had a cut there,” I told her. “Can’t you just wash it off and put on a bandage?”

  “No.” She pulled out a needle and catgut and stitched me up. I was too tired to argue, and besides, it didn’t hurt too badly.

  She worked on Dad, too, stitching up the wound on his head and one on his shoulder. “Your wife and daughter need immediate attention,” she told him, “and you must come as their next of kin. But your boy here will have to stay. We have no room for him on the plane.”

  “I can’t leave Jake behind,” Dad said. “He’s got to come with us. He can’t stay here in this godforsaken place by himself.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” I insisted. “I’ll stay with Sharkey. I can be of help here.”

  “Is he well enough to be here on his own?” Dad asked Addie. “He’s so young, and the island is so badly destroyed. There’s no water…”

  “Your son’s injuries are superficial and should heal on their own,” she answered. Then, turning to me, she said, “There’s a whole tank car filled with drinking water at the railroad siding. It was the regular water delivery for the town. The train hauled
it here just before the hurricane. It’s a godsend. Everyone can use it. You’ll need a clean container to store it, Jake.”

  “I’ll be careful, Dad,” I promised. “You’ve got to take the plane with Mom and Star. Don’t worry about me. Sharkey and I will be okay.”

  Dad looked distressed, but he finally agreed. “I’ll come back to get you as soon as I can—once the bridges are repaired.”

  Addie shook her head. “No guarantee when that will be.”

  “Then I’ll come by boat,” Dad replied.

  Within an hour or so a group of men arrived with stretchers and carried Mom and Star to the shore, where a boat would take them to the plane. I walked beside them, holding Star’s hand and feeling sick inside. Would this be the last time I’d see my little sister or my mother?

  “Will they get well?” I asked the doctor who was at the makeshift dock where the boat waited.

  “I hope so, son,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Pray for them.”

  “I’ll need to know how Mom and Star are doing.” Suddenly tears sprang up in my eyes, and I threw myself in my father’s arms.

  “I’ll find a way to let you know how they are.” He pushed me away gently and put out his hand. I knew Dad was counting on me to be brave as we shook hands. “Be strong, Jake.”

  When I kissed Mom good-bye, she whispered, “I love you, Jake,” and struggled to smile. Then I gave Star a kiss on her pale cheek and waited for a response, but she kept her eyes on the sky and didn’t know I was there. “Please come back to me, Star,” I whispered.

  Mom and Star were lifted into the boat, and Dad got in close behind them. I stood alone and watched as the craft made its way through the storm wreckage out to the waiting seaplane. When Dad waved good-bye as he climbed into the plane, I swallowed hard to hold back the tears.

  The small plane lifted off and headed north. They’ll be in the hospital soon, I told myself. They’ll be okay. I’ll keep busy and help other folks, as Dad said, I repeated over and over. I’ll find Mará. She’ll be alone and scared.