Page 87 of Hurricane Love

Wylie took advantage of the calm to suck on his vape. His nerves were shot, limbs still shaking from the adrenaline. It didn’t matter how many hurricanes he’d been through, each one hit like a panic attack at some point. He glanced around to survey the damage. It was dark now, darker than usual with the streetlights out. The only source of light was a traffic light nearby that must have had a battery backup.

The streets were flooded, including the parking lot, though the water, thankfully, hadn’t reached the lower apartments yet. The palm trees were either uprooted or stripped of their fronds, all of them leaning in the direction of the wind. There was shit everywhere, branches and yard debris and overturned trashcans. Random stuff too, like a busted Igloo cooler and what looked like the broken hull of a boat.

“Mommy, look,” one of the kids said and pointed. On the sidewalk, which was covered in several inches of rushing storm water, was a big-ass alligator, a 10-footer at least, strolling down the street with its mouth slightly open as if panting like a dog.

“Holy shit, that’s a big boy,” Wylie remarked. “Must have come from one of the retention ponds nearby.” Wylie then noticed a lone man walking down the same street—or rather wading–with no shoes, no raincoat, soaking wet with his hair plastered to his head.

“Is that…” Wylie began to say as recognition took hold.

“Cody Wallace,” Diego confirmed beside him. Diego put both hands to his mouth and shouted, “Cody, Cody, come here.” Cody glanced over and noticed them standing there on the balcony. Diego waved him over, and Cody started jogging across the flooded parking lot, avoiding toppled trash cans and tree branches along the way.

“He doesn’t even have shoes on,” Wylie said to Diego.

“I know.”

“Hey, guys,” Cody said to them both. “How’s it goin’?”

“Cody, what are you doing out in this?” Wylie asked, stunnedby the man’s lack of self-preservation. He was going to be swept into a gutter or torn apart by this wind if he didn’t seek shelter.

“Just headed to my buddy’s place up the road,” Cody said, motioning in that direction.

He was wearing an ankle monitor, which meant that he was on some sort of probation or house arrest, likely for the robbery at the pit but maybe something else. How did that even work when you didn’t have a home?

“Cody, come up here with us,” Diego said.

“Nah, nah, man, I’m good. But I better go before the rain starts again.”

“Hold on a minute,” Diego said. He dashed inside the apartment while Wylie tried again to convince Cody to come inside with them.

“I been in bad weather before,” Cody said. “Ain’t nothing but a little rain.”

“You know this is a hurricane, right? Like a Cat 5?” Wylie said, waving his arms around to illustrate the seriousness of the situation.

“Whaaaat?” Cody glanced around. “I was wondering why everything was boarded up.”

Wylie didn’t think he was joking. “You really got somewhere to go, Cody?”

“For sure. Just up the road. Five minutes. Ten at the most.”

The wind was starting to pick up again, and it wouldn’t be long before it got out of control. Wylie’s senses were on high alert. Diego returned then with an old pair of sneakers, a rain poncho, and one of the sandwiches Nancy had prepared for them before the storm started. He jogged down the stairwell to meet Cody. “Here, take these,” Diego said and shoved everything at him before he could refuse.

“Yo, thanks, man. My dogs are tired from all this walking for real.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to hang here, just until the storm is over?” Wylie asked again.

“Naw, man, I’ll be all right. You two be good, though, and hey, sorry about, well, you know.”

Diego glanced at Wylie briefly before nodding at the man. “Take care.”

“Right on, my man. You too. Keep it real.”

Cody shot them both double deuces, then donned the poncho and slipped his bare feet into the tennis shoes. He unwrapped the sandwich and started eating it as he jogged back toward the road with the yellow plastic of his poncho fluttering behind him like a moth’s wings.

“I can’t believe him,” Wylie said, watching him go.

“He’s a wild card,” Diego said.

The wind picked up again, the familiar gusts announcing the arrival of round two.