Page 5 of Hurricane Irene

The men moved toward the window and all said the same thing.

“Shit!”

“Fucking idiot!” yelled Cowboy. “That’s Mr. Babineaux and his damn coon dog.”

“We got him,” said Matt, nodding at his brother.

The two men carefully opened the door to the Sugar Lodge, Ham and Cowboy there to ensure it was shut tight. As they reached the fifth step, they were able to pull the rope of one of the many rescue boats that had been tied beneath the lodge.

Safely secured beneath, it contained very little water and one small outboard motor.

“Help me boys!” yelled the old man. The dog was drowning, shivering from the rain and wind.

Matt directed the boat toward the man, holding the handle of the motor steady, fighting wind and current and rain. His arms flexed to an unnatural size as Kev reached for the man’s boat. He tied it successfully to their own and Matt fought his way back toward the steps.

Ham, Gator, and Rush waited to help the old man and his dog out of their boat, while Kev and Matt tied the two boats beneath the lodge.

“Henry, what are you doin’ out there?” asked Irene. He knew Irene and Matthew and knew their secret. He was one of their oldest and most trusted friends.

“My place started takin’ on water. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“You should have left when we warned you to leave,” said Ham with a stern expression.

“Boy, I’ve been livin’ in these bayous my whole damn life. I know what I’m doin’. That storm out there is nothin’ like I’ve seen before. I passed Tick’s place and it was gone, Irene. Plum gone.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Ham. “When the storm subsides, we’ll all be going out to check on our neighbors.”

Lucy, Sniff, and Violet took the old hound dog to the bathroom area and ran hot water over him in the shower. When they were done, they dried him off and wrapped a warm blanket around him, giving him food and water.

“Is he okay?” asked the old man.

“He’ll be fine, sir,” said Violet. “He’s just cold and scared.”

“He ain’t the only one. I’m tellin’ y’all, this is nothin’ like I’ve seen before.”

“We can find you another place to live, Mr. Babineaux,” said Gator.

“Don’t want another place to live. I’ll rebuild where I was before.” Jethro stared at the old man and then at the others.

“Forgive me, sir, but you nearly lost your life out there because you built you home on sticks, in a bayou, known for flooding and storms. Why?” Nearly the entire room let out a soft chuckle and Jethro frowned at them. “Did I say something funny?”

“In a way,” said Henry. “Let me ask you somethin’ son. You’re a Marine, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You been shot at, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When you was shot at the first time, did you say, ‘well that’s enough I’m leavin’? Or did you say, this is where I’m supposed to be?”

Jethro took in a deep breath and rubbed his massive hand over the top of his head. He gave the man a knowing smirk and nodded.

“Fair, Mr. Babineaux. Sorry for asking.”

“Don’t be sorry, son. I hope you find a place one day where you would risk your life over and over for it. For just the right to breathe the air on the property.”