Chapter 26

The water had climbed three-quarters of the way up the stairs. The storm continued unabated. The house, full of water, acted much like a sea anchor. And like a sea anchor it had moved. The surging Gulf of Mexico surrounded it.

The forty-plus people that filled the open portions of the second story were very calm, surprisingly so, as though they knew the storm was fate and their only place was to survive it, those that could, not to rail against it.

They were divided between four rooms, a library and a setting room, which linked two bedrooms. The rooms were arranged rectangularly around the staircase. Directly behind the stairs was the sitting room, flanked by the two bedrooms that extended on either side of the stairs, past the landing. The whole front on the second story was taken up by the library, it being the largest room, it contained the largest group. It was crowded, hot and humid. Al stood near the door leading out to the stairs.

At the front of the room stood the old man; he was showing off his house. The front wall was almost entirely made of glass, not panes, but a single, great sheet of glass. He and many others pressed forward to look out into the storm. They saw houses drift by, stray dogs still afloat, and people holding onto anything they could grasp.

The house moved. Shrieks filled the house and then silence. The candles, hand held, shook. The house groaned and creaked. They listened to the house, to see if it would hold. It whined and cried at the storm as though it were dying. It shifted again, the flickering flames danced in the silent hands. The house still held onto its foundations.

It all happened so fast, all at the same time. Al stood at the door, at the back of the room and saw everything.

The storm was a mighty, low-pressure system. The atmospheric pressure inside the library was greater than that outside and the difference became so great the huge window was sucked outward and the following rush of air pulled with it the old man and more than ten others including the brother and sister. They went screaming out through the great hole in the wall as the storm roared in.

The room plunged into blackness, the wind and rain killing out all the lights. There was a moment when Al could see nothing and hear only the rage of the storm, but his eyes adjusted fast enough to see two floating railroad freight cars, still linked and driven by the storm, as they crashed into the house.

The collision ripped out a large corner of the library. Tearing their way through the right side of the house the cars spilled the contents of the rooms on that side of the house out into the ocean. The freight cars' impact, added to the force of the ocean, moved the house off of its foundations and set it adrift. It began to sink.

The water rose rapidly in the upper rooms as the house went under. There were seven others with Al in the one room. He called to the rooms behind but heard no answers. He was forced to assume that all the others were gone, joining the storm.

“Let's get out of this room before we get trapped here!” Al screamed to the others above the roar of the wind. He pointed to the gaping whole in the wall where the window had once been and he headed those left in that direction.

With him were the black woman and her two children who had been with him during the tile storm, the tattered white girl still hanging close to the black mother. There was also a pregnant woman, her mother and a very young baby boy. They all waited for Al.

He stopped at the window and shouted, “We've got to try and climb out onto the roof. It's our only chance. If we get caught in here we'll all die.” No one argued the point.

Al was the first one out, testing the way. The wind ripped at him, the blown rain felt like needles as it struck him. There was a rain gutter just above the window opening. He was able, with its help, to pull himself up onto the slick tile roof. Many of the tiles were missing, possibly some of those he had experienced before.

The first to follow was the white girl. The black woman thrust her outside and Al pulled her up beside him where she clung fast. Next the woman sent up her own children. Once on the roof the daughter held to the roof tiles as her brother held on to her.

Al heard an argument below. He could not make out what was being said, the wind blew the voices away from him. He shouted down, “Send the old woman up next, then the boy! This is no time for a damn fight!”

The old woman was quickly out of the room and on the roof where she clung beside the three children. The boy was passed up and given to his grandmother, then the pregnant mother was out. She looked as though she could deliver at any time. Al hoped not.

The window opening was now below the water line as the house sank rapidly. The black woman had to dive under the sea and swim out the hole. When her head broke the surface she was within easy reach of Al, he pulled her on to the roof. They were safely on the roof, and lucky to have made it.

The house continued to sink until the air trapped in the attic created a buoyant effect, and stabilized its sinking. It began to drift about in the ocean that covered Galveston, driven by the terrible winds and eddying currents. The rain fell heavily.

The seven lay prone clinging tightly to each other and to the roof. Where the roof tiles had been blown off provided the best handholds. Here there were exposed tile edges from where desperate fingers could not be easily loosed. The two black children and the lone white girl, who seemed oblivious to the storm now, either from shock or from some mental deficiency, held to the mother. She lay close to Al on his left; to his right were the pregnant mother, her son, and then her mother. Everyone hung on for their own lives, but several times the thundering wind would loosen a tile or a hand would weaken and someone was near being blown off their perch. Then one of the others had to brave the wind, holding on with only one hand, sometimes releasing their hold completely, so that they could reach out a saving hand. The hand most often was Al's.

The house, swirling, floating about in the storm, lurched sharply. Above the roar that was the wind and rain a loud snap was heard and the roof bounced up into the air several inches, settling back down into the sea, floating at a higher level than it had floated a minute earlier. The roof now canted over to the left, where it was ten inches lower than the right side.

They had been hanging onto their buoy in silence, saving their energies for the taxing, life preserving clutching of the tiles. The roof of the house popped and bounced upward and returned. The pregnant mother screamed as she hit hard against the tiles with her tautly filled abdomen. She cried and her body was racked with the pain of a contraction.

Al saw it in her face, the fear of the impending birth. He also saw her loosening grip. He reached out and grasped her left hand with his right and called out loudly into her ear above the shout of the storm, “It'll be alright! We'll all help you!” he found himself lost for words. In this storm, having a baby, what could he say to comfort this woman? He held her hand strongly in his. She tried to smile back into his face.

Chapter 27

Al was buried deep in the ocean beneath the tiled roof that had supported him. They, Al and the roof, had turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Now he supported the roof on his back. The cold, hard, tiles pressed into him. He turned in the water and put his hands onto the tiles. Which way was up?

His lungs began to ache. Al was not used to holding his breath for long periods of time, how do you know what to prepare for in life? The more the pain in his chest increased, the faster his mind raced. He could try floating? He could try dying! He might not float up in time!

- Panic! - That was his thought. The tiles, they are laid one on top of the other beginning at the roof's edges, their ends should be pointing upward, now that the house was upside down! He felt for the ends of the roofing and found his direction. Hand over hand he leaped his way along the roof toward the surface, and air.

Breaking the surface alongside the eves of the house Al gasped for air. Catching his breath he looked about for the others.

Not far from him he saw the black woman with her two children already safely on board the new life preserving raft, the upturned roof. They were pulling the pregnant woman into their stronghold. Al hoisted himself out of the water and onto the joists that crossed the underside of the roof. Lowering himself down below the joists onto the rafters he crossed, ducking below the joists, over to help with the woman.

The two children were of no assistance to the black woman as they pulled on the arms of the screaming woman. Al took over for the two kids. They brought the woman up out of the water.

She screamed and withered on the upturned roof. Al could not understand her at first. The two children rushed over to their mother and clung to her in fright. She stood a little away from the screaming woman.

“My Baby, My Baby!” Al made out at last. He motioned for help from the black woman as he knelt down to sooth the woman. He held her tightly to his chest trying to calm her.

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“Shhh... Shhh...,” he said rocking her slowly back and forth. “We'll help.”

“My baby, where is he?” she screamed at Al.

He had forgotten about the boy, and the grandmother, and the white girl. They were still in the water somewhere! He gave the pregnant woman over to the black woman and rushed to the side of the roof peering out into the blinding storm for those lost ones. Behind him there was a great scream of pain. He turned and saw that, with the black woman's knowing help, the woman was beginning to give birth.

Out the corner of his eye Al saw something. He turned back to the ocean and saw it! The Boy! Al leaped over the eves of the house and out into the sea.

The ocean was a swirling mass, filled with debris of all sizes and shapes. It was much harder work forcing a passage through the flotsam than through the storm, but Al, at last, reached the boy.

He was still alive! Al grabbed one of the little boys hands and began to strike his way back to the roof. He worked the boy onto his back, freeing his own hands for swimming. The boy hung tightly to his neck. They had traveled only a short distance when something heavy, a railroad tie maybe, crashed, wind driven into them. The small boy released his grip on Al and began to slide off of Al's back.

The impact of the collision stunned Al. The boy was almost free from him before he realized what was happening. He quickly caught the boy and pulled him back to his breast. It was then that Al saw where the little boy's head had been crushed by the collision. Ahead of him, on the floating roof Al heard the cry of a newborn baby above the horror of the storm. Treading water in the storm, Al released the frail little body of the boy and watched as the storm moved it away.

Al grasped hold of a large piece of timber, maybe the very thing that had collided with them, and draped himself over it. The distance between him and the roof with its crying newborn increased slowly. Al could not go back there and face that woman without her son.

There on the roof they assumed Al had joined the others who were missing.

Chapter 28

Al was alone. He traveled where the wind and waves drove him over Galveston, cast adrift on the Gulf of Mexico. Except for the wreckage beside him in the water he saw no sign of anyone or the city.

He hung on to the long beam for what seemed an eternity. The storm, its power indefatigable, lashed at his straining hands. The sea repeatedly washed over him and tossed the long beam around like a twig. Time after time Al struggled to right himself, to bring his head back above the water so he could breathe.

It was an exhausting battle. There were times when Al considered letting go, but he held on. He just could not give up and let the storm defeat him. He did not question his reasons. His purpose was to live.

Alone, in the center of the sea, Al saw a light. It lasted only the briefest time then was gone. Rising up as high as he could on the timber he looked around excitedly.

Again there was the small light. Through the storm he saw the light was on the far end of the beam. The rain smashing into the ocean soaked timber created a luminous light. More and more of the short-lived lights sprouted, growing into an eerie light display. It was beautiful. Al watched it spring into brightness then fade repeatedly as fast as the rain fell. Even his hands glowed brightly like speckled gloves.

The pinpricks of light stopped forming as surprisingly as they had started. Al was alone again, drifting.

On the horizon a great display of lightning began. Al had once heard lightning was a sign of the end of a hurricane. He hoped it was the truth.

Dangling below him in the water, Al's feet bumped into something solid. Feeling with his feet he discovered the ground. He struggled to stand up. Holding onto the long beam he stood upright in chest high water. Standing he could see the vague outlines of higher ground. The ocean was returning to its true level. The storm was over.

Al began to work his way toward the visible land. He finally pushed the timber away and waded onto dry ground. He stood on a high point of ground just above Fort Point. From there he surveyed the east end of Galveston Island and the South Jetty, stretching into the Gulf, protecting Galveston Bay.

With a lightening sky behind him Al turned west and began walking toward the city. There would be much to do there.

Chapter 29

“No, not again.”

Al looked around the semi-dark hospital room. He was alone, lying comfortably in the bed, in his own pajamas, nice and snug under a chenille bedspread. The bed felt especially good to him after his exposure to the storm.

After a few minutes he sat up and reached for the button to call the nurse. He pressed it firmly and a small indicator light on the wall panel lit up, showing dutifully that the nurse had been called. Al thought the panel light simple and plain compared to the lights of the storm. He waited calmly for the nurse to arrive.

She burst into the room like a linebacker. A short, broad woman she said breathlessly, “Mr. Martin! All you all right? We didn't expect you to...,” she paused awkwardly for a second then plunged on, “I had better notify Dr. Peters immediately!” she hurried to the room phone to call the Nurses' desk.

“Nurse, I'm fine,” Al said in way of slowing her down to ask his question. “How long have I been here this time?”

She paused, then answered, “Just over two days.” She began dialing the phone.

“Two days,” he thought. “Time flies when you're having fun.” He smiled. The storm had taken two days of his life. It seemed worth it.

The nurse hung up the phone and said, “Dr. Peters will be here shortly.” She began checking Al's vital signs.

When the thermometer was out of his mouth Al asked, “Is it alright if I call my wife?”

“It's rather late Mr. Martin, three A.M. Let's wait till Dr. Peters shows up and ask him, okay?” She smiled sweetly at Al trying to circumvent his request with her pleasantness.

Al acquiesced to her smile because of the hour. Nurses like patients who do what they are told willingly.

It was five-thirty when Peters entered the room. He checked Al over in a cursory manner, like he knew what to expect. When he finished, he sat down in the chair at the foot of the bed and calmly asked, “Where did you go this time?”

As Al related his latest experience to Peters he wondered what the doctor thought of all this. Did Peters think it happened or that it was made-up?

“I couldn't care less what the man thinks,” Al decided. “I am involved here with something real, something that is happening.”

While he talked Al wondered about the people on the roof with him. How had they fared through the rest of the night? And all the other people in Galveston. The city would be wrecked. There was so much going on there!

Al finished his story and lay back on the bed. He was tired, very tired. Peters stood up, turned to leave. He stopped at the door and asked, “Do you feel like calling your wife?”

Al shook his head no.

“I'll call her,” Peters said and he left the room.

“Why should I call Mary?” he asked himself. “She doesn't believe me. She thinks I'm losing my mind. She probably wishes I would hurry and get it over with.”

“No, if I call Mary we'll just argue about something. Maybe over seeing a psychiatrist. I'm tired of arguing. There is more to life than doctors and hospitals and advertising agencies and marriage. Everyone just wants to think I'm crazy because I have a chance to live and experience a real life. And there is so much work to do there.”

Al lay back in the comfortable bed and looked at the ceiling.

“I am not unhappy with myself,” he thought. “I am not the greatest person on earth but I'm not the worst either. And I am old enough to realize I am not going to conquer the world. Who wants the damn thing anyway?”

Al rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

“I'm okay,” he decided. “I don't need to change me. I just need to change what I do. Maybe change where I live.”

Chapter 30

It was Monday, 8 AM. Al had been back in “Mary's time“ for a little over a day now. He was dressed in street clothes waiting to be released from the hospital. The doctors had found nothing again.

Mary waited in the room with him. She sat in the visitor's chair while he sat leaning back on his elbows with his legs stretched out, relaxing on the unmade bed.

They had been talking about anything and everything except Al's trips to Galveston and his sanity, from the Cowboys loss the day before to the politics in Mary's office.

Al looked at Mary and asked, “Has that Edwards guy given you any trouble at work?”

Mary's eyes never left the purse she held in her lap as she answered, very uncomfortably, “No. I've not seem him anywhere in the office.”

Al laughed a brief snort like sound and smiled. He smiled, more to himself than to Mary, remembering running the bastard out of the house.

“That felt good,” he thought. “Like when I'm in Galveston. To do something real. To make something happen. To be alive.

It's great to live instead of having my life dealt out to me like cards in a game. How can people live that way? I won't live that way again.”

Al's thoughts came back to the room. He looked at Mary and asked, “Well, what do you think of my latest trip?”

Mary looked at Al, startled by the question. Her eyes became dull with moisture. In a voice strained with emotion she said, “Don't talk like that?”

“Don't talk like what?”

“Don't talk like it is something you're proud of,” Mary answered.

“I am proud of it,” Al boasted. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned toward Mary. “Not everybody gets to do what I'm doing.”

“And what are you doing?” she demanded. “You've blacked out four times and then you tell a more wild story than the time before. You've really done something!” She glared angrily at him.

“You are making a mess out of my life Al! I love you but this problem of yours is taking over my life. When we are apart I worried constantly if you are okay. And then when we are together I am afraid to be near you. I never know when it will happen again. And this attitude of yours! You have lost all concept of reality. You're just creating yourself a new life in the past. I need you here in the present. I love you Al. But you need help.” Mary was in tears as she finished.

Al got off the bed and stood in front of Mary. He towered above her. His rage at her disbelief surged through him.

“Yes, I am doing something special!” he shouted. “If you would just listen to me for a minute you might learn something! But NO, 'Al is nuts!' I'm not crazy by a long shot Mary!”

He pleaded, “Why won't you just believe me? I know what happened, it's real! As real as the world we're standing in right now. I probably won't ever be able to explain it Mary, but I've felt the past with my own hands. Tasted it and breathed its air. It's real.”

Before Mary could reply Dr. Peters entered the room. He was one step inside the room before he saw Mary's and Al's faces. He stopped. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge in on you. I just came in to say that you can leave now Mr. Martin.”

Mary stood up and used the doctor's entrance for a comment. “That's alright Doctor. We were just arguing about the past. Al just won't admit all this is illusionary.”

Al glared angrily at Mary. He did not like being discussed like this.

Mary continued talking to Dr. Peters, “You have got to convince him to get help.”

“Mrs. Martin, your husband and I have discussed this and he is adamant. He will see no one. The only option you have is to have him committed. And I don't think you want that either.”

Turning to Al he said, “If you please Mr. Martin, we need this room for other patients.” Dr. Peters turned and left the room.

Mary stared after the doctor. Al walked past her to pick up his things. “Come on Mary,” he said. “Let's go.”

Mary followed Al out into the hall. She was thinking about what Dr. Peters had said, about commitment to Al and of Al.