Well, he did warn me. He told me not to go, that they’re saying the storm is going to be a bad one, might rage up a bit before landfall. I told him I wasn’t afraid of some storm. I wasn’t, you know. I was pretty damned sure everything was going to be fine. A bit of water and some wind, I’ve seen it. Hell, I was on the ground in the Pacific during the typhoon back in the 30’s. That storm came in, broke every record, and everyone just stopped fighting. What were we even fighting for? No one could remember because we were all trying to stay upright in torrential wind and rain. No warning at all, either. It’s as if we were ambushed by nature itself.

I could handle it, I said. I’ve done it before. Of course, that was a few years ago, and I maybe should have given more consideration to that point, but I really just didn’t think there would be an issue.

People are starting to honk their horns more aggressively behind me, and I’m still stuck, have been for at least fifteen minutes. Something old and jazzy is on the radio and the rain is coming down. Boy, is the rain coming down. I can’t barely see ten feet ahead of me and it’s just a little after noon. The ocean is off on my left, somewhere, behind the curtain of water that is falling from the sky.

As soon as the evacuation order came, I packed all my stuff into the car and hit the gas. I didn’t have much, only supposed to be here for another few days anyway, but as quick as I was, everyone else was quicker. The roads were already packed. Traffic was jammed. Sirens could be heard in all directions. Not my ideal vacation, that’s for sure. I just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to myself somewhere nice and luxurious, just the once, you know? I figured I’d earned a break. But here I was, evacuating, again.

The rain is coming down harder now, and the jazz has sped up tempo to match. I can’t even hear the honking anymore, but I know that it’s there, and no one has moved at all. I have no idea what has everyone stopped. Must be an accident. Maybe several. Could mean I’m going to be here for a while.

I try calling to give him an update, but I don’t have a signal. I know he’ll be worrying about me and I’ll have to remind him that’s not his job. I’m not so old yet that I can’t take care of myself, and maybe I’m stubborn, but I still feel like I’m supposed to be the dad here, even if he’s getting so much practice of his own at home with his kids. It’s been rough the last few years without his mother, but I have a feeling that she’s glowing somewhere, watching him find himself with them. I haven’t told him this. I probably should. I’m sure he knows, though. I’m sure.

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Traffic budges, barely. Maybe a foot, maybe two, then stuck, again. The wind is screaming, and where the rain was coming down before, now it’s coming sideways. It feels like there’s a new anger in the elements and a new dread rises up inside of me. I still can’t see much, but there are people just ahead of me getting out of their cars. They start running away from their vehicles, doors wide open, carrying little or nothing. Some of them fall over, they’re tripping and slipping in inches of water on the road. I’m too shocked to really understand what is happening, and more and more people are suddenly falling out of their cars, stumbling over one another to escape some unseen threat.

The jazz stops abruptly and the emergency tone replaces it, piercing. 

‘This is an automated emergency alert,’ says an inhuman voice on the radio. ‘A life-threatening storm surge is imminent. Seek immediate shelter as far inland as possible.’

It played on a loop, and soon, all the doors were open, and everyone had run.

I sit for I don’t know how long, listening to that alert, over and over, realizing that I’m not in any position to be running anywhere, and hoping that I’ll get lucky, but I feel like I might have used the last of my luck a while ago, and the hope quickly turns to resignation. The storm is unrelenting and the wind is howling louder still, furious that I’d just sit there and stare at it.

Something in the air changes. I don’t know what, I can’t tell if it’s real, but something is different, and it tells me plainly that my time is up. Like some great mouth has just opened and I’m destined to fall in.

I am suddenly deep in the memory of the time I first heard him cry. He was a loud baby, even that first time. You could tell he was always going to be a bit hard-headed, that he would need to be, but he’d find a way to make that okay for everyone, even if they should be a bit annoyed by it. You could tell his own kids would carry that, too, just as I had. Must be in the genes. Maybe our ancestors fell out of the trees a few too many times. I’m not sure.

The rain slows just enough for me to see it, out there where the ocean was supposed to be. A wall of water.

I rush to send a text, frantically tapping as doom approaches. I still don’t have a signal, but you never know, maybe he’ll get the text.

‘I love you, you’re doing a good job, and I’m sorry, you were right.’