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It’s after midnight for Gabe. Did he close his hut early? He’d be done by now, regardless.
I’m texting him.
Me:Updates? I’m watching the storm.
Gabe:Then you know as much as we do. Everyone’s prepping. I have to head to Mendo’s to help. I’ll be in touch.
Me:Be safe.
I sleep fitfully, and each time I wake, I check Calinda’s path. I find a La Jarra storm site that sends updates and recommendations for how to prepare via text. I sign up for alerts, and they immediately start coming.
24 hours to landfall.
Lock all storm shutters, if you have them.
Board windows.
Place sand bags around your perimeter and any low-lying areas.
Collect supplies, including flashlights, blankets, dry clothes, water, and food.
Charge all electrical devices.
Check your generator.
Prepare to evacuate for shelters.
A link to a list of them pops up.
At dawn, with Calinda still heading their way and expected to upgrade to a hurricane, La Jarra officials begin evacuating hospitals and nursing homes via planes. They send out an alert to citizens to prepare for flooding on the roadways.
I think of how close we were to being there when this happened, and of all the tourists there now. Are the turtles okay? Do the stingrays know how to get food on their own if the boats don’t show up to feed them?
And Gabe’s hut. How much wind can it withstand? It’s certainly not hurricane-worthy.
When Lila and Rosie get up, I hurry out to the living room. I can’t manage my fear alone.
“There’s a storm headed to the island.”
Lila sucks in a breath. “Oh no.”
“It could turn.”
She sets Rosie in her high chair. “Will it?”
“I don’t know.”
Lila spreads Cheerios on Rosie’s tray and draws me into a hug. “Are you doing okay?”
“Gabe doesn’t seem worried. He says the island is built for it.”
“They would have to be.”
“He said cell phone towers would eventually go down.”
“When did you last hear from him?”
“About four hours ago.”
