Her Name Will Be Faith (50 page)

A very wet and angry looking Kiley. Who was gazing at him.
"What the
hell are you doing
here?" he demanded. "JC fired you, a couple of hours ago."

"To take effect at seven o'clock, Mr Kiley,"
Julian chipped in. "So
he's been giving me a
hand. You're kind of early, ain't you?"

"Early!"
Kiley exploded. "JC is going wild. I've spent the past three
hours trying to get here.
God knows if I'll ever see my automobile again;
I've had to walk from the bridge; they're jammed solid, all lanes, all
going
north. Now you tell me, is this storm really going to hit
us?"

"Yes, Mr Kiley, it
is," Richard said. "In about five hours from now."

"Goddamn,"
Kiley said. "And I've got to get someone down to Hunt
to make some transfers.
Holy Jesus." He wandered out, closing the door behind him.

"He doesn't know what time of
day it is," Jayme commented.

"I don't think he knows what day it is,"
Julian said.

"Well, I think he's going to
find out." Richard picked up the phone
again.

Jo
awoke with a start to the jangling of the telephone. It was broad
daylight, although there
was obviously a total overcast, and the rain was lashing at the windows, driven
by gale force winds, while the thunder crackled continuously. She sat up,
unable for a moment to grasp where
she was;
after a hot shower she had lain down in her bathrobe and fallen
into a
deep sleep. Now she gasped as she saw the time on her bedside clock – six
o'clock. Immediately her brain was awake. She pushed hair from her eyes and
reached for the phone. "Richard!" she gasped. "Oh, thank
God!"

"Jo?" The
woman's voice was high, and disconcerted.

"Oh, my God! Sally?
Sally Davenport? Where are you?"

"I'm
at home, Jo," Sally said, somewhat acidly. Home for Sally
Davenport was ten miles
outside Newport. There'd be no chaos out there… yet.

"Oh. Well… any word
from the boys?"

"I
was going to ask you that? I tried to raise them through the exchange
here but they told me they
couldn’t handle any personal traffic right now as there's an emergency on. Have
you ever heard such damned nonsense?"

"Well," Jo said,
"there is a hurricane racing at us..."

"For
Heaven's sake, Jo, you'd think in this day and age they'd be
capable of coping with a
hurricane," Sally complained. "Sam was sup
posed to call me last night; they were going to
be back within radio range
by then. But he hasn't. Jo, have you heard
from them?"

"No.
Not since..." For a moment Jo just could not remember when
last she had spoken with
Michael. "My God! Not since midnight on
Thursday.
I spoke to him about the hurricane and suggested he turn back
to
Bermuda."

"And did he?"

"No. He said he was
standing on. You know what Michael is like."

"Good Lord! Aren't
you worried? I mean, he has Sam with him."

"Sally," Jo said
impatiently. "Of course I'm worried. But Michael was
confident he could out sail the storm, and he's
probably right. He usually
is. Anyway,
it's turned away from him. It's virtually on our doorstep
down here, and it's coming straight at us. I have
things to do. I'll call
you later." She replaced the phone, jumped
out of bed, and ran into the lounge, where Owen Michael was watching
television.

"Hey, Mom," he
called. "The Mayor's on."

Jo
gazed at Bill Naseby, wearing his electioneering expression – he was
famous for his ability to
reassure – as he filled the screen.

".
. . you folks out there know I've never let you down, and by golly,
I'm not going to let you
down now. But I'm also going to give it to you straight. We have a major crisis
here, and we have got to tackle it in the best possible way. So firstly, I have
placed police, National Guardsmen,
and Army
units on every bridge, in every tunnel, and at every intersection
in or
out of Manhattan, to control movement. Now I know you can look
out of your windows and see that there's one heck
of a snarl-up out there,
or maybe you're in that snarl-up at this
moment, and I know you'll have heard that the bridges and tunnels are jammed
solid, but I can assure you that we are working to clear them, and we are
winning. But to win, we need your co-operation. Obey the instructions given you
by the men
on duty. The important thing is
that we firstly evacuate all persons living
less than fifty feet above
sea level. Those people's homes are in danger of being flooded; they have to
have a number one priority. There may, I am sorry to say, be a great deal of
wind damage to many houses and other buildings from this storm, but it is the
surging water that can kill, and this we must deal with first. To all people
living in such areas, I want to say, pack up only as much as you can carry in
one suitcase, and move
out on to the street.
You will find policemen there, and they will direct
you to the best route to take. They will also give
you a ticket, just like
this..."
he held one up, "which it is very important for you to carry
and present whenever you are stopped by any
patrol. Only if you have
one of these tickets will you be allowed to
move from one location to
another. Anyone,
and most especially those with any automobile or other
vehicle, not in
possession of one of these tickets, will be stopped and pushed off the road
until all those low-lying areas have been evacuated.

"Those
of you living more than 50 feet above sea level, that is, all of
you north of 34th Street,
between Lexington and Tenth, except where
you may be specifically
told to evacuate by the police, must stay in your
homes and apartments until instructed to move by the police. If you
attempt to move without possession of one of our
exit tickets – which can
only be
obtained from the policemen on duty – not only will your
automobile
be pushed off the road, but you yourself will be liable to
prosecution. We will get to everyone just as soon
as it is possible to do
so. But
until then, we ask you, in the name of common sense, in the name
of
humanity, not to clog the streets, which are needed by those in greater peril
than yourselves. You will not be flooded. Your buildings are in no
real danger, and neither are your lives. However
uncomfortable it may
be for you during
the next twenty-four hours, you will survive. Others may not unless we can get
them to safety in time. I must attend to my
duties now. But I will tell you this: as long as there is one life in
danger
in this city, I and my staff
and your gallant police force will remain at
our posts. And as long as there is electricity, keep your radios and
televisions
tuned in, to keep yourselves informed of the situation. God bless you
all."

His face disappeared, and
one of the senior anchormen replaced him.
"That
was the Mayor of New York, William 'Bill' Naseby," he said. "And
that
telecast will be repeated every hour, on the hour, throughout the morning. And
now, at this grave hour, we turn..."

Jo switched off the set.

"Hey, Mom, he said to
leave it on," Owen Michael protested.

"I know he did. And
we can put it on again later. But I have to get through to the studio."

"The studio?"

"We're..."
We're trapped, she wanted to shout. Don't you under
stand?
Because of that goddamned shit of a careless driver, and because
I was careless enough to
fall asleep, we're stuck here, above the 50-foot
mark. She had to contact Richard; she could think of nothing else to
do.

But all the studio lines
were busy. She went into the bathroom to wash
her
face, and found only a rusty trickle coming out of the tap. The kitchen
was the same. Oh, God, she thought. Oh, God! It was
not possible for
the water to have
gone off while it was clouding past her windows in what
seemed solid
sheets.

She
tried the studio again, and heard it ring. "Mr Connors," she
gasped. "It really is
urgent. My name is Donnelly." To her amazement, she was through in ten
seconds. "Richard!" she shrieked. "Oh, Richard! I've been trying
to reach you forever."

"My darling," he
said. "Where are you? Did your father-in-law find you?"

"My father-in-law? I
haven't seen him."

"But… aren't you in
Bognor?"

"No," she
gasped, trying to disguise her despair and misery. "No. I'm not in Bognor.
I'm right here in the apartment."

"You're
where?"

Swallowing hard, she
launched into the story of their morning.

"Christ," he
said when she had finished. "Look, have you food and water?"

"We
have food," she said. "But there's no water. I tried the taps just
now and there was
nothing."

"You have nothing to
drink at all?"

"Oh, there's plenty
to drink. Except water." Just hearing his voice was making her feel normal
again.

"Okay. Listen… there's
no way you can leave town now."

"I know that. I just
heard the mayor say so on television. Richard… what do we do? I have the
children here with me."

"Keep
calm, for a start. Move yourself, and everything you have to
drink,
and a good supply of canned food – stuff that doesn't need
cooking,
or even heating – away from your windows. Into… how about
the bathroom?"

"Which one?"

"Whichever one has
the smallest window. Or better yet, one with no
window at all. Move yourself and Owen Michael and Tamsin in there
and
sit tight. Expect the electricity to go off some time this morning, and
it won't come back on again until maybe Monday.
It'll be warm, but
livable. Just stay
there. I'm going to try to get to you, the moment I'm
of no use
here."

"Richard!" she
screamed. "You can't. Don't try, please. It'll be too dangerous."

"I won't take any
chances," he promised. "Just make yourself and the kids safe and sit
tight. I'll be there if it's humanly possible."

Jo sat with drooping
shoulders, arms hanging limply between her knees, staring at the phone.

Owen
Michael and Tamsin, who had also now woken up, stood
together, gazing at her.
"What are we going to do, Mom?" Owen asked.
He was smiling, trusting, and confident that Mom could be depended
upon
to cope with anything.

If
only he knew how inadequate she felt. She looked at him and warmed
with pride. He was thinner
and paler since his surgery but had surely
grown
at least another inch – he was quickly developing into a young lion
like his father, almost taller than herself. And she
had failed both him
and Tamsin – and Richard – and herself,
by not getting them out of town in time.

She
returned the boy's smile and squared her shoulders. There was no
time for regrets, for
backward thinking; they must prepare for their joint battle for survival.
"I guess we have to get ourselves ready to ride out the hurricane, right
here. Shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"Heck,
no, Mommy," Tamsin said. "I wasn't scared, down in Eleuthera, not
until the roof blew off. Then it was so cold and wet, and
scary."

"Oh, my darling
girl." Jo hugged her close. "I was so determined you wouldn't have to
go through that again."

"But our roof won't
blow off, will it, Mommy?"

"Of
course it won't," Jo asserted, and stood up, just as lightning struck
another building close by,
pretending she hardly noticed. Of course it
won't,
she told herself… but Faith was now carrying winds half as
strong again
as those that had blown over Eleuthera.