
The alarm went off, jarring Quint out of a fitful nightmare. He'd been dreaming that he was on the Orca, in the middle of a raging storm, barely able to hold on. She was being tossed and shaken with much force. He could hear Elena and Mikey screaming for him, but he knew that he didnt bring them along on this trip, but he fought to hang on anyway as he searched the entire vessel for them, but they were nowhere to be found. Then he heard a baby crying... "Jeeez", Quint grunted as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, "...I need to remind myself not to eat spicy foods anymore before bedtime!". He remembered that meatball sandwhich with onions and barbeque sauce that he'd had as a midnight snack. He had a theory that spicy foods were what caused nightmares, but he couldnt help himself...he ate the sandwhich anyway. He looked over at Elena, who was still sound asleep. He had to leave in 45 minutes to get to the town hall...he was to have a meeting with Martin and the council about several issues...one of them being Mrs. Claridges application for a permit to expand her bed and breakfast Inn. She'd been bitching about it for as long as he could remember...even long before he had ever even thought about being mayor. He was personally going to vote on giving her that permit - just to shut her up about it. He leaned over and ran his hand down under the blanket to rub her huge belly. "Hello in there...", he whispered to her stomach, "...Daddy's got to go to work now...I just wanted to say 'good morning' to you before I left". Elena giggled. "I thought that would wake you up", he smiled at her, moving up to kiss her tenderly on the lips, "I've got to get to the town hall...gotta go...", then he kissed her again and got out of bed, quickly. She started to get up, but he stopped her. "Whoa!", he said, holding his hand out, "Where do you think youre going, woman?". "I'm going to get your breakfast...", she said, seeming confused. He knew she always made his breakfast...wouldnt ever let him out of the house without it. "No", he said, curtly, "Youre going to rest...youre due any day, now...so you need all the rest you can get!". He was so protective of her. He was no talking to her from the bathroom as he shaved. "Remember how tired you were after Mikey was born...?", he asked her. "Yes", she said, rolling her eyes. To this day, she doesnt know how she made it through that first year... she was always so very tired. "Okay, then", he said, mumbling alittle as he applied shaving cream to his chin, "...I dont have time for breakfast, anyway, dear...". He continued shaving after he said that, but he turned his eyes toward the door, so he could see her face as she spoke in the mirror...he was waiting for her response. "Well", she grumbled sleepily, "When are you going to get something to eat?". It took her awhile to answer, but when she did, Quint turned his eyes back to himself in the mirror and smiled. She was the doting wife...and he loved her for it. "The meeting wont last long...or, at least, it shouldnt...when its over, I'll just stop by the SeaShell cafe and grab something to eat...". "Well...I guess thats okay", she yawned, "...As long as you eat something soon...I dont want you getting sick". When he was dressed and ready to leave, he bent over the bed and kissed her cheek. "I'll get Mikey dressed real quick and drop him off at Mrs. Tanners, okay?", he said softly. "Thank you, sweetie", she smiled, putting her arms up around his broad shoulders to pull him down closer to her for a long, lingering kiss. "Uhhh-uh-uh!!", he grinned, shaking his finger at her playfully, "I cant this morning, sweetie...I've got work to do!". Pouting (but still smiling), she sat up and folded her arms in a huff. She really wanted to make love to him, but knew , in her heart, that he had important business to take care of. Besides...she didnt really feel all that well, anyway. She figured that she was more tired than she realized, and settled for the idea of getting more sleep, after all. Her huge belly would have gotten in the way, anyway. But she still hated him having to go in for 'work' on a saturday. She wanted him all to herself on the weekends. When he was a sharker, she had him...but, since he has been mayor, he's out at all hours, on all days. After Quint and Mikey left, she laid down and got warm. It was cold, out...and it looked like a bad day was coming, but she was more concerned that she couldnt love her man like she wanted to, so she fell asleep, still pouting. The meeting had gone on all day before Quint got around to voting on Mrs. Claridges zoning permit. He waited to vote on hers last, because she needed all of the other businesses votes, as well as the mayors and the councils...and, since the day had been good for the other business owners, he felt it reasonable to believe that they would all vote 'yes' for her. Besides...they were all just as tired of her bitching and complaining as he was. But it seemed like nothing was going right, today. They all had gotten everything they had asked the council for, but they all chose this opportunity to air thier complaints. Everybody had a gripe and everyone else had to argue about it. By two o'clock, Quints stomach was grumbling loudly and he was feeling light-headed...so, he called for a recess, for lunch. "Martin...how about havin' lunch with me over at the SeaShell?", Quint asked, "...I'm buyin'". "How can I pass up a free lunch?", Martin grinned. When the council was reconviening for the day and all the interested parties were filling the meeting hall, ugly dark grey storms clouds were looming over head. As Quint and Martin rounded the corner from East shore avenue onto Main street, one block from the town hall, the rain started. They pulled thier jackets over thier heads and ducked and ran to get out of it. It started coming down hard. They stood there, on the porch of the town hall building, staring up at the sky a bit before going inside. "Man...that looks nasty...", Martin commented. "Yes...", Quint agreed, his mind stil on the storm, "...In fact, if I were out on the Orca right now, I'd be breaking my back trying to get to shore before it hit". As they walked past Quints office, Brenda, Quints secretary, yelled out for him. "Mayor Quint!", she waved, gesturing for him to come into the office. "What is it?", Quint asked, as he stepped inside the office door. "You might want to call the meeting early, boss...I've been listening to the radio weather channel all morning and they say that hurricane Lester is heading north across the Atlantic and its supposed to hit Amity by 4 this afternoon...", he eyes were wide with excitement. "Right", Quint chuckled, "...Last week they had a bloody tsunami heading for shore...we didnt even so much as see a three-foot wave!". He and Martin laughed, remembering the big scare that turned out to be nothing. "Oh...but...", Brenda continued, swallowing hard, knowing she was setting herself up for a scorching reprimand from her boss for disagreeing with him (he didnt like that)...who could really scare a girl!..."I called the National Weather Service to confirm it...its headed this way...and its a number FOUR...the most severe hurricane!!...The only consolation is, that its coming on slower than first anticipated!". Quint gave Martin a serious look. "What do you think, Brody?...Do we give it up for today and have everyone get to thier homes to prepare for it?....Or ignore it...?", Quint was seriously asking Martins advice...after all, he was the one trained in keeping the peace in a disaster. Martin walked over to the window and took one more look at that dark, looming sky. With a most serious facial expression, Martin said, "...I say we bust our asses out of here and see to it that everyone gets shelter, right away!". They hurried inside the meeting area where everyone was already setting and waiting for the meetings to resume. "let me have your attention, everyone...", Quint shouted to the crowded, busy room. His loud, booming voice seemed to go right through everyone, "...I have something important to tell you...". When the room was quiet, Quint continued. "Listen, folks", Quint said, seriously, "There's a number four hurricane named Lester coming our way. Now some of you might already be aware of it, some of you arent. Well...the National Weather Service says its coming and will be here sometimes around four PM. That means we all have less than two hoursto get ourselves somewhere where we can be safe when Lester hits. If you live on the west side of the island, go there...board up your windows and make sure you have enough supplies on hand for a couple of days. We wont know whats going to happen with power outtages and blocked roads and the like, so its best to be safe than sorry. The rest of you, go to the police station, across the street...the Chief is going to put a list of emergency shelters on the bulletin board. The chief will get his secretary to notify all shelters of the coming storm, unless they have heard about it, by now....Last, but not least, all you fishermen get to your boats and secure them as best you can, as quickly as you can. We may not have much hope of saving our vessels, but at least we'll know we tried". Clarke Tibbs raised his hand. "Yes, Clarke?", Quint asked. "I know that the hospital and the firehouse are shelters...but where are there anymore?". "Like the mayor just told you", Martin piped in, "if you either get turned away or dont want to travel that far, to either the firehouse or the hospital, then walk right across the street to the station and look over the list that Polly will be putting up, as soon as I give her the info. I'm going to be making calls to the ferry building and the public works building, over on the farthest western side of the island. If they agree to allow so many people in as a shelter, then the location will be posted on the police station list. Now...I'm going to go sound the storm sirens in approximately ten minutes...so, I suggest you all get going!". "But, what about notifying the rest of the island?", Barbara (sometimes referred to as "Babs", short for Barbara) Gillespie inquired. Quint took this one. "Well", he said, "First off, my secretary will be calling the only island radio and the two tv stations...second, all the fishermen and thier families already know about the hurricane...if they dont, then they're not very good fishermen", he grinned. Everyone chuckled and laughed. "Anyway", Quint continued, smiling, his eyes flashing blue with excitement, "My secretary will request that the radio and tv stations send an alert every ten minutes...as soon as all the shelters are listed, they will be given a list of the available shelters to use to notify everyone either listening or watching. Between those and the storm sirens, thats about all we can do." Martin broke in, "We will send out a couple of the deputies to the older islanders, out on the outskirts of the island to evacuate them...but if anyone has any other suggestions, we'd like to hear them". No one came up with any. Quint, useing his power to invoke sympathy, but ready to use his quite effective power of intimidation, if he had to, said, "But we could free-up our police force if we had some volunteers to drive around, gathering up the older folks and see to it that they got to shelters where they would be safe...". Chet Williams, owner of the Fishermans Grotto, where Quint liked to go to drink as often as he could, piped up and volunteered - if he had someone who would go with him. "Okay, Ray...", Quint said, nodding to Ray O'Connor, owner/operator of the Amity boatworks, "This is that favor you owe me for telling your wife that you were with me that one weekend last summer when you were'nt". Quint had a particularly evil grin on his face and a twinkle of mischeviousness in his eyes. Everyone in the room busted out laughing as Ray looked embarrassed and seemed to blush a bit. Quint winked at him and smiled. "Okay, Quint", Ray said, smiling with deep red cheeks, trying to hide his face, grinning madly. Tipping the bill of his cap back, Quint said, "Now, excuse me...I have a little son and an expectant wife that I have to get to safety before I can finish my duties". Martin told everyone to follow him, if they wanted to be there when Polly posted the shelters list. Everyone left the meeting area. Quint went into his office to tell Brenda to get his wife on the phone and tell her to meet him at the police station. Then he told her to call Mrs. Tanner to tell her that he would be picking up his son in about ten minutes. Then he excused himself to go 'make use of the facilities' while she made those calls. When he returned, Brenda didnt have good news. "I've been trying your house, mayor, but no one answers...I contacted Mrs. Tanner and she said that Mrs. Quint picked your son up, earlier today to go do some shopping on the mainland...". "Damn!", Quint spat, "...She's got the truck...there's no telling where that woman could be...". He ran his big hand through his thinning hair, thinking about what he should do, next..."Keep trying the house, Brenda", he told her, agitated, "...If you reach her, tell her to either come here or, if the rain is picking up, go straight to the hospital...she's due to have this baby anyday, now...I would just take her there, myself, anyway...". "Yes, mayor", she said dutifully, as she reached for the phone one more time. Quint stepped out into the hallway, on his way outside to check the condition of the weather and to see if he could spot the truck parked anywhere close. He bumped into Martin, walking in. "Say, Quint...can I use your phone to call home?". "Go ahead, Brody", Quint said, his mind on nothing but Elena and Mikey, stepping around Martin on his way outside. But Quint couldnt see much at all...it was already raining too hard and visibility was almost nil. Quint trotted back into his office. "Brenda, have you already phoned the tv and radio stations?", Quint asked her, hoping that she hadnt...he was going to have her ask them to send out an announcement to Elena to have her meet him at the hospital. He wanted her at that hospital in case she went into labor during the storm...she was due anyday and it worried him something terrible and a hurricane can last sometimes two or three days... "Yes, mayor...I have...why?", was her reply. "Nothing, Brenda...thank you", he said, totally lost in thought. It wasnt a 'big deal' - yet...he knew that Elena was smart and resourceful...she's surely heard about the storm (or has seen it, by now), but she may be looking for him out there in all that mess. Just then, Connie Claridge came up to Quint, grabbing his arm, tugging at his jacket. "What about my permit, mayor?", she asked...selfishly. Quint just couldnt believe the sheer audacity of this woman! He looked down at her. She was short...just making five feet tall in those two inch heels. She was round, wore glasses and had dark, short, curled hair with streaks of grey and was wearing that same, oversized "Army-green" cardigan that she seemed to wear everyday of her life. He squinted down at her and let her have his best, most agitated state, "I'll tell you what, Mrs. Claridge...if you go out into that storm and find my wife and son and stop this hurricane from hitting Amity, I'll PERSONALLY go in there and issue you that permit and PERSONALLY shove it up your....". Martin ran up to him. He had been listening and saw 'steam' coming from Quints ears! "Uh...Mayor", Martin distracted him before he could do permanent damage. Quint looked at martin, calmed a little, then continued with the very shocked Mrs. Claridge. "Anyway", Quint continued, talking mostly through his teeth, trying with great struggle to remain in control, "...Right now, Mrs. Claridge, a number four hurricane is setting just off coast, ready to kill 1800 islanders- including my son and pregnant wife - and destroy millions of dollars worth of property, including your house and business, and they are all FAR more important than your bloody PERMIT!!". "Well!!", she snorted, "...And to think I voted for you!!". It was a good thing that Martin was there. He had a calm, comforting nature...along with the patience to deal with Connie Claridge. Quint sure as hell didnt. "Mrs. Claridge", Martin said, calmly, taking her by her arm, gently, walking her away from that bomb named Quint, "You have to understand that this whole island is now in a state of emergency and this is the mayors first big issue. You can understand that he wants to make sure he does things right and keeps people safe, dont you?". She nodded her head. "Well", Martin continued, "If you dont allow the mayor to do his job, you may not need that permit...because you may not even have a business left and, quite possibly, you may not even be around to worry about it...understand, now?". He put his hand gently on her shoulder and smiled at her. In his police psychology courses, he'd learned that a touch or a smile can mean the difference between and irate person and a calm person. It usually always worked, too...luckily, it was working, now. "But why didnt the mayor just tell me all of that instead of yelling at me?", she whined. Quint was behind them, listening...and it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut. "Mrs. Claridge", Martin smiled, trying to remain calm, himself. Connie Claridge was that type of person who could grate on your nerves easily, without even trying. Her voice reminded one of someone scraping thier fingernails across a chalkboard and that didnt help her personality, any. "You cant honestly expect our mayor to have the ability to be able to think of everything at one time, can you?", Martin continued, "...After all...he may be mayor, but he's still only human". Martin was giving her his best, friendliest smile. Finally, she said, "Youre right, Chief...as usual". Then she walked off, chuckling, as if she had said nothing wrong, done nothing wrong. "Jesus H christ, Brody!", Quint hissed, "Where the hell do you find the patience for people like that??". Martin, grinning, just patted Quints back, "Just part of the job, old buddy...glad I could be here to help...I'd hate to have had to get here, later...I'd've had to scape the old dame off the walls!". Martin laughed heartily, but Quint just smiled. He was still too worried to find humor in anything. "Did you get ahold of anyone at your place?", Quint asked Martin. "Yeah", Martin sighed, "Ellens there, packing up some supplies...canned goods, bottled water, flashlight and radio batteries...you know the kind of stuff...anyway, I'm supposed to leave to go get her and the boys in ten minutes...you want me to stop by and pick up Elena and Mike?". Quints eyes were the color of those dark grey clouds billowing over head, his face, serious..."I cant find Elena or Mikey", Quint said, "...She wasnt at your place?". "Ellen didnt mention it...I could call her back and ask...", Martin began feeling concerned, himself. If theres one thing a man needs to do when he knows a disaster is going to happen, is to have his family with him so he can protect them. "Do that, Chief", Quint said, "I've got to get O'Connor up off his ass and get him going". "You got it", Martin said, clapping Quint on the back, trying to pretend nothing was wrong so Quint wouldnt worry, "I'm sure one of them called each other ealrier and we'll be the fools for worrying!". But Elena wasnt at Ellens house. Ellen hadnt seen nor heard from her. It was going on 4:30pm and the hurricane was bearing down on the island. The rains were coming down hard and the winds were up to 65 miles per hour. The shelters - the firehouse, the hospital, the ferry building and the public works building - are all on the west side of the island, away from the oncoming hurricane. And now, they were all occupied with islanders, watching the progress of the storm via television...at least, while they still had electricity. But there were still many islanders who were sure that this hurricane would just pass right by the island, who didnt take shelter. There were also others, as well, who hadnt been listening to the tv or the radio stations about the storm... ...These were the few who now packed the police station, looking for answers to questions about where they should go and what they should be doing. No one had been prepared. After all...the last hurricane Amity island had experienced had came long before even the oldest islander was born. Martin was supposed to be over at the town hall, going over the emergency disaster plan with the public works department and the fire department, discussing when and if they should shut off power to keep downed lines from starting fires, search and rescue tactics and how they were going to manage road cleanup incase roads were blocked and emergency vehicles couldnt get through. Phone lines, they thought, were not as important for communications, since there was a ham radio unit in the back office of the police station that ran on batteries, allowing them access to the mainland, but there was worry that the antenna may be blown down. But, now, the station was jam-packed. "Chief!", Clyde Collins shouted, "Wheres the shelters??...Is the storm really gonna make it on land??". "Hold on!", Martin shouted to the crowded station, "Polly is putting up a list of places to go AND volunteers needed!...Now, if you'll all be patient, we can get through this safely and efficiently...and as quickly as possible!". The station quieted down a bit...people began murmuring amongst themselves instead of yelling out questions to Martin, waiting on Polly to post the bulletins. Martin leaned over Polly's desk, "Can you get that paper up as quick as you can?...That storm sounds like a freight-train, ready to barrel into this place...these folks need to get out of here like two hours ago!". "I can do it fine, chief...it'll be done in just a sec...you go over to your meeting and I'll take care of this", she said, a pencil between her teeth, typing. "Good", he sighed, "'Cuz Quints probably over there shitting bricks wondering where I'm at". But after Martin made his way around the desk and through the crowd, he ran into a wet and haggard-looking Elena and a dripping, wide-eyed Mikey. "Elena!", Martin gasped, "Quuuints been going frantic looking for you!...Where have you been??". She was out of breath and in obvios pain, "Martin...", she gasped, "I...(pant)...think I'm (pant) going into labor...". "Aw...shit!!", Martin hissed, as he ushered her throught the crowd and back to his priavte office so she could rest on the sofa in there. He got her into the office, got her wet coat off and put his own, dry jacket on her. Polly found a blanket for her while she was looking for something to keep Mikey occupied, so he put the official police jacket onto Mikey (which pleased Mikey enormously...a police chiefs jacket with those officail patches and the badge), then put the blanket onto the now reclining Elena. "I've got to get Quint", Martin told her. He leaned out the door and yelled for Polly to call Quint and an ambulance. "Sorry, chief...", Polly said, holding the telephone reciever out towards him, "Looks like the lines are already down...". "Already??...damn!!...the storm must be closer than I thought...", Martin worried aloud. Just as he said that, as tring wind came and shook the building with such force that the windows rattled - one of the two even cracked severely - and they lost power. Everyone gasped as the lights went out. "Everybody just take a seat on the floor, somewhere", Martin instructed. Luckily, there was still enough light outside that they didnt need candles or flashlights, yet...but they were going to need them, soon. "Everybody keep your backs towrd the windows and your faces down", Martin continued, "You too, Polly...on the floor...now". He went up and over the desk and started pushing it toward the people on the floor, to use as a sort of 'breakwall' to cushion and protect them incase another strong gust of wind came up and blew the rest of that cracked window in on them. "Can I help, chief?", Josh Warren, a healthy 20-year-old asked. Martin was greatful for the offer. "Yeah, Josh...help me move this desk over , then help me move those bookcases...we need a good, strong breakwall incase that window comes in, so that no one gets all cut up...if these dont do it", he said as they pushed that heavy desk across the room, "then we'll get the filing cabinets and desk out of my office". Quint, on the other hand, wasnt doing as good as Martin. Martin could efficiently take charge, whereas Quint would allow his emotions to rule his actions. All he could think about was his wife and son. He did, however, manage to get throught those meetings...Simms, Baker and Burns were there, representing the police department, standing in for the chief. They were to report back to Brody, however, on what happened during the meeting. But Quints mind was on only one thing...and he was getting antsy about it. He turned to Simms, "...I cant wait any longer...", Quint grumbled nervously, staring out at the storm...his piercing blue eyes full of fear and dreadful worry. "When the chief returns", Quint told Simms, "You tell him I've gone to find my family and I'm not coming back until I do". "But, mayor", Simms pleaded, "That hurricane is bearing down hard on the island, right now...shouldnt you assume they have found shelter and get shelter for yourself??". "I cant take that chance", Quint told him, as he turned toward Barbara Gillespie. "I need the keys to your land rover, Babs...you'll go to the station, across the street, and take shelter...I need to find my wife and son...". Without hesitation, she quickly retrieved the keys from her purse and handed them to him. "Be careful, mayor", she said...but he was already halfway down the hall and didnt hear her. As she watched him walking away, she mused at his long, powerful legs and what long strides they took...one of his steps would measure three of hers! The rain pelted his face, stinging his cheeks. It was coming down so hard and so much, that he felt as if he would drown if he looked up. He was thoroughly soaked to the skin by the time he got to the land rover, only five feet from the front door of the town hall. And the wind felt as if it were blowing at 100-miles-per-hour, now. He had to lean way forward, almost completely bent forward, to fight the very strong wind. It knocked him back a few times before he even got to the land rover, causing him to grab onto the railing of the fence , to be able to pull himself forward to even get close to the land rover. All the while, thoughts of Elena and Mikey and the baby running through his mind... After he managed to finally make it inside the truck and get the door closed, he quickly got the key into the ignition and started it up. He turned on the wipers, but they were of no use...he was going to have to drive slowly through this driving rain because he couldnt see anything 5 feet ahead of him. He didnt - couldnt - see Martin running after him as he pulled away from the curb.