Category 5 - 1. Category 5

“Mahalo, Drake,” the girl sitting beside me said with a willing smile, as I handed her my study notes.

Stretching, I reflected that she probably didn’t really want the notes themselves, more likely planning instead to use them as an excuse to invite me to study with her. She’d tried that ploy before, so, stifling a yawn, I bid her farewell with a smiling “Aloha,” as I reached for my backpack.

With the last class of the week concluded, it was time to have some fun. This being Kauai, Hawaii, the surf report made its way around campus like lighting; a big storm to the south was driving heavy swells against the southwest shore. Rumor had it that some of the point and reef breaks were already surging past twenty feet.

Firing up my old van, I took the coast road home, stopping to check the surf from a few vantage points. The southwest bays were pumping, no doubt about it, so I hurried home, eager to ride the storm-driven waves.

Surfing had become a major part of my life, beginning when my parents moved us here from Idaho five years before. Now it was my rock; the one thing left to me that still gave my life purpose.

Pulling my van under the carport, I left the engine running. Bounding up my stairs, taking them three at a time, I nearly ran headlong into old Miss Apuhau.

"Drake," she scolded, wagging her gnarled finger in my face, "Slow down you crazy howlie. I come to tell you; bigstorm headed our way, Sunday. You best be gettn' things ready 'cause it gonna be a bad one. You know what I say tho'; storms they come and go, ‘an sometimes they bear rewards for those that be brave."

“I know better than to doubt you on the weather,” I said, pausing a moment before asking, “How bad will it be?”

Fixing me in her steely gaze, Miss Apuhau crooked her finger at me as she said, “Bad. The storm will come very close, ‘an be worse than they now saying. A fierce one it will be, though it will end quick once its done as it will. No need for you to leave, this ‘ole building be like me, stout and strong. Just keep ‘yer eyes open ‘an ride it out.”

Not waiting for a reply, she brushed past me, disappearing by the time I’d turned around. I’d met her several times, usually near the grocery market; a spry old Hawaiian woman, very strange but nice enough; we’d talked, and she’d taken an interest in me. With my own family out of the picture, I was glad for her company, but I had no idea how she knew where I lived. Always before, she’d just appeared as if from thin air at various places around the little town, taking a mischievous pleasure in startling me as she tapped on my shoulder. She seemed to have an uncanny eye for the weather, so I was inclined to believe her about the approaching hurricane. I took the remaining steps three at a time as I ran for my door, fumbling with the key before entering my attic studio apartment.

Stooping to avoid a section of low roof – I’d knocked myself near senseless more times than I cared to count – I dived for my boards, pulling the stack from the corner. Hefting my favorite stick, an old six-foot ducktail single-fin short board, I tucked it under my arm, racing for my van.

Pulling out of the driveway, I had time to reflect on Miss Apuhau’s warning. I wasn’t too worried though; Sunday was forty-eight hours away, plenty of time, or so I thought. I clicked on my radio, channel-surfing until I found a weather report... “A hurricane warning has been issued for the islands of Kauai and Niihau. The predicted storm track for hurricane Upana is northwest, passing forty miles southeast of Kauai; the eye of the storm is expected to thread the Kaulakahi channel between Kauai and Niihau. The southern and western parts of Kauai are expected to experience hurricane-force winds by early Sunday morning. Maximum sustained winds are currently one hundred forty miles per hour, making the storm a category four. The Central Pacific Hurricane Center does not expect the storm to weaken significantly prior to the point of closest approach. An increase in intensity is possible if the anticipated eyewall replacement cycle does not occur. Stay tuned for further advisories as the islands of Kauai and Niihau are within the eye’s potential path.”

Parking under the palms at Kukula bay, I climbed out to look at the surf. The reef break further out was swelling large but not quite breaking – yet. Inshore, though, it was running eight to ten feet, glassy and tubing, perfect...

My wallet and shirt left behind, I locked up the van. With my board under my arm, I padded down the sandy trail through the palms and shrubs to the beach, feeling the warm, gentle tropical breeze caress my skin. The light, diffused by the high cirrus clouds, was less intense then normal, but otherwise it was a typical Hawaiian day; warm and humid with the azure blue sea beckoning ahead.

Emerging onto the beach, I noticed I was not alone. Standing on a low outcropping of dark volcanic rocks, a battered orange short board under his arm, staring out to sea, was someone I’d noticed the day before. He’d caught my eye, both for his looks and his demeanor. Outwardly, he and I could have been brothers; his long, sun-bleached hair much like my own, the same lithe, defined build beneath a golden tan. Hardly an unusual look for a surfer, but I thought he carried it off better than most. It was his face, though, that shocked me; he had a face that just seemed suited to a smile or a friendly laugh, making the utter lack thereof all the more striking.

I moved to stand beside him on the rocks, both of us staring out to sea in the unspoken camaraderie of surfers everywhere, studying the waves, seeing where and how they broke, and looking for the easiest route out past the beach breakers.

With the slightest nod of his head, he indicated a riptide a hundred yards down the beach. Rips are the bane of swimmers, but are beloved by surfers; they provide an easy route through inshore breaks.

Together we trotted down the beach, pausing only long enough to apply a new bead of wax to the decks of our boards before entering the warm sea. Once the water was waist deep, we dove on our boards, paddling through the inshore breaks with long, sure strokes, aided by the rip current, duck-diving under the few waves that came our way.

Out past the break, we spun our boards around, sitting up to check the patterns, making sure the waves were still peaking in front of us. I glanced seaward, spying a large roller passing over the outer reef a quarter mile behind me, nearly, but not quite breaking.

It was a big one, big enough to break out past where we were, so I paddled further out, turning back towards the beach as the swell approached, paddling hard to take off, sparing only a call of “going right” to my companion as I felt the surge of acceleration from the wave.

Picking up speed on the steepening face of the wave, I grabbed the rails, pushing myself up with my arms, pulling my feet up under me as I stood, just in time to kick into the bottom turn. The wave began to peak behind me as I raced across its face, dragging my hand through the wall of water beside me to slow down, just a little, as I heard a familiar roar behind me. Glancing back, I saw the wave peaking, the lip above me starting to foam. I crouched down, building up speed, as the water from the curl loomed over my head.

Keeping my head low, I felt the water cascading beside me, its spray pelting my body, the muted thunder of its roar filling my ears as the tube formed around me. They call it the Green Room, or the Glass House, and no one who hasn’t been there can truly appreciate what it feels like to be inside a tube, being as one with the sea. The color of the light filtering through the water gives the place its name, but the feel of riding a board within an ocean breaker is unsurpassed. You are one with the sea, part of it, the deep roar and the sensation of speed combining, reminding you that all visits to the Green Room are, by their very nature, brief.

Edging forward on my board to pick up more speed, the bright opening at the end of the tube loomed ahead. Feeling the first gust of wind, I braced myself as the tube closed out somewhere behind me, slamming me with a sudden, violent wall of air, the salt spray stinging my bare skin I emerged back into the sunlit world, pumping my fists in the air in exaltation, stoked from my visit to the Green Room. Seeing the wave breaking ahead of me, barring my path, I cut out, over the top, catching major air as I left the wave behind.

Scrambling back on my board I paddled hard, reaching the surf line just before the next big breaker came, allowing me to turn and watch my companion take off, before disappearing from my sight down the face of the wave.

His exit from the wave was the same as mine, a cut out, just a little more graceful than I’d managed, and soon he was sitting beside me again, astride his board, as I broke the silence between us, “That looked like some ride, bro. It’s breaking good today,” I said while giving him a thumbs-up.

He nodded, almost smiling, “Off the Richter, man. Glassy and big, offshore wind, and that storm’s driving some heavies our way,” he paused for a second before adding, “I’m Cody.”

“Drake,” I said, as I took a good look at Cody, astonished that he could sound so excited without the barest trace of a smile; if indeed he ever actually smiled. I stared at his beautiful blue eyes, their serene appearance clouded only by the sadness they seemed to reveal.

We rode set after set that afternoon, mainly honoring the customary silence out on the lineup, saying little but glad for each other’s company. By later that afternoon, the sky had darkened somewhat, colored by fast-scudding bands of cloud, the wind picking up to a steady onshore breeze, spoiling the formerly glassy conditions and turning the inshore break into mush.

After riding the last wave of the day in, we returned to the rocks, looking out over the bay. I raised my arm to point at the outer reef, well offshore, “It’s just starting to break. If that storm gets close, that reef break will be huge; fifty-footers, easy.”

Cody studied the waves for a while before replying, “That, or even bigger. They say when that reef is really breaking; you can hear the roar for miles. Think how it would feel to ride a wave like that.”

For a bare moment I thought he was serious, but I knew he could harbor no such illusions. Smiling, I said, “It would be a killer ride, in more ways than one. That reef is lava rock, close enough to the surface that if you go over the falls, you’re dead. The break’s bounded by the promontories at both ends so you couldn’t even hope to ride clear. I don’t think anyone has ever surfed that break, or ever will.”

Cody nodded, remaining silent, his eyes riveted out on the reef. He offered nothing more, so I asked, “I’m going to try the beach break again tomorrow. It should be pumping if it’s not blown out. How about you?”

He angled his head slightly, his eyes still staring at the bay, “I’ll be here. One way or another, I’ll always be around this bay. See ya tomorrow, bro.”

Cody remained standing on the rocks with his eyes on the bay as I left to drive home. Surfers were often quiet, but Cody was quieter than most.

That evening, I laid in provisions for the storm; canned food, batteries, and fresh water. All the while, I found my mind wandering back to my day at the beach, not to the perfect waves, but the enigmatic Cody, so beautiful yet so sad. In many ways, he was very much my type, if only he could learn how to smile.

Saturday dawned to a rough and turbulent sky. Scratching the sleep from my eyes, I grabbed my binoculars to peer out my window at the bay, finding it storm-tossed and choppy, though the outer reef was breaking at forty feet, bigger than I’d ever seen it before. The bay itself was a large rectangle of water running parallel to the shore, bounded on either side by a rocky headland, the reef an area of shallower water running from headland to headland near the mouth of the bay. The choppy conditions meant that my short boards were useless; I grabbed my longboard, nine feet long and heavy, marred with countless dings and patches.

Arriving at the beach, an occasional gust of wind rocking my van, I noticed the dirt road heading out to the promontory. I drove out, reaching the point, looking out parallel to the reef break; the giant swells breaking against the point itself threw great columns of spray high into the air. With caution, I padded over to the railing, looking down into the mouth of hell itself. At the bottom of the seventy-foot cliff, the sea was in a fury, each wave smashing against the rocks, surging up the face of the cliff before retreating. Taking a few steps back from the precipice, I looked to my left, at the reef break, at a sight that made the violence below seem trivial by comparison. The view was spectacular; I was staring, end-on, at the reef break, watching as the giant swells grew to enormous heights before peaking, the already-huge breakers making the ground itself tremble where I stood. There were no tubes, just enormous walls of cascading white water, and I considered returning at the height of the storm, hoping to see into the tubes that would surely form as the waves grew fiercer yet. The shaking ground and gusting wind soon dismissed that notion from my mind; I’d have to be satisfied with the view from my apartment window.

I parked in my usual spot by the swaying palms. Taking my lunch but leaving my board in the van, for I was sure the beach break would be blown out, I trudged down to the beach, the wind tugging at my boardies, driving an occasional fleck of sea spray against the skin of my chest. Spying a familiar figure standing on the rocks, I walked over, taking note of the same pair of grubby, tattered, flame-print shorts, the only ones I’d ever seen him wear.

“Pretty blown out today, nothing rideable,” I said as I stood beside him, looking at the choppy bay.

A long silence stretched between us before Cody replied, his gaze fixed far from the shore break, “Not yet, anyway.”

Seeking shelter from the gusting wind, we walked back to the palm grove, Cody’s orange board leaning against a tree, marking our destination. “Pull up a palm, man,” he said, taking a seat on the sand beside his board.

I settled in an arm’s length to his side, opening the bag I’d bought along. In hopes of sharing lunch with him, I’d brought along two of everything, sodas and sandwiches, so I offered him a soda as I asked, “Hungry, bro?”

The way his eyes lit up both surprised and thrilled me. He accepted the soda and the proffered sandwich, devouring it with gusto. We sat together for a while, staring out at the storm-roiled bay, as the wind grew fiercer. My van had been the only vehicle in the parking lot, so I asked, “Hey man, you need a ride home?”

Cody looked at me, his expression neutral as he said, “Nah, man, thanks, but I’m really close.”

We sat there for perhaps another hour, astounding me that I could enjoy wordless company for so long. Cody was an enigma, one I was becoming quite interested in unraveling. His looks were, I admitted to myself, part of the reason, but there was more to it than that, though what, I couldn’t say.

By afternoon, the storm had grown in intensity and I had one last chore to do: taping the windows of my apartment. Reluctantly, I got up, not wanting to leave my new friend. “Will you be here after the storm,” I asked, “maybe we can catch a few sets.”

“I’ll be here, one way or another, dude. Thanks for lunch, it was great,” he said, offering his hand.

I reached out, the tingle I felt as my skin met his startling me. Laughing inwardly at my own over-active imagination, I took my leave of Cody.

Returning home, leaving my longboard in my van, I taped the insides of my front windows with the radio playing in the background, informing me that we would take the powerful right-front quadrant of the storm dead-on. I considered evacuating, but the sturdy house, well above sea level, was above the likely surge line and the wind was already strong enough to make driving hazardous. I wished I’d bought plywood for the windows, and hoped they would hold.

The night was a noisy one; the wind howling, the building trembling from the force of the rising gusts. I slept fitfully, waking to a morning like none other I’d known; intermittent driving rain riding upon the hurricane winds, the streets already littered with debris. A brief pause in the rain allowed me a view of the reef break. Seizing my binoculars, I looked out, bringing into focus a sight I’d never forget; monstrous breakers, over eighty feet high, their tops whipped by the wind, the sheer power of the waves enough to shake the earth itself.

Mesmerized by the sight, I stood in awe, until I saw a fleck of orange just beyond the break. Curious what the storm had in its grasp, I watched, my blood running cold as the orange flyspeck resolved, growing a pair of furiously paddling arms. Someone was attempting to surf the monster waves, the distinctive color of the board leaving no doubt as to his identity.

Reaching for the phone, I found it dead; gone along with the electricity, and with it my only way of getting help. Binoculars still in hand, I grabbed my keys, not knowing what, if anything, I could do. Charging down my stairs, the wind driving the rain against my bare skin with enough force to hurt, I fired up my van.

Racing for the beach, I plowed through the partially flooded streets, ramming through both the water and the storm debris, half-listening to the radio as it informed me that the storm had grown to a Category Five, its strongest winds expected to begin lashing the coast within the hour.

Upon reaching the beach I floored the accelerator, churning onto the now-sodden dirt road, its surface turned to sucking muck by the driving rain. Somehow, I’ll never know quite how, I reached the end of the road before the mud would allow no further progress. I stepped out, into the teeth of the storm, sinking to my ankles in the mud as I sheltered beside my van, looking through my binoculars at the reef break, searching it and the bay for any sign.

Within moments, my heart sank as I saw a chunk of orange board, the shattered remains of an evident wave-driven impact, bobbing in the roiling waters between the reef and shore breaks.

Panning my binoculars out along the giant break, I could only see angry waters, torn by nature’s fury. He was gone...

I sagged against the van, biting back a curse, as a movement, a distant speck, caught my attention. My binoculars made their way unbidden to my eyes, and I found myself again staring beyond the reef break, my heart again filling with hope, only to come crashing down as I realized the truth; Cody was alive, swimming against wind and current, but losing ground. There was no way he could avoid the break, and no way would he survive it. All I could do was stand there, watching as wind and current swept him to his death, unless...

Ripping open the back door of my van, I pulled out my longboard, struggling to hold onto it in the howling wind. Approaching the railing at the top of the cliff, I had no doubts that what I planned could never work, but I continued on, ignoring the logical part of my mind as it screamed warnings of my doom, focusing instead on my goal.

Straddling the railing above the precipice, looking down into the jaws of hell, the wind and spray nearly tearing me from my perch, I counted the seconds between the swells crashing into the cliff. After the next swell hit, I looked out to see the following one surging in. Waiting until it slammed into the cliff, I snapped my leg over the railing, pulling my board under me as I leapt into the void.

Hitting the peak of the rebounding wave atop my board, my impact softened by the frothing water, I pulled hard, scooting down the slope of the reflected swell as it returned to the sea, taking me away from the cliff. I paddled hard, desperate to pull clear before the next wave swept me to my death against the jagged rocks of the cliff.

Easing off only when the giant roller passed beneath me, I turned left, paralleling the reef break ahead, making sure to stay well beyond the break zone. Mountainous swells passed beneath me, lifting me seventy feet or more, the hurricane winds at their tops nearly blowing me off my board, as I struggled on through the violent seas.

Reaching the place where I’d seen Cody last, I found nothing, no sign, until I looked towards the shore, in the direction of the furious reef break. Silhouetted against the white spindrift I could see a head bobbing in the water, accompanied by an arm waving me away.

Paying no heed to the warning, I nosed towards the break, pulling hard, driven fast by the wind from behind, closing the distance almost in time. I pulled up next to him, spinning my board around to pull clear of the break as he grabbed onto the tail. I eased forward as I yelled above the thunderous roar, “Get on and start paddling.”

He did as I’d commanded, but it was no use, the current and the wind were too much for us to fight. We had no way to pull clear of the break and going over the falls of the monster breakers meant sure death on the shallow rocks of the reef.

I sat up for a second, squinting against the biting wind, to see death in the form of the next enormous set of swells marching in from the horizon. Cody saw it too, yelling above the roar, “Turn and take off, try to ride it out. I’ll paddle to boost you then drop off. It’s the only way, you can’t save us both.”

He was right about riding it out being the sole remaining option, a slim chance at best but the only one. Spinning the board around I yelled, “When we take off, pull yourself on and stay low, I’ll walk forward. I’m not leaving you, got it?”

Before he had time to argue, the first swell approached, looming huge at our backs, dwarfing us as we paddled hard. The board began to pick up speed as the leading edge of the giant swell tilted the surface of the sea beneath us. The monster began to crest behind us as we took off, plunging down the now near vertical wall. Struggling to stand, I edged forward as Cody lay prone on the tail. If the wave hadn’t been so enormous, I’d have never made the bottom turn to the left – as it was, I barely made it in time. As I stabilized, cutting across the face at the base of the wave, darkness enveloped us as the ninety-foot wave curled high over our heads, countless tons of water forming a tube at least forty feet in diameter, entombing us within the seething monster. The blast of air from the impact of the falls to my right came close to blowing me off the board, but I angled up the face, easing away from the death trap, knowing beyond doubt that any wipeout would be the end for us both.

Crouching down, struggling for balance in the gloom, I heard Cody yell, “Go for speed; unless you get out of this tube, you’re dead,” I saw him lift his body, clearly intending to roll off the board. My hand darted out to seize his wrist, leaving him no way of bailing out without dragging me off, too.

He got the message, resuming his place, leaning a little toward the face of the wave, as I crouched lower, easing towards the nose in search of speed angling down the choppy face. The roar of a thousand freight trains bombarding my ears. A blast of wind and spray from behind told me the wave had closed out. A glance ahead showing no light, no way out; I knew it was over for us both.

The monstrous tube began to fold in around us, shrinking, pushing us closer to the base of the falls and the fatal dashing against the rocks just yards below the surface. Churning white water ahead in the gloom signaled our end as I braced myself, taking what I knew would be my last breath as we entered the curtain of water.

The brute force of the water caused me to stagger back, the board bucking slightly as we emerged into the dreary light, the reason for the darkness at the end of the tube apparent in the dark cliff looming before us, running parallel to the path of the wave. I cut right, threading the narrow gap between the white water and the rocks, moving out ahead of the wave, missing the jagged rocks by barely a board-length. The monster behind us began to subside as it cleared the shallows, fading in the deeper water of the bay itself. Angling further to the right, I dropped to my knees as the leading edge of the white water caught us, the diminished wave still over thirty feet of fury. As the churning white water enveloped us, the force of it raising the back of the board, I felt the nose dig in, pitching us headlong into the maelstrom. Pressure from the wave above pounded against my eardrums, the roiling water tore at my body. The grip of the sea eased off at last, allowing me to pull for the surface.

Breaking through the foam to the air I so desperately sought, I inhaled deeply as I scanned the water. By my second breath, I could see Cody, scrambling onto my board, paddling hard in my direction from a dozen yards away. Reaching me as the next churning wave approached, he turned about as I hauled myself onto the tail, pulling hard, grabbing the rails as the churning white water washed over us, driving us forward.

We rode it out, the wave finally fading near the center of the bay, both of us lying on the board, gasping for breath, safe for the moment. With slow, easy strokes, we began paddling towards the beach, only the shore break between us and the assumed safety of sand.

The shore break, driven by the fury of the storm, loomed ahead; roiling white water, though lacking the force and danger of what we’d faced. Staying prone, we rode a ragged wall of white water towards shore, tobogganing through the foam, as the wave faded out to nothing and I felt my arm brush sand as the wave receded, leaving us on the storm-whipped beach, the surf line now mere yards from the trees. We left the board behind, staggering in the howling gale, pelted by the driving rain.

Leaning on each other for support, we stumbled through the whipping trees, reaching the parking lot as the wind continued to rise, the storm growing in fury with every passing moment.

“We need to make for high ground, to get out of the path of the storm surge,” I screamed over the howling wind, tugging Cody toward the street.

Dodging storm-blown debris, we stumbled up the street, towards my apartment, eschewing the homes we passed, for they were too low to survive the surge we felt sure was coming. A glance behind us revealed breakers pummeling the trees behind the beach as the first vestiges of the storm surge made landfall.

Reaching the steps to my apartment, we stumbled up, battered by the fierce winds and driving rain. Struggling to hold the door open against the wind, which was gusting to my best guess well over a hundred miles an hour, I pulled Cody inside, letting the door slam closed behind us.

A quick glance at my shuddering, bulging front windows told me that we were far from safe. Fearing that the windows would burst, I ripped the mattress from my bed, hauling it into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door, snapping on the battery-powered lantern for light, finally feeling safe enough to rest for a moment. My eyes fell on Cody, who stood uneasily beside me, looking shell-shocked. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I smiled, telling him, “We should be safe here.”

Leaning the mattress against the bathroom counter to make a shelter, I crawled in, motioning for Cody to follow. With some hesitation he did, lying on the floor beside me in the cramped confines, my arm ended up draped across his bare shoulders due to the lack of room.

After shoving the lantern a few feet from our heads, I rolled against Cody so that I could open the cabinet door, revealing my food and water supply. Cody’s eyes lit up as he spied the canned and packaged food, so I pulled out a bag of corn chips and a can of soup. Opening the pull top of the soup, I offered him a drink, which he took, all hesitancy vanishing. Without a word, we devoured the chips and soup, followed by more, then a bottle of water, which we shared.

Cody lay down on his back, with me squeezing in, facedown beside him, my arm coming to rest on his defined chest. I felt him tremble slightly at the contact, his unease apparent, so I kept my arm still as I lay my head beside his, wondering how to broach the uneasy silence that again stood between us.

The storm soon solved that issue; with a clatter and a roar, my front windows gave way, causing the thin walls of the bathroom to shudder. Startled, feeling the onset of fear as the building itself began to quake, I pulled closer to Cody.

I could feel his chest rise and fall, and more than once I felt his breath catch as if he was about to speak, though he uttered not a word. Turning to look into his blue eyes, where I saw both fear and despair, I gave him my best confident smile.

The building trembled beneath us, worse than before, as Cody asked calmly, “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

“Maybe,” I acknowledged, astonished by my own honesty, “but before we do, tell me why you were out there today, trying to ride the reef break in a hurricane on a fucking short board.”

Cody turned his head, still cradled in his hands behind his neck, staring at the ceiling as he replied, “I didn’t have a long board.”

I drummed my fingers once on his chest before saying, “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” as the building shook again, worse than before, the old timbers groaning from the strain.

Feeling Cody sigh, I lay still, until finally, he answered, “Wouldn’t you try it, if you knew you were going to die anyway?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I acknowledged, “but why do you think you are going to die?”

He was silent for a while, spurred only by the sound of a beam snapping to say, “My family, they... don’t want me anymore. I’m seventeen; I didn’t have anywhere else to go when they made me leave. All I had time to take was my two boards. I lived at the beach for a couple of days with nothing to eat; I didn’t know what to do. I figured it was over for me, and then I heard about the storm and remembered the stories I’d head of the reef break here. I traded my other board for a ride and a few days’ food. I figured if I was gonna go, I’d go out in style, doing something awesome; riding the biggest waves in the teeth of a hurricane.”

Something large slammed against the outer wall, the sharp blow causing Cody to shudder for a moment, before he added in a sad voice, “I saw how you got into the water; leaping off the point. That’s how I got in... When I saw you up on the railing, I tried to wave you back, warn you away...”

The building groaned constantly now, the roof shaking, pounding as if an angry giant wanted in, and wanted in bad. Rivulets of water trickled down from the mattress, puddling on the old linoleum floor on which we huddled. Feeling that time was running out, I asked, yelling above the rising noise, “Couldn’t you have gotten help somehow when you were thrown out of your house?”

Cody shifted slightly, his muscles tensing as he said, “I couldn’t even get my wallet. All I had was these shorts and my boards. I couldn’t even make a phone call, even if I could have thought of someone to call.”

A muffled thud against the mattress above him startled us both. Cody spun up on his side, staring at the mattress over his head, easing away from it as I rolled onto my side and moved back a few inches to give him room. I felt the cabinet handle dig into my back, so I pressed forward against Cody, chest to chest, my arm coming to rest on his side as our eyes met. His hand, with nowhere else to go, came to rest on my shoulder as I asked, spurred my memories of my own past, “Why did your family turn you out so suddenly?”

With the storm roaring around us, Cody turned his face partially away, “Something they didn’t like. You wouldn’t like it either. Don’t make me tell you; you’d make me leave too.”

“And just how the hell would I do that?” I asked, before reminding him, “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a Category Five hurricane. I doubt we could even get out of this apartment. Besides, I nearly died saving your life... I don’t care if you’re a serial killer; I wouldn’t turn you out in this storm. I don’t think we’re going to make it anyway, so get it off your chest...”

His voice so quiet against the fury of the storm, I could barely hear as he mumbled, “They found some things on my computer that they didn’t like...”

In spite of the danger from the storm around us, and Cody’s look of utter despair, I felt my sides begin to tremble as I stifled a laugh, “That sounds real familiar, dude, about like what happened to me this time last year. My folks didn’t totally disown me, but they came damn close. They invited me to leave a week later, the day I turned eighteen. We don’t talk much anymore; that’s why I live on my own.”

Cody’s eyes locked on mine, as if trying to read my soul as he asked, “So you’re... you’re like me?”

Answering with a nod, I saw his eyes change, beginning to sparkle; the despair replaced by something akin to relief, and perhaps even hope.

In a whisper Cody said, “I gave up. I wanted to die, not just from having nowhere to go, but because nobody wanted me.”

His hand moved, just a tiny amount, his fingers brushing my skin. I traced my fingers up his side as I said, “If we survive, stay here, with me...”

A smile, so long absent, lit Cody’s handsome face, filling the void its dearth had left so painfully evident. I felt the tension and reserve ebb from his body as he relaxed into me, the fingers of his hand now holding me rather than merely lying there as before. Feeling the warmth from his touch, I lost sight of his smile as I closed my eyes, leaning in towards him. For the briefest of moments, I wondered if I’d gone too far, or too fast. My fears departed, dispelled by the brushing of his lips against my own, his breath warm against my cheek as the hesitant caress of his lips became more insistent, his body melting into mine. His fingers, digging into the muscles of my back, drew us together as his tongue played against my lips.

I deepened the kiss, feeling him respond, but after a moment Cody pulled away, his eyes opening wide in surprise as he blurted out, “Drake, the noise...”

Listening for a moment, I heard nothing. Nothing... “Is it over?”

Cody’s hand found mine as we scrambled out from under the mattress. Around us, lit only by the lantern, lay pieces of sodden plaster, cast down from the ceiling by the leaking roof. Opening the door revealed the wet mess that had once been my tidy apartment, though it was largely intact except for the broken glass littering the floor near the window. Outside, the rain still fell, though with nowhere near its prior force, the wind subsiding to a troubled breeze.

“Old Miss Apuhau was right,” I said, squeezing Cody’s hand, “It ended fast, though I should have known; she’s always right about the weather.”

Turning to me, his eyes a swirl of confusion, Cody asked, “Did you say Apu-hau?”

“An old lady I know. She’s strange, but she befriended me when I moved here, right after the falling out with my family. She warned me about the storm, hell, she even told me that storms sometimes bring rewards for the brave,” I said, pulling his hand, still nestled within my own, to my chest.

Cody’s jaw dropped open, his blue eyes lighting up as he replied with a look of shock upon his face, “I doubt you’ll see her again.” My confused expression prompted a bemused smile from Cody, his thumb stroking the back of my hand as he continued, “Though if you do, I’d suggest thanking her, because Apu-hau is the name of the Hawaiian God of Storms!”