Brandy and Riker Versus the Hurricane

September 15

The wind howled at the windows with the rain splattering over and over on the panes. Like the big, bad wolf, it seemed determined to blow the house down. Another rattle was all Brandy could take before she slipped out of bed, her toes momentarily curling in the soft carpet.

Her dog immediately stood up, stretched, and walked over, tail wagging slightly. Riker's ears fell flat against his head as the wind hammered yet again, but they perked up when Brandy's hand scratched him. Picking up on Riker's unease, Brandy picked up her cell phone to check the weather. "The storm can't get much worse, can it?" she said to the dog, or more so to herself.

As her numbers hit the keys to unlock the screen, the little light by the bed that she liked to read by flickered, then went out completely. True to form, the weather page refused to load. "That can't be good," Brandy muttered. Just then, the phone started buzzing in her hand with an emergency alert.

TORNADO WARNING IN EFFECT.

She had barely cleared the notification when another alert crossed the screen.

FLASH FLOOD WARNING.

"It's just another storm," she said mockingly repeating the words of the weather reporter from earlier that evening. Heaving a sigh, Brandy snagged a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself. "Come on," she said to Riker, patting her thigh. "Let's go downstairs."

If possible, the wind howled even louder outside of the bedroom. Brandy and Riker made their way through the living room to the staircase that led to the basement. Though it wasn't entirely finished, the concrete walls would offer more protection than the paneling on the upper levels. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Brandy flipped the light switch, already forgetting about the power. Feeling foolish, she flicked it off again and used her hand to guide herself along the wall until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It wasn't until she reached the end of the downstairs hall that she remembered that she could have used her phone as a flashlight.

"I must really be out of it," she murmured as she sat down with her back against the linen closet door. Riker didn't even wait for her to call for him. He curled up on the ground next to her, ears flat against his head again. At least she'd been right about the noise level, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

September 16

When she awoke, Brandy had to move her stiff limbs carefully so she could stand. Riker didn't help, his tail thudding between her body and the wall. Remembering to use her phone's light this time, Brandy made her way back upstairs. Everything seemed intact, if a little dark. She paused at the kitchen and peeked out trough the blinds.

The sky was ominously dark despite the day's early hour. Rain fell in sheets outside, the water indistinguishable from the grass of the yard. Brandy glanced from the window down to Riker, who wagged his tail again. She wrinkled her nose. "You're not going to go potty outside today, are you?" Riker shook from head to tail as if to confirm her suspicion. Brandy sighed, laid out some towels and spare puppy pads in the corner of the kitchen, then resigned herself to a quiet day without electricity.

By mid-day, she pulled out a small generator and run an extension cord through the kitchen window to be able to keep the refrigerator powered. By that evening, cell phone service was gone. Brandy pulled from the fridge what she'd need to eat then turned off the generator to conserve gas.

She went to the garage after that and started pulling down storage bins. Barely able to see from the dim light on her phone, Brandy searched through crafting supplies, forgotten sports equipment, and even just a completely empty bin before she found the one containing her camping gear. "Aha!" she said in triumph to the empty room. Extracting a headband with a bulky object on the front, she stepped back to examine her prize. She twisted the black rubber and grinned when a thin light shone back.

"Found my headlamp," she remarked to Riker as she re-entered the house. "Now at least I can find my way around the house at night." Riker, whose coppery head was buried nose-deep in his bowl, gave no response.

Brandy left her dog to his meal and went to her bookcase in search of a book to read, light in hand to guide her way.

September 17

With still no cell reception and no idea of when the power would come back, Brandy put the generator, a gas can, and a pack of food into the back of her Jeep. She whistled for Riker to hop into the back seat, a task he accomplished with all the grace of a dancing rhinoceros.

The rain had let up sometime during the night to a soft drizzle, easy enough to drive in but too heavy to take a walk. Riker's tail thumped against the seat, the only sound to break the silence in the vehicle since all the radio stations only returned static. "Seems like the damage was worse in other areas than it was for us," Brandy mused as they pulled out into the street.

While the area around her own home was mostly clear of any large trees, the houses around her were not so fortunate. Limbs hung over roofs, or through them. Fences lay flattened by toppled trunks. One half of an entire house was missing almost completely, presumably struck by a tornado or worse. Brandy's heart twisted at the sight, simultaneously fearful for the occupants and relieved that it hadn't been her, and guilty for the latter.

The entrance to her neighborhood was partially blocked by a felled tree, and Brandy drove around it carefully. After another twenty minutes with no sight of another person or even another vehicle, she turned around to go home. That seemed the most reasonable shelter for the moment, even if it wouldn't last much longer.