Almost there.
Another cluster of small but uninhabited islands tells me that I’ve reached the Caribbean, my first target for my killing spree. While I’ve slowed down a little, my wind field’s expanding, which is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because my winds will reach islands even if I remain out at sea, but a curse because I still don’t know who to choose: Helene or me?
Since I’ve started my journey, I’ve seen more good than bad, and these Hurricane Hunters aren’t helping. They’re working so hard in such a dangerous environment. I follow them through my eyewall each day to ensure they escape safely. I don’t think I’m a hurricane yet, but I know I’m getting close.
I need a moment to reflect, so when my eye reaches an island outlier, I drop down toward the sandy beach and clear blue water to assess my damage so far.
Palm trees litter the beach, and a few crabs and birds are buried in the sand. There’s also something else—a wooden plank? Yes, it is, and there’s another one beside it, and another one.
I follow the planks around a point, and that’s when I see it—a sailboat. A sailboat snapped in two, with a mangled, bloody figure inside it.
Oh, God, I’ve killed someone!
My world freezes. All I see is the destruction, the mangled man, and then the day Mom and I died after leaving our island, caught in a storm and capsized just like him. I’m so angry at humans, so I shouldn’t feel this much emotion, but the man looks no more than twenty-five. The worst part is, I can’t do anything. I can’t give him a proper burial, and I can’t tell him I’m sorry. I can’t even cry, dammit!
No, I don’t want this. Stop! I don’t want this! I don’t want to be Mom, I don’t want to be Katrina! Mother Nature, please!
The rest of my eye passes over the island and my victim, and the area darkens.
Thunder booms, lightning flashes, and I’m sucked back into my eyewall like a vacuum, twisting and turning in my growing winds.
Tall waves slam the beach below, and it isn’t long until the sailboat disappears from my sight. The Hurricane Hunters soon enter it, and we fight my eyewall together, eventually reaching my eye again. I can’t mourn that sailor; I can only continue growing.
The Hunters scan the area, but I stay behind, hoping that Mother Nature will recognize my grief and stop me from becoming no more than a Category 1.
I can’t do this. How could Mom and Katrina be so heartless? That man was only twenty-five. What if he had a wife? What about a young child?
No, this isn’t who I am. Humans are cruel, yes, but they’re also alive, like me, and now I am more alive than ever because that ride through my eyewall proved only one thing:
I am now Hurricane Erin.
ns216.73.216.174da2
and then Add to home screen.