I made it a few hundred miles north of New Orleans when I stopped at a gas station. It was blowing pretty good but that's not unusual, and the clouds to the west didn't look threatening. Then I saw the newspaper stand. My eyes flared wide with the letters: KATRINA Category Five to Hit New Orleans. The small map showed it was heading due north right at the Gulf Coast, right where I wanted to be, right where I very nearly was right now. I wondered why the northbound traffic got so heavy. As soon as I filled up, I joined the rats running away. I'd been in tornados, even chased a few with some wild friends of mine, but a hurricane was a whole different critter, orders of magnitude over anything I'd ever been in before. For the first time since driving a hundred miles an hour escaping a tornado that turned on us during one of the chases, I was scared. Not just frightened, mind, but shaking hands, sweaty palmed, shivering, cowering in a corner and bawling like a kid scared.

Things were not looking good. Already the wind was shaking the motorhome on exposed corners and traffic was slowing to a crawl. The bloody, snarled, honking traffic was not being helpful. A quick look at the map showed a cross road that might get me east to another, secondary two lane highway that headed north through small towns but away from the snarled crap I was in now so I took the next exit and hoped I was making a good choice.

Driving along the narrow country road the wind was howling, trees leaning over the road in some places with various odd bits of junk flying through the air. I heard a few thumps as things hit the side of the motorhome then a branch flew across the road inches in front of the windshield and I nearly crapped my pants, opened my eyes and I was still alive and driving, shaking but driving. I made it to the expected turn and headed north but now more junk was flying past me and it was getting downright dangerous to stay on the road. About the time I was really getting worried, I saw a dilapidated sign for a campground, slowed and was nearly turned over by the wind. No one was about, the place was covered with branches and leaves whipping past at speed I'd not thought possible. There was a small building with its porch roof torn off that looked like a store, but like repairs had been ignored for some time. I found a spot in the far corner that wasn't too trashed and didn't have too many trees to blow over, turned into it and pointed the cab north away from the wind.

When I turned the motor off, hands still shaking, I finally heard the wind at its true self; screaming, moaning, crying, shrieking, howling and a few other things that were right out of a Lovecraft nightmare. The radio was broadcasting warnings, not that they were needed with hundred mile an hour winds, but they did give the current position and speed of advance of the hurricane. It had veered slightly east, away from my hidey-hole, but it was still going to be bad and it had a couple days to get worse. The only thing I could do was gape at branches and other unknown junk (some things were blurred out by sheer velocity) tearing past the windshield and hope I'd get through it.

A day and a half later the wind died down to a mild maelstrom, the camp was a mess and a branch had put a nice spider in the passenger side of the windshield. Outside, the water had come up to the axles but seemed to be receding a little, nothing more to worry about in regards getting flooded out if the rain had already spent itself. I took stock of my situation and sat down with a cup of coffee, thankful to be alive and in good health. With nature's ferocity I'd seen over the past thirty six hours, I knew there had to be serious casualties from it all, but in this small camp with precisely one motorhome in it, all was relatively calm. The world didn't look too bad from the front seat with cup of hot coffee in hand.

By the afternoon the wind died down considerably. In an hour it went from right brisk to near calm, like it had just gotten too tired to keep blowing, rolled over and went to sleep. I went outside and waded around the camp just happy to be alive to feel the water sloshing around my legs, a heavy cloud bank fading to the north, the sun coming out to heat the earth once again. Even though the humidity went right up to full sweat level, it was such a good feeling being alive after thirty six hours of relentless terror I hardly felt it at all. Even got the barbecue out to do a steak I was so giddy at the wonder of being able to feel and see, no broken bones, no serious damage to worry about, the world seemed a wonderful place to be. By the time I had things going good, the water had gone down to just ankle deep and I ate one of the most delicious meals I could remember for a long time. All was well in my little world.

But while cleaning up I saw something move in the treeline. I stared but didn't see anything so went back to cleaning up the dishes. Then I saw something move again, this time a flash of yellow amongst the greens and browns. I faced partially away and turned my eyes to watch the trees. Sure enough, there it was again.

"Hey there!" I called out. "Over in the trees. I can see you. Are you alright?"

The movement stopped but then a face came around the edge of a tree, a young face, round and small. As I watched, a girl stepped out. I was so surprised at seeing a child out after the storm I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not.

"Hello there. You can come out if you want. If you'd, like I have a bit of food left. Come on over and have something to eat if you're hungry," I called out.

She came out from behind the tree fifty yards away, stood there a minute then move closer, stopping to watch me before resuming her approach.

When she was almost to the table I asked, "Hungry?" and got a tiny, shy nodding of her head, but her eyes showed her hunger. "Sit right here and I'll get something for you. Would a sandwich be okay?" She nodded again, still looking worried or scared or desperate, I don't know what, so I climbed into the motorhome and slapped together bread and several pieces of luncheon meat.

When I came out her eyes locked onto the sandwich like a hawk targeting a mouse. Nothing in her world existed but that sandwich. I set it down in front of her, waited a moment until she reached for it and went back inside for something to drink. By the time I got back outside the girl had consumed half the sandwich and was working hard at ensuring there were no remainders. Though her physical condition was saddening to my heart I couldn't help but smile watching her eat with such innocent abandon. ......(cont)