Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders Read online

  “Shit, you’re right. If she doesn’t get my message, she’ll be stuck.” The thought of his baby sister in dire straits without him to protect her sent chills down Clay’s spine.

  Jackson turned his phone so Clay could see the screen. “Tulane’s canceled classes.”

  Clay didn’t have time to think about why Jackson had such a sudden interest in Clara. He opened his door and said, “Let’s get this stuff unloaded.”

  Once they delivered the supplies, Clay hit the interstate. He’d called his father on the landline and learned that no one had been able to reach Clara because the cellular circuits were already jammed. The evacuation order hadn’t even come down and the town had already gone mad.

  “Hey, she got my text. She’s waiting for us.” Jack’s demeanor changed from mopey donkey to what Clay imagined was an astronaut being rocketed to the moon.

  And Clay was once again wondering why Jack was so worried about Clara.

  *

  Traffic was building to the north, but they headed south. When they pulled up to Clara’s apartment, some of her neighbors were outside, huddled and talking, while others were loading their belongings—all their belongings, from the look of it—into vehicles. He stepped from the SUV, and several pairs of eyes followed him. Jack ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

  A woman with a child in tow approached him.

  Kind hazel eyes met his. “Excuse me, sir, are you a fireman?”

  “That’s right. East Baton Rouge Parish.”

  “Oh.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you know if an evacuation order will be issued for New Orleans?”

  He wasn’t allowed to reveal that information, so he hesitated. The woman squinted from the bright sunlight as she looked up at him.

  “Personally, if I had a young child to care for, I’d pack up and leave as soon as possible.”

  She caught the sincerity in his voice and nodded. “Thank you.” She pulled her child by the hand and turned to walk away.

  “Miss?”

  She turned to him, but kept walking backwards. “Yes?”

  “Go fill your gas tank right away.”

  She pulled her key fob from her pocket and changed direction, heading toward the covered parking area.

  When Clara answered the door, Clay was still on his way up the stairs and she’d yet to see him. But as soon as her eyes landed on Jack, she jumped into his arms and they hugged tight. Clay hadn’t noticed them ever being that close before. Pulling up behind them, he cleared his throat. Clara opened her eyes, and Jack released the hold he had on her.

  “Clay!” She jumped into his arms just as she had Jack’s. “Thank you for coming.” He lowered her so her feet were back on the floor. She grasped his left hand and Jack’s right, making a circle. “I’m so glad you guys are here. When I got home neighbors started talking about the last storm and how bad it had been, and I was getting really nervous.

  Jack spoke up before Clay could say anything. “Nothing would keep me from getting to you.”

  Clay noted their intense looks, but he didn’t want to acknowledge where his thoughts were going. His baby sister was eighteen; in comparison, Jack was twenty-eight. He felt their eyes on him and shook his head to clear his mind.

  “Jack’s right; we would have come for you no matter what.”

  She released their hands. “I’ve packed some bags.”

  They crossed the threshold and each lifted a bag. “We’ll be leaving your car here,” Clay said when she jingled her keys.

  Clara’s brow furrowed. “Can’t I follow behind you?”

  They waited as she locked her front door. “We have a better chance cutting through traffic in the department vehicle.”

  Clay and Jack folded themselves into the SUV, but Clara stood frozen, staring at her neighbors, some of whom she no doubt knew well. She chewed her lip as she looked across the parking lot at the families loading their cars to escape the storm.

  Clay rolled the window down. “Clara, get in the truck.”

  She opened the door and jumped in. “Did you tell them about the evacuation?”

  “You know I can’t do that, but I did tell them if it were me, I’d get the hell out of here as soon as humanly possible.”

  She leaned up from her position in the back seat so that her head was between them. “Thank you for coming to get me. I know you’re horribly busy.”

  Clay met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Baby girl, I would fight a tornado to get to you.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder.

  Jack fiddled first with his phone and then the truck radio until Celtic rock filled the SUV.

  “What is this?” Clay asked.

  “Flogging Molly.” Jack and Clara answered in unison, then Jack smiled and Clara giggled as they made eyes at one another.

  A gold and purple bag caught Clay’s eye as Clara shook it between the seats.

  “Guess what I’ve got in here?”

  She was so damn cute with her dimples shining at him in the mirror.

  “Clara, you can’t seriously be sporting that thing around the Tulane campus,” he said.

  She cocked her head and pulled the bag back, as if inspecting it for the first time.

  “Why not? It’s a perfectly good backpack.”

  Jack reached over and slapped the pack. He shrugged. “It’s not like the Green Wave is going to take on the Tigers anyway.”

  Clay laughed. “True enough. So what’s in the bag?”

  A zipper wrenched, and then Clara was holding a box next to her face, showcasing it Price Is Right style. “Aunt Sally’s original Creole pralines.”

  Clay looked at Jack and tapped the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. “You could search the world over, but you’d never find a better sister.”

  Jack lifted his hands. “Nobody’s going to argue that.”

  “And”—the rustling of plastic came from the back seat—“I didn’t forget you, Jack.” A praline found its way into Jack’s lap. “I got you the ones laced with Tabasco.”

  Clay’s brow shot up as Jack rotated toward Clara.

  “A little sweet with a little heat—these are the best.”

  “Remember the last time I brought these, Jack?” Her hand squeezed his upper arm. “It was summer time. You and the boys were at the estate, and I happened upon all of you skinny dipping in the lake.” She patted Jack’s arm. “You too, Jack. What was that about?”

  “We’d been hunting, and it was hot as a two-dollar whore at shore leave.”

  “All I know is that after I saw three of my brothers emerge bare naked from the lake, I wanted to poke at my eyes with hot needles.”

  Jack cocked his head at her. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “Trust me, it’s not dramatic enough.”

  “It’s not like you haven’t done it.” Jack spoke around a mouthful of praline.

  Clara’s jaw dropped as she gasped, “That’s not true.”

  Clay laughed. “It’s true, Clara. You were about… How old would you say, Jack?”

  “Hmm, let’s see… I’m twenty-eight now, so I guess Clara would have been about ten.”

  Clay cocked his head. “Lake gets a lot of action.”

  Jack turned and winked at Clara. “Luckily we’re not related; wouldn’t want to have to burn my eyes out.”

  Clara swatted at his shoulder.

  They made good time considering the roads were packed. When they got into Baton Rouge, Clay was considering ways to get Clara united with the rest of the family in Whiskey Cove.

  “I’ve got to see about some things, so I’ll take Clara into Whiskey,” Jack offered.

  Clay nodded. He wouldn’t ask the question burning in his brain. He just wouldn’t go there. He thought about the math. They’d celebrated Clara’s birthday this past summer. She’d graduated from high school a year early, at seventeen. She’d been eighteen for a few months only, so that would mean they’d been toge
ther while she was underage. No, he wouldn’t ask because if there were something going on between them, he’d have to kill Jack, and he didn’t relish the thought of doing that to a dear friend. Clay shook his head. It was a ridiculous notion. They were all friends, so why wouldn’t Jack worry about her? If the situation were reversed, he’d have done the same for Jack’s sister.

  Still, he glared at Jack for good measure before turning to kiss his baby sister on the cheek and hug her. “Call me when you get there. Love you.”

  He gripped Jack’s shoulder and squeezed harder than usual, pulling him aside. “Make sure your intentions with my sister remain friendly. And get your ass back here asap. Department’s going to need you.”

  Jack’s eyes got slightly smaller before they leveled out. “I’ll be here.”

  ***

  4

  The following two days were a blur. They’d made preparations and evacuated the town. Finally a lull hit and they were all blowing off steam around the department poker table.

  “I call and raise you a bag of sour cream and onion chips.” Clay reached forward and dropped the chips on the middle of the table. “Jack, you’re up.”

  Jack emerged from the bathroom adjusting his fly. He stroked his chin. “I call.” He looked around for his stash. “Where’s the honey bun I had here?”

  Clay rustled an empty plastic wrapper between his fingers.

  Jack pointed. “Is that it?”

  “I think you mean was, and yes, it was.”

  “Fuck it, I fold. I’m bored as a slug anyway.”

  Clay stood and threw down his cards. “I’m out too.”

  Ace let out an exasperated sigh and plunked down a glass bottle with theatrical-grade force. “Pumper is back on the wagon and has donated a two-hundred-dollar bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. You pussies get your asses back in the game.”

  Clay waved him off and followed Jack across the large room and out to the garage, stopping when Jack leaned a shoulder against one of the brick pillars of the open bay doors. The winds had picked up, but were still under hurricane force. Clay overturned a five-gallon bucket and sat, watching the light debris sweep down the black-tarred streets.

  “I wanted to thank you for seeing Clara safely home.”

  He nodded. “No thanks required, but you’re welcome.”

  “Did you stay the night?”

  Jack’s lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed as he turned to Clay. “Just say it; you’ve been skirting around it for days.”

  A yellow lab running down the road caught in Clay’s peripheral vision, and he broke the intense stare they shared. Shit, Jack’s reaction said it all. Did he really want to get into the nuts and bolts of their status?

  As Clay had focused on preparing the town shelters, he’d thought of the families that might seek protection there and he’d prayed that all who did would remain safe. Right now Clara’s safety was what was most important to him.

  “Know what, Jack? I trust you. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve been part of our family for at least a decade.” Clay’s eyes narrowed as his sights settled on Jack. “I know you would never do anything to hurt any one of them.” Jack’s jaw ticked as he folded his arms across his chest.

  From the bay doors of the station, Clay could just make out the highway. Traffic had slowed to a crawl on the I-10 and had been stalled for about five hours, but now the roads were beginning to clear. The only thing left to do was sit and wait for the fallout.

  ***

  The next morning Clay woke at the station. He dressed in his rain gear and walked the few yards that separated his house from the Fighting Nineteenth. With each step he fought to maintain his footing. The wind and rain whipped his exposed skin, and he made a point to watch out for flying debris. He knew the power would be out shortly, and he needed to power up his home generator to keep the twenty-five pounds of backstrap he had on ice from spoiling. Security should have been his biggest concern but when he recalled the taste of the sautéed meat with hoecakes and fresh molasses syrup, he’d decided to risk injury from flying objects just to assure it would keep.

  He made sure his own place was ready for the winds and rain and then returned to the station, directing the guys through cleaning and drills and more cleaning, anything to keep them alert and busy.

  The storm had gained strength overnight and was due to make landfall as a category five, a dangerous scenario given the already saturated earth.

  As the outer bands of the hurricane hit, the rain was steady and winds were enough to blow debris down the street, mostly just loose tree limbs, litter, and flimsy sheet metal. They’d yet to be hit with the western, and worst, edge of the storm. The few calls that had come in were injuries from wind driven rubble.

  By nightfall he and the rest of the team had enjoyed two meals served by none other than Keith in his French attire. The kid had mellowed and was now being a good sport about his discipline. His attitude hadn’t faltered when Augie had shown up and swatted his ass with a wooden spoon during dinner. He embraced the ribbing, and now Clay had a shot of his tighty-whitey briefs and his red thighs as he held the skirt up to give Augie easy access.

  “Ouch!” the kid shouted as he leaned over and held a basket of rolls.

  “It’ll be ten swats the next time my roll isn’t warmed. Now get out of here, and might I recommend a full Brazilian for that bush of yours.”

  Laughter raced around the table.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Augie jumped up to answer his ringing phone, walking to the far end of the dining room as he listened. Clay watched and saw his face turn from playful to determined. He slowly paced as he talked and then he stopped. His head rose until he found Clay’s gaze. He flipped his phone shut and motioned for Clay to meet him in his office.

  Clay left the guys at the table, still laughing. Augie was seated at Clay’s desk, his fingers steepled in front of him.

  “Roof over the kitchen caved in at the high school. Everyone is fine and the shelter is going to stay up and running, but most of the food was ruined. They’re sorting it now.”

  “We can get a truck over to the food bank and make a delivery once the water subsides.”

  Augie squeezed the fingers on one hand and then the other, sending a long ripping sound through the quiet room, a habit he indulged in when he was anxious.

  “When do you think the roads will clear?” he asked.

  “Three days, if this is anything like the last one.”

  Augie nodded. “I’m in the rig so I’m going to head on over there and see what, if any, rationing needs to be implemented.”

  He stood and they exchanged a hand squeeze and a pat on the shoulder.

  “Radio if you need anything,” Clay said.

  “Will do.”

  As weather conditions worsened, the phone lines began to light up. Jack and Clay were sent to answer a call regarding an elderly woman having an episode with her heart.

  On the way, they ran into severe street flooding. The deep water blocked their access to the neighborhood where the woman lived.

  Looking out of the passenger window, Clay thought of those who might not get the help they needed. The blond girl with the steel gray eyes filled his mind. He clicked his tongue. “Rivers and bayous are all full from the other storms.”

  They’d had a busy year with two tropical systems and at one point, twenty-one straight days of rain.

  Jacked peered out over the steering wheel. “Should have brought the ladder truck. We’ll have to pull over here and walk in.”

  Clay nodded. They parked the ambulance on high ground and put on their bulky storm gear. They would wade through the water on foot to get to the elderly woman. Hopefully they’d be able to reach her in time.

  ***

  5

  Today was officially Eve Ivey’s first hurricane experience. She wasn’t thrilled about her situation. She would have left and gone to a hotel or rental out of harm’s way, but when Mrs. Howard’s son called
asking if she could possibly wait with his mother until he arrived, she’d had no choice. Eve’s neighbor was in her eighties with limited mobility and heart problems. Mrs. Howard, Ruth, wore a pacemaker, though Eve didn’t know the extent of her health issues. So Eve had waited for her son to arrive, but he never did. She’d been unsuccessful reaching him by phone. She guessed he couldn’t get through the traffic as they’d turned all lanes, southbound included, to northbound lanes for a mass exodus of the area.

  Eve had set up provisions according to the hurricane guide she received at the super market checkout line. There was a tracking guide inside with an X-Y grid. Eve thought that was silly since the news channels pretty much offered around the clock coverage and they all knew it was headed straight for them. They were currently listening to the exhausting storm coverage that Eve had turned off twice. Ruth was beside herself with worry and kept turning it on to watch the encroaching storm on radar. Watching made Eve uneasy, so she’d started reading an e-book.

  When Ruth went to sleep, Eve turned off the television again. With the house quiet, the sounds outside were magnified, and she realized the winds had picked up considerably. They howled and whistled, and in general the storm sounded like a train humming down a track. She peeked out the living room window, gasping when she saw that the curb was no longer visible and the street flowing with water. She thought about the recent tropical systems that had dumped twenty-plus inches of rain, and yet had left the streets clear. She wondered what that meant. Was the storm almost over? She didn’t think it was—not from what the forecasters had been saying—and she had an uneasy feeling because she’d seen from the media coverage of other storms what could happen when infrastructures broke down.

  Wet gasps came from the other side of the room. Eve hurried over to Ruth, who was unable to catch her breath. Eve knelt in front of her. “Mrs. Howard… Ruth? What’s wrong?”

  “My nitro pills.”

  She fumbled with a chain around her neck. Eve reached for it and pulled it over her head.

  “Unscrew it, dear.”

  Eve smiled. Ruth was always so kind, even when she was ill. Eve poured the pills into the woman’s hand and watched her place one under her tongue. Eve tried to call Ruth’s son, Don, once more, but the call wouldn’t go through.