All night the gentle breeze was heard from inside the sitting room, where I sat watching a movie with my parents and two brothers. It is the family’s tradition to watch a movie together after dinner during holidays. I sat very close to the television as if I had something to say to those on the TV set. My father continued to look eastward towards the window at intervals; he was responding to distant gunshots that have become the city’s new tradition since the death of Caposo- a leader of a drug cartel, who was murdered in cold blood alongside with his dog. He was 50 but never got married; neither did he have a family member anyone knew of. I used to think his dog was going to inherit his ill-gotten wealth but no, doggie found time to die too.
For some reason, Dad stood up and left the sitting room. I was asking him a question but he left without answering. That was unlike him, but the movie before me had me captivated, so his change in attitude was no message at all. A few seconds later, mum followed him. I was sitting right in front of the television, while others sat behind me but I knew each person that left without turning to see them. Intuitively I also knew there was a change in the emotions of my parents. Dad came back into the sitting room and left again. When he came back again I turned to look at his face. He looked at me and my other two brothers, who were also looking at him at the time. He began to say something about cars, people, traffic, and noises outside. Before he was done making a meaningful sentence, I and my brothers were already making our way to the door. Our ears were now responding to noises we had no idea had been building up around the street we live in. On getting to the gate of our house, we discovered that cars were moving speedily past our house and people were behaving in a frenzied manner. People seemed to be in a hurry. My two brothers ran into the house, unsure of what was happening. What’s going on, I asked my mum. She said Elvis, you need to go in there and help your brothers pack some important things; we are leaving. That didn’t answer my question but it explained to me that this was not time to be asking many questions as was my habit.
We packed everything necessary and headed towards the garage, where dad was already, examining the fuel tank of his car. I may not know what the situation is right now but I thought this is not the best time for my dad or anyone in the world to be checking their fuel tank. The scene I saw in the street was like an apocalypse was about to happen and here was dad reluctantly checking his fuel tank. He was not actually reluctant but it felt like he was. My imaginary mind had begun to think the city was under attack by zombies. Since nobody has told me what was going on, my mind said it was zombies. What if there was no fuel in the tank? I thought to myself. While my mind was yet lashing my father and forming a picture of what the zombies may look like, a sharp cry from the garden struck a chord in my eardrum. My heart began to palpitate real fast. I could say my heart hit 20 beats per minute. I followed curiously behind my father who had left the fuel tank to see where the cry was coming from. When we got there, it was just Neuel, my little brother, in the dirt with blood dripping from his arm. Are you okay? My father said while rushing to pick him up. I slipped and hit my arm on this stone, pointing to the stone when I wanted to get my lucky hat from the treehouse. My brother tends towards being at the right place at the wrong time, so I was not surprised to see him in the garden at that hour. The sight of the blood was disturbing but I was glad it wasn’t something worse that had happened. I consoled him and my father got hydrogen peroxide and cotton wool to dress the wounded arm.
My mum came out of the house with joe, my other brother, ready and all packed to leave the house for good. Honey, we should get going, a hurricane is no joke, mum said. For the first time in the long night, somebody said the reason for the whole frenzy to my hearing. Wow! Did you say hurricane? I said. Yes, dad replied. A hurricane is building up some miles away from here, but we don’t know if or when it would get to the city Dad added. We had received an information a few days ago on the tendency of the occurrence of a storm. Nobody said it said it was a hurricane, neither did anyone say it was going to happen that soon. Informed or not, we had to move out now. We all entered Dad’s black sedan and moved out, not knowing if we were ever going to see the house again.
We moved into the road and then it dawned on me that we were actually leaving. It began to drizzle. Rain droplets had begun to appear on the windscreen of the car. I wanted to ask a question when joe asked Dad what mum meant by a hurricane.
I quickly jumped in to answer the question. I didn’t want to hear dad answer him. My dad loves to be emotional with joe; such emotions would heighten my already worried state. A hurricane is a violent wind that is capable of causing great damage to anything on its way, I answered. After I answered, everyone, became cold silent. There were sounds of horns blaring all around us. Police patrols were everywhere. They were helping to move people out of the city and make sure there was still maintenance of law and order. We got halted at a police checkpoint.
Sir, what area are you headed? a policeman asked dad. I am heading to Paris, dad replied. He looked into the back where I and my brothers sat. And then he asked if we could assist a young lady and her daughter whose car broke down. Dad hesitated while looking at mum. He obliged when it seemed he had gotten the consent he was seeking from mum. A young woman appeared with her daughter. Though I didn’t know how to feel, sharing the car with strangers, I was glad they are slim and beautiful. They came into the car and shared pleasantries and we drove off. Thanks to the police for warming up the car with two extra bodies.
Moving through the city, we came to a place where there was an accident. A biker had just been knocked down by a car. Such a night! The police were on the scene.
Cars were slowing down as they approached the scene. It was a bloody scene, I didn’t see the casualties but I saw there was blood on the floor, which was being washed away by the gradually increasing rain. It must have been the biker’s blood. I didn’t want to think about it.
The night was already worrisome enough; there was no need to add to the worries. Not everybody seemed to be worried. Before now we had come across a band of musicians who were playing and boozing by the roadside. They were singing aloud and playing their musical instruments. For some minute, I wanted to be part of these people because they looked happy and seemed like they were immortals. We were all smiling at the sight of these energetic and alien young men, except for mum who didn’t think it was funny.
About two hours later, the rain had become tense. Everyone in the car was sleeping except for me and dad. The slim lady made sounds that didn’t fit her looks. I felt like covering her face with a cloth or something. Sure, I didn’t.
I asked Dad why we were going to Paris. He replied, saying he has strong connections in Paris and had always wanted that we relocated to Paris. I liked the idea that we were going to Paris but couldn’t come to terms with the sudden transition. We will be back to saint-jean-de-luz after the storm if the house it is still standing, but if not we are relocating permanently to Paris, dad said. We got in and out of conversations before I fell asleep.
When I woke up in what seemed to be hours later, dad said we were in Paris. We were all up and shiny. We were now in Paris. It wasn’t raining in Paris. The horrors of the night were behind us now. I could see the Eiffel tower from a distance.
The massive structure signaled hope and the arrival of a better day. All hope was not lost. It’s just a storm. Thank you for reading.
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