Page 18 of Taming Waves

“Your turn,” she says to Anson, who is concentrating on his hand.

“Do you have any eights?” he asks.

She gives him a dirty look as she hands over the eight of hearts and eight of diamonds.

“Thank you, munchkin,” he bellows.

I lean over to her and whisper, “He cheats.” Her eyes go wide and snap to Anson.

“I do not. I’m just the master of Go Fish,” he defends as he lays down four eights.

Sebastian stands from the couch and walks to the front windows for the sixth time since we began the game.

“Any change?” I ask.

“The wind is getting crazy. I don’t like the way it’s looking,” he says.

“Did you try calling her again?”

“Five minutes ago,” he says, his voice laced with worry.

“Maybe we should go out and check on her,” I suggest just as a loud crack of thunder vibrates through the air.

“Yeah, I’m thinking so too.”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and dials his grandmother, Sabel. She and Sebby live across the street.

Ten minutes later, he walks Leia to their house while Anson and I put away leftovers. Then, the three of us raid the closet for rain gear and head to the beach in Sebastian’s Bronco.

We park at the Northeast Fifth Street public access and make our way to the location of the nest that is hatching. A small circle of people, wrapped in a large tarp to protect themselves from the rain, is standing around the foot of the nest. Sebastian walks over to them while Anson and I take a look at the nest.

The sand is fluttering, but there are no babies at the moment.

While Seb speaks to the group, I scan the beach. The waves are darker than usual—a deep gray mixed with a mossy green—churning with foam. As the wind picks up speed, they break closer to the shore and surge further inland, the sound thunderous and echoing across the beach. The horizon is a blur as thick clouds cast a shadow over the tumultuous water, signaling the storm’s rapid approach.

“Looks like this thing is coming in a lot faster than they predicted,” I shout to Anson.

He waves his phone screen in the air. “I just got an emergency alert. The eye is about ten miles away.”

Shit.

“Sebastian, did you hear that? We have about thirty to forty minutes before this thing slams into us,” I shout.

Sebastian jogs to us with his phone to his ear, and his forehead is creased with worry.

“Avie left alone on the ATV about forty-five minutes ago. They say she was going to check on the other nests,” he says, pulling the phone away. “Fuck, she’s still not answering her phone.”

“She probably can’t hear it over the ATV’s motor and the waves. Do they know where those nests are?” I ask.

“Northeast Twelfth, Northeast Twenty-Sixth, Northwest First, and Northwest Eighth,” he replies.

“Okay, she would have likely hit Northeast Twelfth and Northeast Twenty-Sixth already,” Anson surmises. “I bet she’ll head back from there.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “No. She’ll want to make sure the others are okay.”

I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Go. You find Avie, and we’ll get this crowd sent on their way. They need to get to shelter.”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll grab her and come back for you guys.”

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