“Wind’s getting gustier,” Eric said, dripping rain. He picked up his phone and texted someone. “Soon it’ll be hard to stand up.”

“Oh,” said Janine, thinking of Beth. “I hate to think of her out there by herself.”

“I’ve never heard of anything happening to a weather reporter,” Eric said. “Ever.”

“What about those storm chasers?” Donald asked.

“That’s for tornadoes,” Eric said. “A hurricane is different. More predictable.”

“Tell that to the Katrina victims,” Donald said.

“In comparison.”

“There she is!” Janine said. She turned the volume way up. Beth stood near a pier as waves crashed behind her in a gray sea. She held the microphone with one hand and kept her hood up with the other as rain lashed her parka. She had a pleasing on-camera voice—loud enough to compete with the sound of the storm and the surf, but not panicked. “The normally bustling streets of Sarasota are unrecognizable today as tourists and residents alike have evacuated Helen, likely to make landfall as a Category 1 storm later tonight,” she said. “Behind me the Venice fishing pier is being battered by wind and waves, but we have not had any reports of damage yet.”

“The Weather Channel,” Tom said. “Big time.”

“Oh,” said Janine, wiping away tears. “Look at her.”

“My mom watches the Weather Channel all day,” said Donald. “She leaves it on steady, programs in wherever I am so she can keep track. She’s probably got it on right now. I gotta tell her I know a Weather Channel star. I’m gonna email her.”

“I should call Rick,” Janine said, reaching for her phone. She punched in the numbers with shaking fingers, held it up to her ear. On television, they cut away from Beth. Janine wondered if what she’d said was true—if residents were also evacuating, or if that was just meant to make the report more exciting. It did seem quiet along their stretch of the key, all the businesses closed down. Even the gas station was darkened and empty, though no one had bothered to board it up.

“Eric, the internet’s out,” Donald called.

“That happens,” Eric said. “In a hurricane. Probably won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Shit,” said Donald. “Can you fix it?”

“No,” said Eric, looking at his phone. “I’m not getting a good signal either.”

“Honey?” Janine held her hand over one ear. “Watch the Weather Channel. We’re safe here, just riding out the storm, plenty of food, good company. Love you!”

She snapped her phone shut. The lights flickered.

“Stay on,” Janine pleaded.

“Don’t do this to us, Helen,” Donald commanded the ceiling. He closed and unplugged his laptop.

Then it was dark.

It was very dark, and very quiet except for the sound of rain battering the roof.