Over the screaming wind a shrill, stuttering kind of noise comes from the street. Sounds almost like crazy laughter, rising and falling, falling and rising. Finally I can't stand it anymore and crawl over to the broken window to have a look. The crazy noise is coming from a stop sign at the corner of the street. The wind makes the sign quiver violently and bend almost to the ground, but the sign keeps popping back up, as if trying to shake off the great force of the hurricane. That's sort of how I feel, like that stop sign, quivering inside but fighting back. The noises the hurricane makes are like nothing I've ever heard before: The shriek of roof shingles exploding into the sky like flocks of frightened birds. Metal screaming as if in pain. Ripped-apart trees rising in a whirl, like ingredients in a giant blender. The eerie SNAP! and PING! as phone lines and power lines break away from the poles, uncoiling against the wet ground like giant whips. The hurricane keeps on coming. On and on it roars by like an insane train that never seems to end. Bandy keeps licking at my hand. He thinks if he's a good-enough dog I'll make it stop. I hug him closer. Excerpted from Zane and the Hurricane: A Story of Katrina by Rodman Philbrick All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
