Hurricane Joe Read online

  “The kid is out like a light. Just put something heavy on it.”

  Grady got up and moved a giant forty-eight-inch TV onto the lid of the crate. Then he turned and ran down the stairs.

  Wilson looked at me but didn’t say anything.

  Outside the warehouse, the hurricane raged on—even stronger and fiercer than before. Rain pounded on the roof so hard I was afraid it would cave in. A giant wave crashed against the side of the building and shook it from top to bottom.

  Even Wilson had to flinch.

  “Scared, Wilson?” I said.

  He glared at me. I raised my chin and held his gaze. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw the lid of the crate slowly rise.

  It’s Joe. He’s okay.

  “Of course I’m not scared,” Wilson snarled.

  “Really?” I said calmly. “You should be.”

  He scoffed. “Why?”

  “Hurricane Joe is here,” I said.

  WHUMP!

  The giant TV set crashed to the floor.

  Joe jumped out of the crate—and leaped onto Wilson’s back.

  THUMP!

  They hit the floor and rolled. I grabbed a ceramic vase off the shelf behind me and smashed it over Wilson’s head.

  CRASH!

  He slumped to the floor. I reached for Joe’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go! Through the window!”

  We turned and started climbing the shelving unit like a giant ladder, scrambling up as fast as we could. Halfway to the top, I felt the rain lashing down from the open window above us. Just a few more feet and—

  Someone grabbed my ankle.

  I looked down. It was Grady, climbing up after us. Right behind him was Wilson, grasping a shelf with one hand and reaching for Joe with the other.

  “Joe! Lookout!”

  Wilson’s hand wrapped around Joe’s ankle and started pulling him down.

  Another wave crashed against the side of the building. The beams inside cracked and split. The ceiling buckled. The wind howled like some sort of wild animal caught in a trap.

  And then something happened that none of us could ever have imagined.

  The wind ripped the roof off.

  15 Hurricane Joe

  With a single deafening roar, the whole roof was wrenched right off the top of the building—exposing us to the killer wind and rain of Hurricane Joe.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  One second the roof was just a few feet above our heads, protecting us from a full-blown hurricane. The next second it was gone.

  Gone!

  Totally blown away!

  Nobody spoke. Nobody screamed.

  The four of us were in shock.

  Wilson, Grady, Frank, and I clung to the shelving unit, staring wide-eyed at the stormy sky. Another huge wave crashed against the building and flooded the lower floor.

  Then the water started rising.

  I’m sure all of us were thinking the same thing.

  What a way to die.

  But then I realized I had to do something if I wanted to survive. I scrambled to the top of the shelving unit and grabbed Frank’s arm. Pulling him up, I pointed to the window.

  “You first!” he shouted over the howling wind.

  I glanced down at Wilson and Grady.

  They were still clinging to the shelves, staring down in disbelief. Another wave surged through the warehouse, ripping through another wall.

  “Go, Joe! Don’t look back!”

  Frank shoved me through the window.

  “Frank! Wait!” I shouted back at him.

  “What?”

  “The pier! It’s gone!”

  I gazed down at the churning water below the window. The docks were completely flooded.

  Frank poked his head out to see for himself.

  “What should we do?” I shouted.

  “Jump!” he yelled back.

  “But Frank—”

  “We can’t stay here! We’ll be crushed!”

  Suddenly the warehouse shifted and swayed. Beams and floorboards cracked and broke apart. Then a massive gust of wind started tearing the whole building apart.

  “Jump, Joe! Jump!”

  I jumped.

  Splash!

  I hit the water hard, plunging down, deep beneath the waves. For a second I was afraid I was going to drown. But then I remembered the ultra-slim life vest underneath my Windbreaker.

  Groping for the pull-string, I gave it a hard tug.

  Whoosh!

  The vest filled up with air—and carried me to the surface. My head popped out of the water. Gasping for air, I started swimming for the shore.

  “Joe! Help me!”

  I turned my head and spotted Frank about twenty feet away. He was bobbing up and down in the waves—and having a hard time staying afloat.

  “Your life vest!” I yelled. “Use your life vest!”

  My brother dipped down and disappeared.

  Frank? Frank!

  I started to panic. But then I saw my brother shoot up out of the water, his life vest filled with air. He waved his arm and started swimming toward me.

  CRRRRRUUUUNCH!

  A loud—and terrifying—sound made us both turn around and look.

  It was the warehouse.

  The storm tore a huge hole right through the middle of it, slamming the building like a sledgehammer and sending pieces of wood and debris splashing in all directions.

  Then, with another loud crunch, the warehouse collapsed—and disappeared into the water.

  I looked back at Frank. “There’s no way Wilson and Grady survived that.”

  My brother sighed long and hard. Then he nodded to something behind me. I turned and saw a bunch of wooden crates floating toward us.

  “Grab onto one!”

  We started swimming toward them, but it was hard to make any headway with the strong current. Finally we each managed to reach the crates. Clinging onto the sides, we kicked our legs and tried to set a course toward the shore.

  After a while, the rain started slowing down, and so did we.

  “Frank! I’m getting tired!”

  “Hang in there!”

  “Are we going the right way?”

  “I sure hope so!”

  I have to admit: I was getting a little worried. The tides were rising, and I couldn’t even see the shoreline through all the rain.

  Suddenly I spotted something.

  “Frank! Look!”

  I pointed to a pair of flashing lights coming toward us through the mist.

  “It’s a rescue boat!” I shouted. “We’re saved!”

  We waited for the boat to get a little closer. Then we started yelling and waving our arms in the air.

  “Help! Help! HELP!!!”

  The rescue boat slowed down and veered toward us.

  Yes!

  A couple of rescuers pulled up beside us. “We got you, boys,” said a tall, balding man. “Just give me your hand.”

  He and his partner reached down and pulled Frank and me out of the water and into the boat. We stumbled on board and started to thank our rescuers.

  But then we noticed that we weren’t the only ones they had rescued.

  No. It can’t be.

  Wilson and Grady sat in the back of the boat, dripping wet and shivering.

  “Hello, boys,” said Wilson, with a smirk.

  The tall rescuer introduced us. “That’s Wilson and Grady,” he said to us. “They’re members of our team.”

  I started shaking my head. “They’re criminals, that’s what they are.”

  The tall man looked at me like I was crazy. “What are you talking about?”

  “Those are the guys who are behind all of the burglaries,” I said. “They faked the hurricanes so people would evacuate their houses.”

  Wilson scoffed. “He’s lying. The kid’s delirious from being in the water so long.”

  The tall man looked into my eyes. “You must be mistaken, young man. Wilson and Grady
are emergency rescuers. I’ve worked with them for over a year now.”

  The other man turned and said, “I think you boys should sit down and relax.” He nodded toward the seats next to Wilson and Grady.

  Frank and I sighed and sat down.

  What choice did we have? The rescuers refused to believe that their coworkers were crooks.

  Wilson and Grady didn’t even look at us. They just sat there while the other rescuers went back to work, manning the controls and searching the water for survivors.

  Then they made their move.

  Wilson grabbed Frank by the throat. Grady did the same to me. Standing up, they pushed us backward until we were hanging over the side of the boat.

  Then they shoved us downward, lower and lower.

  Water splashed over our faces.

  They’re going to kill us!

  Suddenly I felt something wrench Grady away from me. Another hand pulled me up as I gasped for air. I opened my eyes to see the tall man grabbing Wilson by the shoulders. With a strong jerk, he threw him off of Frank and helped my brother into the boat.

  The two rescuers shoved Wilson and Grady to the floor.

  “So the kid was right,” said the tall man. “You’re criminals, aren’t you?”

  Wilson and Grady glared back without saying a word.

  “No answer, huh?” The tall rescuer shook his head. “That’s okay. You have the right to remain silent.”

  Then he turned the boat around and headed back to Bayport.

  Hurricane Joe didn’t last very long. By the following morning it had changed direction and drifted off into the ocean. By the following afternoon it was nothing more than a mid-Atlantic breeze.

  But it sure left a lot of devastation in its wake—and most of it seemed to be right in our own front yard.

  “Stack up those branches next to the garage,” Aunt Trudy ordered us. “All the other debris can go into these garbage bags.”

  I leaned against the porch railing and sighed. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow, Aunt Trudy? Frank and I are totally bushed.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s a mess out here. And speaking of bushes, you can dig up that old rosebush in the corner. It’s utterly destroyed.”

  “I’m utterly destroyed,” I muttered to Frank. “Can’t you think of a way to distract her? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

  Frank wrinkled his brow. A second later his eyes lit up. “Aunt Trudy!” he said. “Come here!”

  She walked across the porch and stopped in front of us. “Yes? What is it?”

  “You never told us why nobody calls you Gertrude.”

  “I don’t let them call me Gertrude,” she replied.

  “Why not?” asked Frank. “It’s your real name, isn’t it?”

  She nodded and sat down on the porch bench. “It happened years ago. I was born with the name Gertrude, and that’s what everyone called me. I thought it was such a lovely name. But then one day …”

  She paused.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Hurricane Gertrude destroyed half of Bayport,” she answered.

  “Wow! A hurricane? With the same name?” I said.

  Aunt Trudy smiled. “Everyone started calling me Hurricane Gertrude. Everywhere I went, people would say, ‘Hello, Hurricane Gertrude,’ and ‘Nice weather we’re having, Hurricane Gertrude.’ It drove me crazy.”

  “That’s understandable,” I said. “Who wants to share a name with a disaster?” I wasn’t having such a hard time brushing off the whole Hurricane Joe thing—but maybe that was because of the way the storm ended. Calm skies.

  “Nobody, Joe. That’s why I changed my name. From that moment on, I insisted that people call me Trudy. End of story”

  She snapped her fingers and stood up. “Now, get back to work.”

  “But Aunt Trudy—”

  “No buts,” she said, holding up a finger. “I’ve been cleaning up after Hurricane Joe and Hurricane Frank for years now. It’s time you boys returned the favor.”

  She walked to the doorway.

  “And don’t forget to fix the mailbox.”

  Then she was gone.

  I sighed and picked up a rake. “You know what, Frank? We get no respect. We manage to catch Bayport’s most wanted criminals, and what’s our reward?”

  “The satisfaction of making the world a better place?” he said with a smile.

  “No, our reward is this.” I pointed at the lawn. “We have to clean up this—this mud puddle, also known as our front yard.”

  “That’s the price of being an undercover agent, Joe. No one knows what a hero you are.”

  “Well, I wish I was known for something.”

  Just then Chet Morton rode by on his bike.

  “Yo! Hurricane Joe!” he shouted.

  I looked at Frank and sighed.

  “Hey, if it doesn’t work for you, you can always change your name to Joseph,” he said. “Or Josephine.”

  I jabbed him in the ribs and got back to work. “I’ll stick with Joe, thanks.”