Dark Wind"You’re still on the island? You better get the hell off," said the voice on the other end of the phone.
"I missed the last boat," said Martin.
"You missed the---Jesus!"
"Listen baby, that’s why I’m calling you. I need you to come and get me."
"…Come and get you?"
"I hate to ask you, Jimmy, but I got no choice. Listen, you just drive over the bridge, you take a left, and you come down the beach until you get here. You got four-wheel drive?"
"That’s ok, you don’t need it. If you start to slide, you just go with it, just like on ice. You got snow tires?"
"Good. Can you be here in an hour? Otherwise I’ve had it."
"Listen Martin……don’t get me wrong----you know how much our friendship means to me…..it’s just that tonight I’m committed to this dinner thing----it’s a stupid thing, really, I don’t even want to go----but the reservation is in my name…" "I understand."
"And who knows, this hurricane might not even come! These guys have been wrong before!"
"Yes, they have."
"So if there’s anything else I can do, I mean anything, you have my number."
"Yes I do. Thank you. Goodbye."
"Good luck, buddy."
Martin hangs up, smiles, and dials another number. And in this fashion he passes the time as Hurricane Gloria creeps north along the Atlantic; putting little plusses or minuses—mostly minuses—next to the names in his address book.