Get a Load of This

     “I hope it's not going to get worse than this,” he said suddenly.

     “Oh, it will,” Stella told him. “This is just the beginning. The wind hasn't reached its height yet.”

     As she spoke the wind suddenly increased, making a shrill, whistling noise. Denny felt the car shudder against it, nearly coming to a halt. He fed the engine more gas and the speedometer needle crawled up to twenty miles an hour.

     “I guess we'd better get under cover,” he said. “I wish now that we had stayed at New Smyrna for the night. Keep a look-out for a house, will you? I don't care to drive much further in this.”

     “Oh, let's go on,” Gerda said quickly. “Fort Pierce is only about twenty miles from here.”

     Denny grunted. The lightning was beginning to worry him. It leapt about the dark sky, lighting the trees which swayed almost to the ground from the blast of the wind. The Lincoln was crawling now, although he kept his foot hard on the accelerator. He reckoned the wind must be blowing at well over a hundred miles an hour.

     The rain drummed on the top of the car, blotting out the noise of the thunder, and the wind had risen to a shrieking howl.

     Over to the left he thought he saw a building in the flash of brilliant lightning and his head-lights picked out a narrow road that turned off abruptly from the highway. He didn't hesitate, but swung the car into it. The wind caught them broadside and he felt the off wheels lift a little.

     “There's a house here,” he said. “We'll take shelter. This is beyond a joke.”

     He drove as close to the building as possible, and then stopped the car.

     “Be careful how you get out,” Stella said anxiously, “or you'll get blown away.”

     Denny thought that was most likely, and opened the car door gingerly. He slid out, keeping his body hunched. The wind and rain struck him solidly, and if he hadn't been holding on to the car door he would have gone over. He steadied himself, feeling the rain driving through his clothes as if they were paper, then, keeping low, he began a desperate struggle to the house. He had only to walk a few yards, but by the time he had reached the shelter of the house he was nearly exhausted.

     He could see that all the windows were boarded up, and he hammered on the front door. Fortunately, he was on the lee side and he could remain there without being battered. No one answered his knocking. Finally he lost patience and, taking a step back, aimed a violent kick at the lock. The door creaked, and a second kick sent it flying open. He stepped inside, peering into the darkness. He called loudly once or twice, but his voice hardly sounded in his own ears above the roar of the rain and wind.

     Taking his cigarette-lighter from his pocket, he made a tiny flame and finding an electric-light switch near his hand, he turned on the light. He found himself in a well-furnished lounge with three rooms leading off. A quick examination of the house proved that it was empty. The owners had most likely, he thought, gone to Fort Pierce, away from the hurricane. Anyway, the place was well furnished and comfortable. The next step was to get the two girls inside.

     He again stepped into the hurricane and fought his way back to the car. He tried to shout to them that it was all right, but the wind blew his words down his throat, leaving him gasping. He pointed to the house and took hold of Stella's arm. She hesitated for a moment, then slid out of the car. It took quite a time to get her into the shelter of the lounge. Twice they lost their balance and sprawled into a big pool of rain water, and by the time they got inside both of them were soaked and plastered with mud.

     Even at that moment Denny felt his blood quicken a trifle when he saw Stella in the light. Her jersey and skirt clung to her figure, revealing every line. The superb sweep of her hips down to her feet and the curve of her firm full breasts enchanted him. He said, “You look cute like that.”

     She turned her head. “Oh, don't look at me,” she said. “Please go and help Gerda.”

     He laughed a little nervously and turned away from her. Gerda stood in the doorway watching them. The wet jersey on her big figure made her look even more mannish than she actually was.

     She said: “I've locked up the car. The rain isn't getting in. I think it will be all right to leave.”

     Denny shrugged. “It'll have to be,” he said. “I've had enough of that wind for tonight. My God! I'm wet through. Maybe I'd better get a suitcase in.”

     Gerda went to the door. “You'll need some help,” she said, and together they battled their way once more to the car. Denny was a little piqued to see that Gerda managed the wind much better than he did. In fact, once she came to his aid and shoved him forward. He was equally astonished at her strength. Together they brought the suit-case back and closed the door on the storm.

     “You're hellish strong,” Denny gasped, wrenching off his sodden collar. “Quite a Samson.”

     Gerda didn't say anything. She disappeared into the kitchen.