No one has to be told to get under the mattresses. The sound of glass shattering in all directions joins the screaming wind and crashing debris, followed by what sounds like thousands of bullets striking the outer concrete walls, but are actually stones Camille has sucked up from the rooftops and contemptuously spat back. The lights go out. We are in total darkness. With flashlights we can see the wind-driven rain down the stairwells.
Water blows in under the seaward door with such force that it chips paint off the opposite wall.
Camille shows no mercy. Within moments we are completely cut off from the rest of the world. There is only static on the portable radios. We are helpless and trapped. The sense of uncertainty is overwhelming.