Hurricane
“Larios, Mr. Barabon, and Jorge Álvarez come with me to dig in the mud where the Arroyos’ place used to be. Because it stopped raining an hour or so ago, the mud has begun to dry. By taking soft steps, we can actually walk without sinking down very far. It doesn’t take us long to reach the Arroyos’.
For a long time we just stand there, staring at the dark muck. Finally I say to the others, “I think I know about where the store was.” I hesitate for a second and point to the ground. “The store was... here, but the mud has moved everything back. Look at their roof.” The broken, splintered lumber and metal roofing is scattered on the ground, twenty-five to thirty feet back from the street, as if the storm simply grabbed it and flicked it away. I feel a small rush in my stomach and throat, like I might throw up, but I try to sound calm and sensible. “Maybe the mud pushed everything back. Maybe we should start digging about there,” I say, pointing to a spot ten feet or so from where we’re standing; this is where I guess the little trucha part of the house might be now.MoreLess
For a long time we just stand there, staring at the dark muck. Finally I say to the others, “I think I know about where the store was.” I hesitate for a second and point to the ground. “The store was... here, but the mud has moved everything back. Look at their roof.” The broken, splintered lumber and metal roofing is scattered on the ground, twenty-five to thirty feet back from the street, as if the storm simply grabbed it and flicked it away. I feel a small rush in my stomach and throat, like I might throw up, but I try to sound calm and sensible. “Maybe the mud pushed everything back. Maybe we should start digging about there,” I say, pointing to a spot ten feet or so from where we’re standing; this is where I guess the little trucha part of the house might be now.MoreLess
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