Chapter 15

There was a deafening silence. A shattered community slowly came to, started crawling out of the wreckage. The worst had
come. Isis was done they thought. They were wrong.

Her fury was fierce but it was not Isis herself that caused the bulk of the damage; the deaths of residents and the utter
destruction of puppets in her path. No, that honor went to the tornadoes she spawned, her vicious little children with only
devastation on their mind. They appeared everywhere, like new flower blooms in spring. Tornado warnings were futile. No one
could hear them and Nature was too quick. Tornadoes doomed Port Charles.

But all was quiet. For now.

                    ********************************************************

Luke was on the sofa in a second. Laura was screaming Lucky’s name over and over again. Her motherly instinct was creating
a sharp jagged pain in her.

"Something’s wrong," she cried.

"What darling?"

Things between these two had changed for themselves as Luke and Laura finally came to terms with their own history, the
history that caused the rift with Lucky. But their love was stronger than ever now. And at that moment, Laura’s heart was
breaking.

"It’s Lucky. I can feel it. Something’s happened to him."

"I’m sure he’s fine."

"No Luke. He’s not."

"Maybe he got in a fight, with Cassadine or something."

Laura glared at him. That was not what she wanted to hear.

"Sorry," he said quickly. He knew he had said the wrong thing.

And while Luke kept the facade that nothing was wrong, he felt a twinge in his body too. He felt very uneasy.

"Luke, I think we should go home."

He didn’t hesitate at all.

                    ********************************************************

There was no wind, no rain, no danger. The houses stood in a row just like before. And just like they were lined up before the
firing squad, the tornado had shot them down one by one. First the brown house on the corner. It had been standing since the
50’s. It was standing still now, in pieces. The darkly painted shutters clung for life on the windows. A small gust ended their
suspension and sent them onto the sidewalk.

Next came the old Henry house. It was a comfortable place to be in, and a death trap waiting to happen. The house was
covered with windows. The view from them was fine now. The panes were shattered and now lawn ornaments. The rain was
carrying them as passengers down Charles Street. They didn’t object.

Other houses in between saw damage ranging from minor to extensive. The tornado had missed one house entirely. But that
made it’s death march on the Spencer household all the more cruel.

The porch Laura loved to sit on and watch the children ride by on their bikes was no longer the peace maker it once was. It
was now disheveled, a pitiful reminder of what it once looked like. The house remained visibly pathetic. The front door was
now in the kitchen. The pictures that Laura decorated the mantle with now created a montage along the walls. Their contents no
longer remained. One picture was a brutal reminder and descriptor of the present Spencer family. It had been taken when Lulu
was born. They were all in the hospital room. They were all smiling, happy, united. The faces were still the same, but the
pictures was not together anymore. It was torn, straight down the middle. Lucky was on one side of the room and the rest in
another corner.

The basement was a pool now. The food Laura had placed down there for safekeeping one day were now making their return
voyage to the kitchen. The water was immense, but the rain had stopped and all was safe.

Moonlight tried furiously to break through the shield of heavy clouds. But this was still Isis’s show and she was not done yet.

The remainder of Port Charles was being battered, but Charles Street was catching its breath. The eye of the storm was directly
overhead. It was a eerie calm. Elizabeth could hear the cries of other neighbors. She could hear their screams at loosing their
property, their memories, and for some, their loved ones.

Perhaps, they heard her scream too. It was chilling in its own right. Loud and piercing. She saw his body lying on the floor.

"That’s where I was though," she thought.

He was limp. She could not hear him breathing, nor could she see it. She was beyond afraid.

"Lucky," she said weakly.

She didn’t want to know, to see what was there.

It was at this time she realized her own injuries. She saw the blood drip from her arm as she extended it to him. It dripped into
the water coating the floor, which assimilated it rapidly.

She felt pain. It hurts she thought. It was broken, but that didn’t concern her now. She poked him lightly.

No response.

She called out his name. "Lucky."

No response.

Her heart was dying now. She got closer to him.

"Oh my God."

He was lying in another pool, not one constructed from rain. It covered his underside, blanketing him almost.

She knew he was dead. She just knew it. It was too much blood she thought. He can’t be alive. But she was wrong. At that
moment she changed her attitude. She repeated, "He is not dead. He is NOT dead."

But she was afraid to turn him over. She noticed a tiny movement from him. He was breathing. She took his hand and held it
tightly. It was cold.

"But his hands get cold sometimes anyways," she thought. She had guessed right.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She slowly and gently reached under him. It strained her arm and made her wince.

She had no idea where all this blood was coming from. Most of the stuff had fallen onto him she thought. That was correct. Part
of the ceiling had fallen on him as he was protecting her. One of the chairs jettisoned into his back among other things. And the
sofa barely missed them, but from that they were spared.

That’s when she remembered the window. It was the last thing she recalled. Lucky had told her to get down and she followed
suit.

"I’ll get a blanket off the chair," he had said.

He stood up and the front window ruptured. It came flying in thousands of pieces towards him, towards Elizabeth. She had
stood up right before it blew and he knocked her down to preserve her. Then, he took the brunt. That was when she left the
world for an hour. Things were becoming clear to her. She was covered in blood when she awoke. She was discovering why
now.

Lucky looked horrific. Death might have been his only salvation from the trauma he was in. He was unconscious and very still.
His breath was weak and his pulse faint. His eyes were glued shut and his body was shattered. Pieces of glass were lodged
within him, none close to any major organ, but definitely fatal if untreated. His blood was not as copious as earlier, but it was still
oozing out.

She noticed all sorts of things about him. His hair was dirty, covered with the debris from the ceiling. Their were bruises on his
head from the stray basketball that rocketed from next door into the living room. That happened to another neighbor. The ball
hit a man at an atrocious speed. He never saw it and never felt it. It was too quick and too savage.

She noticed his face. He still looked amazing she thought, like her own sleeping beauty, but her mind quickly returned to reality.
His face was pale and torn. He had a gash under his chin. His shirt was torn down the right side and his watch was gone.

She started to cry.

"Lucky."

She started stroking his hair. She remembered their conversation.

"I would die for you," he told her.

And she replied, "I know."

She yelled at his nearly lifeless body.

"Don’t you do this to me. Get up. Open your eyes!! Do something. Just don’t.."

She couldn’t say it. She refused to mention the word.

Then she felt the rain drops again followed by a breeze.

"Oh no."

This was not what she needed.

"Isn’t this enough?" she screamed.

They had no protection overhead, nothing to save them and the basement was flooded. Her eye spied the closet directly in front
of her, the one where the Spencer’s kept their emergency "get up and go" equipment.

"That’s it."

She had no choice. She knew that if she remained in the open, then who knows what would happen. She ran to the closet and
opened it. She threw out some of the contents and made room. She returned to Lucky. Gently taking his body, she lifted him up
and guided him to the closet, placing him down inside. There was already water inside, but they needed shelter pronto. She
leaned down beside him and placed a blanket over him. She held him close and waited.

"It’s almost over," she thought.

She was right. The calm was done. The second front arrived and the rain resumed.
 

                                            Chapter 16

The second wind would not be as disastrous to Charles Street. That was, perhaps, the only good news.

While one section of Port Charles went silent with the passing eye, another became violent again. This time it was the hospital.
General Hospital was the latest and greatest target.

"Listen to that noise," Bobbie said to herself.

There had been 6 tornado warning thus far. Bobbie was supposed to leave GH seven hours earlier. She, along with everyone
else in the hospital, stood and watched. It was beyond idiotic to try and travel in this weather. It was consistently unpredictable
and completely devious.

A patient on the 7th floor was looking through his window. He had stared outside for hours now watching the rain fall, straight
for a while and then sideways. It was flooding the streets, but not extensively. He watched the lightening marry the ground and
create wild flames that began to incinerate two buildings down the road. The rain saved those buildings it seemed. What wasn’t
destroyed by flame was by water.

A woman, a new doctor, stood gazing up into the sky. Clouds had always fascinated her. She had lived in Kansas for most of
her life. She had been in a tornado before, many times to be exact. She knew the signs well. She had been in the middle of a
horrid twister when she was 17. It burst out of the sky unexpectedly. The winds snatched her dog still chained to the fence. Her
eyes shut and when they reopened, her dog was gone. The chain still whipped in the air.

It was she who saw it first, the cyclone in the sky. She noticed the clouds organize and the funnel stretch to the road. This one
could not hold a candle to the one that ravaged Charles Street hours before. The tornado kidnapped an aged tree and ended its
life. Its uprooting was instantaneous and its descent even quicker.

A young intern was walking to his car. Today was his first day. He had left an object in his car. He figured he could retrieve it
quickly and get back to shelter. He stood next to his green Sedan, a gift from his parents. He took out the key and inserted it
into the lock. He heard the snap. His head jerked upward. Rain started to hit him.

"Huh?" was all he could say.

The next image was the tree cascading to him at an extreme speed. The thud was deep. It reverberated throughout the deck.
He stood there paralyzed, no movement. His breath was heaving, his face was frozen. A single leaf from the tree’s top tickled
his nose. His car was compacted. He said nothing. He ran back into the hospital.

An opening now allowed water to funnel into the parking deck. Two cars slid into one another. Others collided into the
columns. Despite the battering, the deck held together.

                    ********************************************************

Laura was looking outside the window. Their plane had departed 10 minutes ago. She was eager to get home. Her stomach
was in knots. Lesley Lu tried to alleviate her mind, but it was to no avail.

"She’s in her own world," Luke thought.

She was. Her only thoughts were "What ifs?"

Her mind was a virtual movie reel of memories. She remembered the first time she held Lucky. He was tiny, light and her shining
glory. She felt his tiny hands wrap around her finger and the trust his eyes saw in hers. She had missed that and wanted it again.

She remembered the time he fell off his bike. Luke was teaching him how to ride. His knee was scraped but she made it all
better.

She remembered that first day of school. She had fixed his breakfast and the look on his face was anything but enthusiastic.

"Mom, I don’t wanna go," he had told her.

"I know," she said smiling.

But he got through that first day and many more.

And all those memories were erased in his memory now. One memory tainted this recollection, the way Lucky looked at her
that day in Luke’s. The hatred and distrust tore her away now.

Luke reached over to her and patted her shoulder.

"He’s fine."

"I hope so Luke. I really hope so."

A flight attendant came around asking if anyone wanted something to drink. Luke passed and Laura requested some water.
Lulu was sleeping.

"Would it be OK if I got a paper?" Laura asked.

"Sure," the woman replied.

She returned later with the paper and handed it to Laura. It was a copy of USA Today.

The front page story read:

"Hurricane slams into Connecticut."

Her eyes moved on. This paper was a day old. The latest copy would hold the news only hinted at in this article. Her stomach
twisted again.

"Anything in there?"

She said nothing. She simply showed him the front page and handed it to him.

"Aw honey, this can’t be it."

He wanted a cigar badly now. His nerves were picking him apart now too. He moved in closer to her and they embraced
awkwardly through the safety belts.

"Everything will be OK."

"I just want to get home," she said.

"It’s probably the same way we left it," he snickered.

They were in for a rude awakening.

                    ********************************************************

They were in the darkness again. She couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t see him. She could feel his chest softly moving up and
down.

"Hey you," she said.

She was talking to him like he was awake and conscious, for which he was not. She stroked his hair and tried to keep him
warm. She had a terrific grip around him. She was going to protect him now, to return the favor.

She kissed his head, on his hair exactly.

"Hang in there," she told him.

An even though he did not regain consciousness yet, he felt her hold on him. He had his life support clinging on to him. He was
not going to give up.

The hours dragged on. The wind was nothing like it had been. The door never wobbled violently and the rain was reduced to a
moderate level.

It was 6:15 a.m.

His bleeding stopped hours before. He was resting she told herself. An ordinary kid would have died from what Lucky
endured. But ordinary was an insult to Lucky. He was everything but.

First and foremost, he had and maintained that Spencer fight for life. He was not going to die, it was not in the plan. He held on
and kept fighting. Help would come he would have said, had he been able to.

He moaned twice during the ordeal. Liz’s eyes widened at those moments.

"Lucky?"

But he never responded. She simply kept holding on, holding on to hope, to him, to their love.

"It won’t end like this," she informed him.

She had talked to him all night.

"Remember that time we..?" she said. "Oh! And that time you..?"

They were one sided conversations that she had to have. She refused to let him slip away and he refused to do it also.

They remained in that closet all night. They never moved. She held him firm.

"Lucky. I love you," she whispered.

That was when he made the second sound.

                    ********************************************************

Her fight was over. She had nothing left to use. Her eye was gone and her structure distraught. Jim Jacobs has left for home
several hours earlier. He was relieved to see upon his return that morning that Isis was falling apart.

In reality, she was a mere tropical system now, no longer the scathing hurricane. She had gusty winds, but her organization was
in pieces, a dark shadow of her former self. The once invincible Isis was no more. The final showers moving across Charles
Street were her final moments in Port Charles.

One thing was certain: she had left her mark. Her path of destruction showed that Isis was here.

It was 7:02 a.m.

A single ray of sunlight broke free from the sheet of cloudiness. Port Charles was finally at peace. Port Charles was in pieces.


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