Two natural disasters. Two young men worlds apart seeking their pathways in life, and their unlikely intersection.
When Buffalo, NY, language teacher Bryant Simmons goes online looking for a chat buddy, he stumbles onto a post by the young Moroccan Issam LeBeau, desperate to find a man to rescue him from the strict and conservative culture of his country. While Bryant has little interest in corresponding with Issam, he warns him about the dangers of having a post of this kind in his city of Marrakech. Issam agrees to remove it only if Bryant continues talking to him. And so ensues an extended discussion of lifestyles and cultural differences, the two men becoming ever closer.
In spite of Issam’s prodding, Bryant isn’t sure how far he wants to take the exchange beyond a friendship, at times feeling trapped by the demands of the young man. But fate takes the upper hand, drawing the two closer as one faces death in a freezing blizzard, the other in a terrible earthquake.
“Bryant, I can’t believe you’re out in that storm,” his surprised uncle exclaimed when he called. “Didn’t you know there was a driving ban? Didn’t you have the radio on? Didn’t you think, at some point, you should give up on the deliveries and head home?”
“Obviously, I should have,” Bryant admitted. “But the driving ban hadn’t been announced when I left home, and only a foot or so of snow was predicted. And not with so much wind.”
“Bryant, you’ve lived in Buffalo all your life. You know how fierce and unpredictable these storms can be.”
“I know, I know. But these boxes of food were for shut ins. Without them, they have nothing to eat.”
“Anyone who lives in Buffalo should have ample food, canned or frozen, to get them through a week. And if they don’t have the sense to do that, you don’t have to risk your life for them. Have you tried calling 911?”
“Yes, many times. All I get is a busy signal. No one picks up.”
“I’m not surprised. On the news they said sixty-five people had been rescued, but the calls were piling up so fast they couldn’t keep up with them. Are the main roads open? You said you were just off Delaware Avenue. Is there any chance I could get to the corner of the street where you’re stuck and get you out of there, maybe to a hotel or even back to my place? There’s no snow here, just a bare dusting on the lawn.”
“Don’t try it, uncle. You’ll probably end up just like me. The snow band might not have reached you, but I’m sure you’d drive into it well before you reached me.”
“You’re probably right. Interstate 90 between Rochester and Buffalo is closed. A local news team here ventured out to the west and found just three miles beyond me there’s three inches. The farther west I would go, the more there would be.”
“Stay put. I’ll get out of this somehow. Issam is praying for me and says Allah won’t let him down.”
“I’ll certainly do the same,” his uncle reassured him. “I’ll keep trying 911 as well. Maybe one of us will get through. Call me any time you want someone to talk to, no matter what time of the night it is. I may not sleep much anyway until I know you’re safe.”
* * * *
After checking that his phone was remaining charged, Bryant called Issam.
“I’m going to stay with you all night,” Issam assured him. “It’s not the kind of all-night I wanted for us,” he joked. “But I’m not going to leave you.”
“I appreciate that,” said Bryant. “You know, I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re a very determined young man, and a very loyal friend.”
“Hopefully, more than just a friend. But what kind of a friend would just leave you in your current state of affairs? Not anyone who was really a friend.”
They continued talking, Issam trying to lighten the mood as much as he could by telling jokes about camels and stupid tourists. Bryant, in his turn, tried to do the same, but it was difficult for him. He was cold. His wet socks and gloves weren’t drying out. And he was scared.
At nine o’clock the Jeep’s engine quit, and Bryant was left in complete silence, the comforting sound of the heater’s fan having vanished. He was surprised the engine had continued to run for almost two hours after the low fuel light had come on. But now the car’s heater would be no help, and he’d be left to freeze. It was still another ten hours until dawn, and it would be at least then before any help came. Was it his imagination, or was it snowing even harder, the wind blowing even harder? Or was it because the wind was the only sound now that the heater had stopped?
“Issam, my uncle’s trying to call me. I should call him back so he knows I’m still all right. I’ll call you back, but we may not be able to talk for too long as I don’t want to deplete the battery on the phone or on the Jeep.”
“Okay. But call me right back as soon as you can.”
* * * *
“Any change? Any good news?” asked Tim.
“No. And I’ve run out of gas.”
“Oh, my God, Bryant. Are you sure I can’t get to you?”
“No. Don’t try it. There’s no sense in both of us getting stuck out here.”
“But I have to do something. I can’t let you just stay there and freeze.”
“Something will happen. Someone will come along,” Bryant assured him. “I’ll keep calling 911. They’ll have to answer at some point.”
“As will I.”
“And uncle,” Bryant couldn’t believe he was about to say this, as at such a young age he’d never thought about his mortality. “If something happens, can you make sure I end up with my parents at Forest Lawn?”
“Shh, don’t even think such a thing. You’re going to get out of this, one way or the other. Have faith and be patient.”
