As the wind gains strength, James turns off the radio and decides to ride his bicycle through the neighborhood one final time before nightfall. He unlocks his front two doors, steps into the late August day, locks the iron door and then unlocks his bicycle near by.
The house has a front entrance of two doors, the inside one is a decorative wood and glass antique door – which he often leaves open – the second door facing outside, made of six iron, vertical bars with two additional bars perpendicular through its middle – which he keeps locked for security reasons.
Traveling on a bicycle has become James’ primary mode of transportation. He lives simply.
-later on-
The avenue is empty. All is quiet except a neighbor on the block past his, packing her car with final things for the evacuation. As he approaches, she mentions that her 82-year-old father refuses to leave.
The old man is set in his ways and there is no way of changing him, she says. “He took scuba lessons at Biloxi Beach and that is his final argument.” Apparently, he is well stocked and barricaded in his home with food, batteries, candles, and water; pick ax, scuba gear and a complete arsenal.
The woman starts up her car and parts with, “Good luck.”
