At the low point of LBB Lane where it dipped down to the beach, the cars were parked so thickly to either side that Natalya could barely sneak her MINI through the gaps. It was worse than July 4th. And then she saw why.
Vincent McCall wore his volunteer fireman’s gear as he stood before an orange cone barrier strung with “Do Not Cross” tape and a “Beach Closed” sign. A hundred or more people in parkas and slickers were huddled together for support as seventy mile-an-hour blasts tried to knock them off their feet.
And beyond them, the tide was coming in.
This stretch of the coast always had five- to six-foot breakers. Storms kicked that up into the ten- to twenty-foot range. These monsters were running consistently at the high end of that range with a few even bigger. When they landed sh
