SHORT STORY: The Hunter
A dark gray WC-130J Hercules roared from Biloxi’s Keesler Air Force Base into the cobalt blue sky. The Hurricane Hunters were on yet another mission — a hurricane had entered the Gulf of Mexico.
Sphincters were tightening all across the Gulf Coast.
It was late August and the waters in the Gulf of Mexico was like a baby pool: Warm and deadly. A storm in the Gulf was like a chain smoker in a fireworks tent.
A light breeze blew sand across Hwy. 90. Mississippi Department of Transportation had done a great job rebuilding the coastal road after Hurricane Katrina turned it into a disaster area. Cars zipped between traffic lights, oblivious to the destruction that had taken place here just a decade ago. That worried Steve Martone. It had been 10 years since the Gulf Coast had been walloped by the storm. A whole generation didn’t know what a beast Mother Nature could be when she lost her temper. He watched the WC-130J head over the horizon. Maybe they could seed the clouds with Xanax.
Steve drove his truck West toward the Beau Rivage, the massive casino that had taken a big lick during Katrina . A new baseball stadium had popped up like a mushroom across the street. Then he passed the Biloxi Lighthouse. Once run by the Coast Guard, it now was property of the city. Steve vowed if he ever built a house along the coast, it would look like the lighthouse. It had survived 12 major hurricanes. His house couldn’t even survive one. Or his parents.
The lighthouse was as close to a live oak as man could build. It took a licking and kept on ticking. Steve remembered the Gulf Coast of his youth, the trees and the homes along the water’s edge. That was a different time. A different place.
Like the remaining trees and barren lots, Steve had his own set of scars. He was 20 when the storm had hit. His parents refused to evacuate, swearing they were far enough from the shore. Katrina had other plans and chased the three of them into his parent’s home’s attic. They sat huddled in the dark as they heard the house start groaning. It was a sound that he would never forget — and It’d haunt him forever. The last thing he remembered was being thrown into the swirling water. His dad tried to hang onto him and his mom, but his parents were swept away. They found them a week later in a tree.
He declared war on hurricanes that day.
That fall, he changed his major at Mississippi State to meteorology. And when he graduated, he joined the U.S. Air Force. He eventually joined the reserves and became a WC-130J pilot. Captain Steve Martone vowed to hunt the very beast that killed his parents.
Others would get the chance to live like he had. He would help give them the gift of early warning.
He pulled his truck to the gate at Keesler — which was the home of the 53rd WRS (the official name of the Hurricane Hunters.) Off in the distance were their planes sitting there like beached whales. The Hercules was a cargo plane designed in the 1950s — but with serious modernizations. It proved in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, it could take a beating. And Steve knew that first hand. During Hurricane Frank, the plane was shaking so violently that he couldn’t even read his instruments. But the Hercules always brought them home. Always.
Home. He was back home.
Keesler was near the slab where his parents’ home used to be. Steve liked to waggle his plane’s wings when he flew over it. He knew his parents would appreciate that. They were angels and were flying with him anyway.
He pulled up to the barracks, got out and went in to get dressed for his flight. He was scheduled for a late afternoon mission. He walked out to the hanger and paused. There was something about the roar of the Hercules’ turbo props that made him smile. They almost made a pulsing sing-song sound.
Two hours later, the hunt was on.
The sky blazed orange as he taxied the big beast to the end of the runway. He pushed the throttle forward and sped toward the storm. In a few hours, he’d punch directly into the new hurricane’s eye wall.
Ten years after Katrina, Captain Steve Newton was fighting another battle against Mother Nature. He was once again tracking a killer. And today, he was winning.