Hurricane Power by Sigmund Brouwer Page A

behind one of the doors. The stairs creaked. I was glad that Dad was here with me. We kept following Carlos.
    At the top of the stairs, he turned on a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. It brightened a long hallway to our right.
    As we walked, I heard crying as we passed more doors with names scratched on them.
    I finally figured it out. It looked likethis house had been turned into a bunch of tiny apartments.
    I found out I was right when Carlos opened a door at the end of the hallway. A light was already on.
    Dad and I stepped into the room behind Carlos.
    We saw a man about Dad’s age. A woman standing behind him clutched his arm. There were four children—two boys, two girls—all younger than Carlos, all wearing long T-shirts for pajamas.
    Carlos said something quickly in Spanish to the man.
    The man nodded and replied in Spanish.
    â€œMy father says thank you. He is honored you have chosen to visit us.”
    â€œTell your father that my son and I are equally honored for the invitation.”
    Carlos translated, and then we all listened to his father speak again.
    â€œMy father says he has no money to pay you for your help. But he promises to do whatever work you might have for him around your house.”
    â€œTell your father I do not need money or repayment. Perhaps someday I can come to him with a request of my own.”
    Carlos passed that on to his father, who broke into a wide smile.
    His mother tugged at his father’s arm. She had a worried face. She said something to Carlos.
    â€œMy baby sister,” Carlos said. “She is getting worse. She has become too weak to cry.”
    â€œPlease take me to her,” Dad said.
    To me, Dad said quietly, “Wait here.”
    I did. Dad followed Carlos into another room. His father and mother went too.
    That left me alone in what was both a living room and a kitchen. Alone except for the four little kids. They all stared at me as if I had landed from Mars.
    Four little kids, a mother, a father, Carlos and a baby sister. Eight people living in two rooms. I saw five blankets with five pillows on the floor in this room; a sink, a stove and a fridge sat against the far wall. At the other side of the room was a table with tworickety chairs. There wasn’t much else in the room except for an old sofa and a television with a broken antenna.
    The little boys and girls kept staring at me.
    I wiggled my eyebrows. They began to giggle.
    I made a face, sticking out my tongue. They giggled more.
    We were just becoming friends when Dad stepped out of the back room, holding a little bundle in a blanket. Carlos and his parents were close behind him.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “We’re taking this girl to the hospital.”
    â€œNo!” Carlos said. “You can’t!”
    His mother and father exchanged worried looks.
    â€œShe has a temperature of one hundred and three, her throat is swelling and she’s dehydrated,” Dad said. “I need to get some fluids into her fast.”
    â€œNo hospital,” Carlos repeated.
    â€œDon’t worry about the money,” Dad said. “I’m a doctor there.”
    â€œNo hospital.”
    Dad gave me the bundle to hold. I was surprised at how light it was. I saw a little of the baby girl’s face. Hair stuck to her forehead. Her eyes were shut tight, with shiny stuff leaking from the corners of her eyelids. I thought of a helpless kitten, so young that its eyes hadn’t opened yet.
    Dad put his hands on Carlos’s shoulders and faced him directly.
    â€œI think I understand,” Dad said. “Your parents don’t speak English. You are in charge of the family. And you’re afraid that someone at the hospital will start asking questions about how you all happen to be living here.”
    Carlos didn’t say anything. But tears began to silently slide down his face.
    â€œSon,” Dad said gently, “I will do everything possible to protect