Then came the night of the hurricane. Vick stood with his wife and children huddled at his feet, shouting at the storm, “Do your damnedest—I’m not afraid of you!”
A large oak limb crashed through the ceiling barely missing Vick and family. Through the hole in the roof, the wind howled and other limbs twisted down toward him like angry, vengeful demons.
“Come on!” he wailed like a frightened child. “Let’s go to the cellar before we all get killed!