At 2:30 in the afternoon, everyone’s nap was abruptly interrupted by the loud crash of something hitting hard.

Hope Newton’s bed was closest to the window. She opened her eyes to a chaotic scene outside; winds howling wildly, dark clouds pressing down like the sky was about to fall.

“The weather’s turning,” she muttered, fully awake now. She quickly slipped on a jacket and rushed to secure the window, which was banging violently against the frame.

Others were walking too. Quinn tried to shut another window, but it seemed alive, thrashing with unstoppable force. Her slim arms couldn’t control it.

Then another gust slammed into the window. Quinn felt a...