Hurricane Milton in Florida | “None of this will be there when we come back. It’s scary. »

(Tampa) The Tampa, Florida area looks like the end of the world on Wednesday, a few hours before the arrival of the hurricane Milton. Despite almost deserted streets, boarded up gas stations and the heavy rain that has been falling relentlessly for several hours, a few die-hards are slow to evacuate. Or will simply stay.

“None of this will be there when we come back. It’s scary. »

Joanie Napolatano speaks with emotion of her small trailer transformed into a house, which she and her husband plan to leave “between noon and 3 p.m.,” when it starts to wind.

The police may have warned the couple that in a few hours the hurricane will be too close for them to come back and tell them to evacuate, they still have “a thing or two to do”. Take photo albums, in particular.

“We are going to leave,” assures M^me Napolatano, a Boston native who has lived in this house for 15 years with her husband Al.

She has seen other hurricanes. But not like Miltonwhich will hit Florida hard in a few hours, starting with the west coast.

“We’re not in a flood zone, but I think this time it’s different,” she said. Hurricane winds Miltonnow classified category 4 on the Saffir-Simpson scale, are sustained at 260 km/h.

His immediate neighbor, Bill Maxson, also plans to leave his house bought a year ago, his retirement plan which risks blowing away.

“The house is made of wood, all that will be left of it are toothpicks,” says the 68-year-old.

The former trucker laughs that he should have stayed in Daytona, where he lived, but says he is “very sad.”

“I’m getting the hell out of here,” Bill Maxon said, picking up canvases painted by his deceased mother. “That’s all I have left of her,” the man said.

Evacuate? “They say that every time!” »

“Stay safe”: that’s the watchword exchanged here by people who meet at the hotel or in the rare Dunkin Donuts still open. The anxiety is palpable in everyone we speak to.

Worry, too. It’s hard not to worry about the “few people” left in the small town of Bellair Shore, which juts out into the sea.

Since Tuesday evening, 7 p.m., the main bridge which provides access to this town and its beaches has been guarded by five police cars which prevent anyone from accessing the place, which is paradise at other times.

“There are a few people left. They were ordered to leave. If they leave, they can’t come back,” said Officer Mitchell of the Pinellas County Police Department.

Not far from there, in front of the Chevron station convenience store, one of the only open businesses in Bellair, Bill, who refuses to give us his last name, is smoking a cigarillo.

He lives in a condo complex and has no plans to move away.

“I’m scared, but taking the road where everyone is running out of gas… I’m on the second floor,” says the man, who seems to want to reassure himself.

The passage of the hurricane could drastically raise the water level in the region. After the hurricane passes, he plans to have a barbecue with about twenty of his neighbors (“we have propane,” he says) and pick up what the hurricane has scattered.

Or what will be left of it. For days, American authorities have implored those living on the coast to leave, otherwise they could lose their lives.

“They say that every time…I don’t know. It’s so stressful to evacuate, I’ll have a heart attack and die if I take the road! »

The man walks away into the deserted parking lot with his umbrella.

“Stay safe,” he says.