ATHENS, Ga. – Rescue teams raced to submerged homes, scoured collapsed buildings and steered thousands away from overflowing dams as Helene carved a destructive path Friday, knocking out power and flooding a wide swath of communities across the southeastern United States.
At least 40 people were confirmed dead in five states since the storm made landfall late Thursday as a Category 4 behemoth, unleashing record-breaking storm surge and powerful, tree-snapping winds. Four million homes and businesses have lost electricity across Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas, raising concerns that outages could last for weeks.
Mudslides closed highways, water swept over roofs and phone lines snapped. Houses were ripped from their foundations. Tornadoes added to the chaos. The mayor of hard-hit Canton, N.C., described the scene as “apocalyptic.”
South Carolina suffered the greatest loss of life
By early counts, South Carolina suffered the greatest loss of life, with at least 19 deaths compared with Georgia’s 11 and Florida’s seven. North Carolina initially reported two deaths, and Virginia one. The toll from the storm is likely to rise, authorities cautioned, once flooding subsides and rescuers finish wading through the wreckage.
“I’m sure that number will go up, as we have people we know are trapped that we’re trying to get to right now,” Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp said, confirming his state’s toll to Atlanta’s WSB-TV.
President Biden approved emergency declaration requests from the governors of Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Alabama. About 1,500 federal disaster response personnel will be deployed, the White House said.
Strong winds and torrential rain were expected to continue Saturday across the Southeast and southern Appalachians, a particularly threatening prospect for hillside communities already pummeled by days of downpours.
Helene’s intensity was fueled in part by record-high water temperatures in the Gulf of Mexico, which have warmed over time due to human-caused climate change.
With communications spotty, rescuers trekking through gnarled communities hadn’t yet determined how many victims might still be trapped in crumbled structures. Even as Helene weakened to a tropical storm as it crossed Georgia and headed north, devastation was widespread.
Helene’s reach proved enormous: hazardous weather extended well beyond the storm’s eye, which forecasters described as one of the largest to ever strike the Gulf Coast. In Asheville, N.C. — nearly 500 miles from where Helene made landfall — a meteorologist shared a video of a Wendy’s walk-in cooler floating away.
Ordered residents to flee
Two hours west of Charlotte, officials in forested Rutherford County ordered residents to flee to higher ground. Water overtopped the Lake Lure Dam by early afternoon, and failure looked “imminent,” they warned.
Much of north Georgia got “lucky,” the state’s governor said, so Atlanta avoided an anticipated direct hit. But several hospitals farther southwest went dark, and people could be stuck in dozens of storm-damaged buildings, Gov. Brian Kemp added.
“We’re also trying to get to multiple structures right now that we know have individuals inside that we’re unable to communicate with,” Kemp said.
In Erwin, Tenn., the Unicoi County Hospital didn’t have time to clear out Friday before the floods gushed in. More than 50 patients and staff were marooned on the roof. For hours, fierce winds prevented helicopters from rescuing them. Photos showed ambulances immersed in murky water.
In Scaly Mountain, N.C., customers began frantically calling Allan Dearth and Sons Generators at 2 a.m. — the start of the 17-year-old company’s busiest day ever. But since a landslide had taken out one of the area’s main thoroughfares and debris clogged other roads, crew members couldn’t rush out to help residents restore their backup power sources. Luckily, some were able to sort out their repairs over the phone. For everyone else?
“We pull out our chainsaws and cut our way in,” said the owner, Timothy Dearth.
Remained practically out of reach
Customers in the wealthy resort town of Highlands, N.C., remained practically out of reach. Some homeowners reflected on the irony: Floridians and Georgians buy second (or third) properties in the relative cool of the mountains to escape the heat and hurricanes.
At 4,118 feet above sea level, the summer temperature rarely exceeds 80 degrees. Still, the community couldn’t dodge Helene’s tropical fury. Chris Duffy, a 53-year-old real estate agent who lives on a golf course, was one of the 8,000 residents in Macon County whose power went out. “This is probably the most direct hit this area has taken in a long time,” he said.
The sound of chainsaws in the morning, though, brightened his mood.
“That’s the sound of recovery starting,” Duffy said.
In Greenville County, S.C., virtually every home and business has lost power, said Bob Mihalic, the county spokesman.
“It’s unprecedented,” he said.
Emergency responders hadn’t taken a break, he added, from saving residents who have been trapped in homes and cars crushed by fallen trees. Others were stranded on high surfaces while trying to escape floods.
In Virginia, crews conducted about 50 water rescues across the state’s mountainous and flood-prone southwest corner. At least one tornado had been sighted in Danville.
“Stay informed, use good judgment, and get to high ground,” Gov. Glenn Youngkin advised residents.
A tree crashed into a building
One resident died when a tree crashed into a building near the border with West Virginia, Gov. Glenn Youngkin said. People who lived near rivers faced a special threat of flash floods, Youngkin added. The safer bet, he insisted, was evacuating.
Across Florida, hundreds of search-and-rescue missions labored through the night to save “thousands,” Gov. Ron DeSantis said at a Friday briefing.
In Tampa Bay, where the storm surge shattered records, reports surfaced of people “treading water” in their homes. One woman posted on X that her daughter had ventured out to survey the damage and found a fish on top of her car.
Four feet of water swept through the Crystal Bay Travel Park in northern Pinellas County, damaging all 80 of the neighborhood’s trailers.
“I’m now gutting it,” said Bruce Gentry, 64. “I had about three feet of water inside.”
Susan Soukup, 53, was cleaning out her 81-year-old mother’s property. So much for the air conditioning’s “hurricane-proof” pad. The back deck had been crumpled into what looked like a giant ball.
‘Missiles coming through’
“It was like missiles coming through here,” Soukup said.
Since Helene struck Florida’s northwest coast shortly after 11 p.m. Thursday, drivers have been urged to stay off the roads — many of which remained precariously littered with debris. One motorist was killed when a highway sign came loose and tumbled onto their vehicle.
Some communities in the curve of Florida’s peninsula known as the Big Bend endured their third hurricane in 13 months, DeSantis said.
“They went through Idalia and Debby,” the governor said, “and they are trying to get back on their feet because Helene did more damage than those two storms combined.”
As the sun rose over Cedar Key, an island city in the state’s northwest, Joel Mattil barely recognized his own community. The last two hurricanes had stung. Now this rubble.
‘There’s nothing’
“It’s pretty messed up,” he said. “The whole town is pretty much — there’s nothing.”
The maintenance worker, 53, stayed behind to weather Helene on the second story of the oceanfront Cedar Inn. The afternoon before, he rushed to board up windows and seal the doors. Then he tried to sleep through the hurricane’s impact — unsuccessfully. More than nine feet of storm surge blew through the walls of the hotel’s ground floor.
“It was really hairy,” he said. “But we made it.”
Walking around Friday morning, Mattil saw that a grocery store, among other businesses, had been torn up. Someone else’s deck had floated into a parking lot.
“I know a lot of people who are just done,” he said. “They are not going to come back.”
On the lone road into town, sheriff’s deputies had erected a security checkpoint. A helicopter circled overhead. National Guard troops in Humvees rolled in, followed by tree-cutting contractors, utility workers, bulldozers and dump trucks.
Were turned away
Again and again, Cedar Key residents trying to get home were turned away. “Not yet safe,” authorities told them. One drone video posted online by a storm chaser showed why: The once-serene streets were flood-ravaged and coated in debris. Some houses had flattened, and storm surge had shoved others off their foundations. Many first floors were blown out, as if bombs had detonated.
Scott Larsen, 54, managed to return by airboat to Cedar Key only to find that his business, the Lowkey Hideaway & Tiki Bar, had been destroyed too.
The waterline inside was “right to my nose,” he said. The doors and windows were gone. His attempts to fortify them had been futile.
“Everything was just smashed to pieces,” he said.
He loves this island; Larsen had posted signs outside the now-wrecked bar that said “world famous sunsets” and “fresh squeezed margaritas.” But his haven, he said, had become a magnet for destruction.
Sure, the building’s foundation still stood. Technically, he could rebuild.
“I just don’t know if it’s a good business,” he said, scanning neighboring storefronts, now smashed.
Waves had invaded
A couple hours’ drive south, in the upscale Tampa Bay enclave of Crystal Beach, waves had invaded several multimillion-dollar homes.
With the climate warming and extreme weather striking more frequently, some had been designed so that most of the insurable living space occupied the second floor, where the water was less likely to reach. Ground floors lay in ruin. Residents heaped couches, clothing and television sets into piles on the street.
“We knew that floor could always get wiped out,” said Irene Williams.
Helene’s force had dislodged her fire pit and stripped off a piece of the garage door. Some of her neighbors, however, faced tougher losses: chunks ripped out of their walls, cleaves in their foundations.
“I bet you we don’t even have a hundred thousand in damage,” she said, surveying the mess.
That was a relief, because her $2.5 million house didn’t carry flood insurance. Williams had bet against spending the $20,000 yearly premium.
Instead, her family kept that money and grew interest on it, she said, so “it balances out.”
