LAHAINA, Hawaii (AP) — The smoke was starting to blot out the sun. Winds were howling, and heat bore down as flames licked the trees on the horizon. The power had been out all day, so Mike Cicchino thought he’d drive to the hardware store for a generator. He turned off his street, and in an instant, his Lahaina neighborhood seemed to spiral into a war zone.
“When I turned that corner, I see pandemonium,” he said. “I see people running and grabbing their babies and screaming and jumping in their cars.”
It was around 3:30 p.m. Tuesday when Cicchino and his neighbors began a desperate fight for their lives. They had just moments to make decisions that would determine whether they lived or died in a race against the flames — a harrowing, narrow window of time in one of the most horrifying and lethal natural disasters the country has seen in years.
There were no sirens, no one with bullhorns, no one to tell anyone what to do: They were on their own, with their families and neighbors, to choose whether to stay or to run, and where to run to — through smoke so thick it blinded them, flames closing in from every direction, cars exploding, toppled power lines and uprooted trees, fire whipping through the wind and raining down.
Authorities confirmed that at least 96 people died — already the deadliest U.S. wildfire in more than 100 years — and they expect that number to rise.
Just 10 minutes before Cicchino made that turn away from his street, Maui fire officials had issued an ominous warning. The Lahaina brush fire had sparked that morning, but authorities reported it was contained. Now, officials said, erratic wind, challenging terrain and flying embers made it hard to predict the fire’s path and speed. It could be a mile away, Fire Assistant Chief Jeff Giesea said, “but in a minute or two, it can be at your house.”
Cicchino did a U-turn, ran into his house and told his wife they needed to leave: “We need to go! We need to get out of here now!”
They ran to the car with five dogs and called police, and a dispatcher said to follow the traffic. Access to the main highway — the only road leading in and out of Lahaina — was cut off by barricades set up by authorities. The roadblocks forced Cicchino and the line of cars onto Front Street.
A few blocks away, Kehau Kaauwai said the wind was so intense it tore the roof from her neighbor’s home. It felt like tornado after tornado was slicing down her street.
“It roared,” she said. “It sounded like an airplane landing on our street.”
Within moments, she said, the smoke that had been blocks away suddenly engulfed them. It darkened from gray to black, day seemed to turn to night.
Kaauwai couldn’t even see buildings anymore. Something was exploding; it sounded like fireworks. She ran inside. She couldn’t think — she just grabbed her dog and some clothes, never imagining she would not see her house or anything in it ever again.
Around 4 p.m., she got into her car. Traffic crawled, people were dragging uprooted trees out of the road with their bare hands. Debris whipped in the wind and banged on the car. Danger seemed to come from every direction.
Kaauwai would have driven to Front Street, but a stranger walking by told her to go the other way. She wishes now she could thank him, because he might have saved her life.
On gridlocked Front Street, people were panicking, crying, screaming, honking.
Bill Wyland grabbed his computer, passport and Social Security card and stuffed them into a backpack. He got on his Harley Davidson and drove on the sidewalk.
At one point, he passed a man on a bicycle madly pedaling for his life. Some were abandoning cars and fleeing on foot. The smoke was so thick, so toxic, some said they vomited.
“It’s something you’d see in a ‘Twilight Zone’ horror movie or something,” Wyland said.
The street was so jammed, he thinks if he’d taken his car instead, he would have died or been forced into the ocean. The people sitting in their cars saw black smoke ahead.
“We’re all driving into a death trap,” Mike Cicchino thought. He told his wife: “We need to jump out of this car, abandon the car, and we need to run for our lives.”
“The cars sounded like bombs going off,” Donnie Roxx said. “It was dark, it was 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and it looked like midnight.”
A seawall separates the town from the ocean, and Roxx realized he and his neighbors were confronting a horrific decision: stay on burning land or go to the water. The sea was churning and treacherous even for strong swimmers, as the wind kicked up the waves.
“There was no warning. There was absolutely none,” said Lynn Robinson. “Nobody came around. We didn’t see a fire truck or anybody.”
