Riding out Ike on an island, with a lion

updated 9:10 p.m. ET Sept. 16, 2008

BOLIVAR PENINSULA, Texas - Many years from now, a small group of Hurricane Ike survivors will probably still be telling the story of how, on the night the storm flattened their island, they took sanctuary in a church — with a lion.

The full-grown lion was from a local zoo, and the owner was trying to drive to safety with the animal when he saw cars and trucks stranded in the rising floodwaters. He knew he and the lion were in trouble.

He headed for the church and was met by a group of residents who helped the lion wade inside, where they locked it in a sanctuary as the storm raged. The water crept up to their waists, and two-by-fours came floating through broken windows. But the lion was as calm as a kitten.

When daylight came, everyone was still alive.

"They worked pretty well together, actually," said the lion's owner, Michael Ray Kujawa. "When you have to swim, the lion doesn't care about eating nobody."

Amid the destruction in places like Bolivar Peninsula and Galveston, where row upon row of houses were scoured from the landscape, seemingly impossible tales of survival have begun emerge. Whether through faith or fate, luck or resourcefulness, dozens of people who stayed behind made it out alive, and have harrowing stories to prove it.

As of Tuesday, the official death toll from Ike stood at 47. Only 17 were in Texas — and many of those were people killed by fires or generator fumes after the storm had passed. However, authorities held out the possibility that some victims were washed out to sea.

Among those who made it out alive was Kathi Norton, who put on a life jacket as the storm closed in on High Island, on the Bolivar Peninsula. She and her husband, Paul, knew the dangers of staying, and put their important documents, credit cards, money and cell phones into a plastic bag, and held on tight.

House broke apart
All too quickly, the floodwaters rose and the house started to break apart. Through the gaps, they saw refrigerators, lawn mowers and hot tubs floating past. The deck broke away next. Then the roof started to buckle.

"The whole floor was just opened out," he said. Norton grabbed his wife and headed for an outdoor staircase, escaping in time only because a flagpole kept the house from crashing down for a few precious seconds. "I look up, the house is coming on us," he said.

For hours, they sloshed around in 4-foot waves before finding themselves perched in a tree.

Historic Galveston looks to a different future Latino laborers are key to recovery Some may not be allowed to rebuild Insurers balk on paying surge damage Cowboys, others round up critters Newsweek: Riders on the storm First Person: Are you there? | Your photos Interactive map of Ike's wrath Explore images of the aftermath Join discussion, view images on Newsvine Coverage by Houston-area affiliates

They finally made their way onto someone's motor home, which then started to sink. They were able to cling to rafters of a nearby structure and hang on until daybreak.

"We had to grab that staircase and float wherever it took us," the 68-year-old retiree said.

Willis Turner decided to ride it out on his wooden boat next to his house on Crystal Beach, also on Bolivar Peninsula, but it nearly capsized and he was saved by a rope his wife tossed to him. The two held on inside a home that she said "vibrated like a guitar string."

"It was like an atomic bomb going off. Right after the eye passed, whole houses came by us at 30 miles an hour — WHOLE HOUSES! — just floating right past," Turner said. "It was unreal. Unreal."

Turner and his wife awoke the next day to an island they no longer recognized. The first four rows of houses on the beach were washed into the sea. There were no more restaurants, no more gas stations, no more grocery stores. The neighborhood was gone.

In Galveston, Charlene Warner, 52, weathered the storm with her landlord and a neighbor in the apartment above her own.

"It felt like an earthquake — the rumbling and the rocking of the building," she said, smoking outside a shelter in San Antonio. "Everyone was praying."

"It was so terrible. All I could say was, 'Lord, please don't kill me. Forgive me for what I done,'" Warner said, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

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