They arrive at a cave carved into the hillside, the only sanctuary left after the storm. It is a holy place now, having saved hundreds of villagers during the worst of Hurricane Matthew, when nature tore their homes to the ground. It is still the only thing to protect them.

For four days and nights, they huddled in its womb before emerging, frightened the hurricane might return. They slept on a floor of stacked boulders near the cave’s mouth, lighting small fires for warmth and light.

When they left, they salvaged enough to shield them from the sun, a few corroded sheets of zinc and scattered wooden beams. But when it rains they return to the cave, their shacks unable to keep the water out. And despite the odor and humidity, the unforgiving crags and profound darkness, they are thankful.

“It is our house that God created when we most needed it,” said Destine Jean, one of the villagers who first alerted the government of the closest town, Beaumont, to the people living in caves. “Without this cave, a lot of people would have died. This is the only shelter we have.”