Guthrie interrupted Luke’s thoughts. “Or we could figure out how to get the best shot from here. We’ll either need to race up in front of everyone so they’re not in our shot, or….”
With a smile, Luke said, “Yeah. Or. Follow me.”
The tornado was no longer visible to them, but it’d soon cross the street before disappearing behind another grove of trees on the east side of the road. At that point, everyone would clear out, and he and Guthrie could regroup.
They jogged back to the truck and pretended to be occupied. Luke didn’t want to enact his plan until go-time in case it caused a bunch of copycats.
“Shhh,” Luke said. “You hear that? The tornado?”
It sounded like driving with the windows down. Or the rumble at a racetrack. An overwhelming whoosh that increased with every second. The wind was growing stronger, the tornado sucking leaves and grass toward it, even from this far away.
“Here we go,” Guthrie said.
Luke vaulted into the truck bed, and Guthrie followed him. Luke then climbed onto the roof.
“Christ, Luke. Be careful,” Guthrie hissed.
Luke smiled down at him. Now he was at a much higher elevation than everyone else and was able to get a clean shot from above their heads. Guthrie stayed in the truck bed.
The edge of the tornado peeked into view. Guthrie said, “We have a good shot. It’s crossing the road in front of us.”
The other storm chasers in their vicinity were doing exactly what Luke had suspected—scrambling for position on the ground, trying to be the person at the front of the line.
Guthrie said, “We’ll be live in seconds.”
Luke gave him a thumbs-up, anticipation pinging through him. Storm chasing in Oklahoma was truly a different ball game. It felt like he’d been called up to the big leagues.
Guthrie’s voice deepened and slowed, which indicated that he was broadcasting. “The tornado is coming into view as it crosses County Road 3117 in front of us. It is around half a mile from our location. It appears to be heading due east. There it is!” Guthrie’s voice raised in pitch, like he was excited, but Luke now knew this stuff didn’t excite Guthrie. It terrified him. “It’s still a rope tornado. Very tight rotation. Oh, there are multiple vortices! Seth, can you see our feed?”
Luke’s heart jumped to his throat. He’d chased a lot of tornadoes, but this was the best shot he’d ever gotten. There were two columns—the main vortex and a small subvortex circling it.
“They’re going to join,” Guthrie said. “We have a tightly rotating rope tornado with a subvortex crossing County Road 3117. If you are in the Minco area, please be weather aware and take your tornado precautions. As this subvortex joins with the larger circulation, it has the ability to pick up quite a bit of strength.”
Guthrie sounded unruffled again—he was modulating his voice. Luke’s legs were shaking, adrenaline soaking his bloodstream. The other chasers were in an upheaval below him, yelling and cheering and jockeying for position, but they all melted away. Everything melted away except this feat of nature in front of him, the weight of the camera on his shoulder, and Guthrie’s voice.
“It’s in the center of the road now. There’s not a huge debris plume. We haven’t seen it hit any structures. Yes, there they go. The subvortex is joining the larger tornado. The updraft has increased substantially from our location, which indicates that this tornado is strengthening.”
At Guthrie’s words, a particularly strong gust of wind tried to take Luke’s hat. Well, Guthrie’s hat. On instinct, Luke slapped it back on his head, but it caused him a moment of instability. He teetered, managing to keep the camera mostly steady.
“Oh God!” Guthrie blurted. Luke straightened and tried to locate what Guthrie was reacting to, only to realize Guthrie’s outburst was due to him almost slipping.
Busting his ass from the top of the truck would have been embarrassing, but he’d recovered nicely.
Guthrie coughed. “Excuse me. The tornado seems to be moving slowly while gaining wind speed and strength. Again, if you’re in the north Minco area, take your tornado precautions.”
The twister slipped back out of view, hidden by trees, and the broadcast moved to a different storm chaser.
The chasers around them were already jumping in their vehicles, heading north or south to try to get back in front of the tornado. Before Luke could get off the top of the truck, they’d been left in the dust. Exactly as they’d planned.
Luke felt exhilarated. Strong. Competent. He’d gotten them a killer fucking shot. He’d never seen a tornado with multiple vortices in person. The vortices were usually too rain-wrapped to view clearly.
Guthrie was talking into his headset, letting the station know they were going to pause for navigation and that he’d jump back on hold with them when we were on the road. He pulled his headset off and set it down in the truck bed. Then he reached up to take the camera from Luke. Luke handed it down.
They needed to get a move on if they were going to get in front of this sucker, but he couldn’t help but take a moment to stare down at Guthrie. Luke was sure he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
That was probably the adrenaline talking, pumping him full of emotions and excitement. But this moment had been special. The lightning storm their first night out had also been special. Maybe it wasn’t the weather that kept making all of these moments exceptional. Maybe it was Guthrie.
Guthrie held his hand up to help Luke down, and Luke took it. He hopped into the truck bed. Then his cheeks were in Guthrie’s hands, their faces centimeters apart.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I thought you were going to fall off your fucking truck,” Guthrie growled before crashing his lips down on Luke’s. The kiss was fierce and terrific and way, way too brief, like a dust devil. There and gone in a breath.
Luke reeled back when Guthrie released him. He’d hardly had time to react to the heat, the softness of Guthrie’s lips. There had been no storm warning for the calamity ripping through Luke’s heart. He knew without a doubt—that kiss had changed things for him. It was a disaster, and he wanted to do it again and again.
They stared at each other, standing in a truck bed on a now abandoned gravel road in the boonies.
“Shall we take the route through the pasture?” Guthrie asked, as if he hadn’t just laid a wet one on Luke. “Everyone else is going to go miles out of their way, but we can cut through to the east entrance of the pasture, then jump on Roedown Road heading east. Should be able to run parallel with the tornado there, with lots of options to turn north or south if the tornado changes course.”
“Dude, if you expect me to be able to think after that kiss, you’re overestimating me.”
Guthrie’s smile was fast and fleeting as the wind, but it’d been a real one. “That makes us 4-0.”
Chapter Ten
So that happened. Guthrie had kissed Luke. It was dumb. Like… like super dumb, and he didn’t know why he’d done it. Other than adrenaline and thankfulness and the very real need for a distraction.
Guthrie couldn’t think about it. They had a job to do. An important one. If he dwelled too much, he’d wriggle onto Luke’s lap and they’d miss the whole tornadic shebang for some banging of their own.
Guthrie loaded the ENG camera into the back seat and threw his headset around his neck. He unlocked the gate for Luke to drive through, then closed and locked it behind him.
When Guthrie jumped back into the front seat, Luke said, “Is that thing on?” He pointed at the headset.
“No. I’ll call them back once we’re through the pasture. I don’t want KTTY to know about our shortcut because—”
Luke grabbed his chin and kissed the words from his lips. This wasn’t like the drive-by kiss that Guthrie had laid on Luke. No, this one had legs. Luke held Guthrie by his chin, and Guthrie’s fingers delved into Luke’s beard. Luke’s lips were soft and insistent. Perfect. It was perfect. A moan worked its way up Guthrie’s throat,
but it got lost in the heat of Luke’s mouth.
Without warning, Luke pushed Guthrie back into his seat—he’d been climbing over the gearshift to get closer. Then they were off, bouncing through the field.
“This isn’t over,” Luke said, a growl in his voice.
“Okay,” Guthrie said faintly.
“Has any of your mom’s land been hit?”
Guthrie had to get his head back in the game. “No. Those trees are on her property line, and it was north of them.”
“Good.” Luke was breathing hard, and Guthrie wanted to press a hand to the rising and falling chest. He didn’t, but he wanted to. Maybe he was learning restraint after all. After a few seconds, Luke said, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? It was just a kiss.” Guthrie snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes, and banged his head against the headrest. He was not keeping his cool at all.
“I mean with the tornado chasing. And the stuff with Slim.”
“Oh yeah. That. I’m okay.” The kiss was taking up most of his mental space at the moment.
Guthrie pointed to the gate on the east end of the pasture. This shortcut had whacked a full five minutes off their route, even with the kissing beforehand. He’d keep it a secret from the station, though. It wasn’t a good look for KTTY vehicles to go cavorting through private property, despite the fact they had permission. Luke pulled up to the gate, and they did the whole unlocking, opening, closing, relocking dance again.
Once Guthrie was back in the truck, he immediately reactivated his connection to the station to inform them of their location. They jumped on Roedown Road, heading east. Their view of the tornado was still obscured by trees.
Chaser Chat was going wild with updates. Johanna and Dee had a perfect shot of the tornado, and their coverage was fabulous. Unlike Guthrie, Johanna preferred to drive and report at the same time, which freed up her partner, Dee, to navigate and handle the different cameras. Guthrie could hear Seth’s voice in his ear. He was being his normal empathetic yet reliable self.
Guthrie studied the radar on his various phone apps, then switched to the navigation software on the laptop to double-check their alternate routes.
“These trees will clear up in half a mile, and if we book it, we should have an unobstructed view of it,” Guthrie said. As it was, they could see the top of the funnel but were too close to the trees to track the tornado easily. At least they knew it was in front of them, not beside them.
Luke sped up slightly, but not as much as some chasers would have. He was such a careful, conscientious driver. Guthrie appreciated that about him. The most dangerous part of storm chasing was not the tornado or high winds or hail. It wasn’t the projectiles that could slice you in half. It was other drivers.
Guthrie watched words scroll by on Chaser Chat. “Johanna’s at a dead end and having to circle back. None of us have a shot. Delilah Sanchez is on her way in the chopper for a different viewpoint,” he told Luke.
A spatter of rain hit the windshield. It wasn’t a downpour, but it came out of nowhere, making them both jump. They were nearing the end of the tree line, and Guthrie’s heart rate spiked. He had no idea what to expect on the other side of those trees. It could be a dying tornado, or it could be a tornado gaining speed, momentum, and violence. He didn’t like not knowing.
Luke gasped as the trees thinned, and Guthrie’s breath lodged in his throat, causing him to cough and sputter. Through the choking, he managed to say, “We have a shot from the dashcam. It’s now a cone tornado.”
Seth immediately pitched to Guthrie. Cutting through Rose Rock Ranch had given them an advantage. There were no other chasers on this road.
Guthrie took a sip of water to relieve the scratchiness in his throat. “We are currently driving east on Roedown Road, which turns into County Road 3120 on the other side of the Canadian River. We are about half a mile from the Canadian River. We just passed a cross street called North River Road. The next cross street is”—Guthrie checked his map to be sure—“Rockford. I repeat, this tornado is heading toward Rockford. It will be less than half a mile north of the intersection of Roedown Road and Rockford very shortly. It is moving east-northeast. If you are in the vicinity, please take shelter. This tornado has developed into a cone tornado. It is northeast of us and moving slowly.”
It started to rain harder, and Luke flipped the windshield wipers to a higher setting. They were drawing even with the tornado from the south, which wasn’t ideal for the dashcam. They needed to stay behind it for the best shot. Luke slowed to a crawl.
“Can you describe the landscape, Guthrie? Have you seen this tornado hit any structures?” Seth asked.
“I don’t believe it has, at least not since it came back into our view. We are in a very rural area.”
Luke snapped his fingers and pointed.
Guthrie held in a groan. “However, it does appear to be approaching a barn. Hopefully, it will skirt the barn to the north.”
It didn’t. They watched as the old—and Guthrie hoped, abandoned—barn collapsed like a stack of matchsticks.
“Oh no.” Guthrie’s pulse pounded in his ears. He checked the navigation software again. They were fine. Plenty of roads on which to turn if needed. “The tornado has hit the barn and is moving closer to the Canadian River.”
Seth took it from there, reminding viewers which towns and townships could expect the tornado to be in their neighborhood and what the projected timeline was. Guthrie could picture the towns listed in a box at the bottom of the Doppler radar screen. It’d say something like, “Union City 8:01 p.m.” On the next line would be Mustang or Yukon, both of which were higher population centers.
Guthrie didn’t want to witness a tornado hit a big town. Or any size town, really. They’d gotten lucky so far with this one. It’d missed the center of Minco and had traveled through a bunch of fields. That could change quickly, and Guthrie wasn’t prepared.
Wind seemed to be blowing directly into Guthrie’s ears. It took a few seconds for him to realize he was hearing the literal tornado, not a psychosomatic noise due to his own stress. Luckily, the KTTY Storm Team 7 chopper had reached the scene and Seth swung to Delilah’s feed and away from Luke’s dashcam.
They continued to follow the tornado from the southwest. Guthrie’s breathing was too loud, but he couldn’t stop it. He had one hand wrapped around the oh-shit handle and the other clenched in his lap. Luke reached over and grabbed that hand, giving it a squeeze.
Guthrie managed to wheeze, “Both hands. Wheel. Please.”
Luke laughed softly, and the sound cleared some of the fuzziness in Guthrie’s brain. He managed a slow breath. Luke put both hands back on the steering wheel.
Guthrie unclenched his hand and awkwardly patted Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s body was warm through his T-shirt, and Guthrie wanted to keep touching him. He wanted to ignore the big “fuck you” from Mother Nature taking place in front of them.
Luke tensed. “I think it’s getting closer to us.”
Guthrie snapped his gaze back to the tornado. “It is,” he said, raising his voice. “It’s turning south. Slow down. Be prepared to back up.”
Tornadoes were unpredictable, but he’d expected this one to move east or northeast like most did. Stupid. He was stupid.
It was heading straight toward them.
Fuck, they were too close. Guthrie desperately tried to make sense of the maps in front of him, but it was gibberish, bouncing around on the page. He didn’t know where their best escape route was anymore. Luke pulled into the left-hand lane and threw the truck into reverse, creeping backward. Theirs was the only vehicle on this road for miles—thank God for flat landscapes.
Luke stretched an arm over the back of Guthrie’s seat and looked over his shoulder as he reversed. It was so skillful. So competent. He was cool as a cucumber while Guthrie was freaking out on the inside. This all felt too familiar. They were too close.
Too close.
Seth said, �
�Let’s go back over to Guthrie Gale and Luke Masters. Guthrie, what’s happening on the ground?”
“The, uh. The tornado’s path has changed. It appears to be, umm. It’s heading south. It’s coming toward us, so we’re backing up to give it some room.”
Guthrie shook his head and tried to regulate his breathing. He was already stumbling all over his words.
“Yes, there it is,” he continued. Luke was still backing up, moving faster. A tree branch flew past their window. “We are in the updraft zone. The tornado is pulling debris from near our vehicle into the funnel.” To Luke, he said, “Faster.”
“I got you,” Luke said.
The rain increased, making it harder to see the tornado. Guthrie tried to keep talking. Tried to keep his voice calm when he was anything but calm. “The tornado’s shaped like a stovepipe, straight up and down, rather than a cone. Yes. Uh, it’s crossing Roedown Road directly in front of us.”
They rolled over something, making the truck bounce and jostling the laptop on its stand.
Seth said, “What was that? Guthrie, are you okay?”
Through gritted teeth, Luke said, “Fence post.”
“We hit some debris in the road, but we’re fine,” Guthrie explained. “Can you still see our feed?”
“Yes. It flickered for a second but it’s back,” Seth said.
The tornado zipped across the road in front of them, too close for comfort. Luke gunned it, going backward at a fast clip to get to safety.
“Oh God. This is….” Guthrie searched for a word, his heart beating so hard he could feel it on the back of his tongue. “A lot.”
Once they were safely out of the updraft zone of the tornado and debris was no longer flying by them, Luke pulled to the side of the road and parked. The tornado swept up a thicket of trees, turning them to wood chips. Huge chunks of debris spiraled in the funnel. Guthrie tried to guess at what they were.
Maybe a signpost or a propane tank. Maybe a pine tree or a car door.
Natural Disaster Page 10
