The funnel of clouds first formed sideways, then it bent its twisting, dark gray tail downward until it hit the ground.
“Jerry!” she yelled it at the top of her lungs as the wind picked up and Toto dug tighter into her shoulder. “We just got another one!”
38
“Turn it up. Turn it up!” Cage hollered into the car, waving his hand toward Deveron.
His friend handled the radio controls while Cage kept his eyes on the road. He couldn't afford to look away. Possibly damaging the car, or—worse yet—getting themselves into an accident would only compound their troubles.
The sky had turned steel gray in an instant as he watched in the rearview mirror and Cage wondered if Joule had possibly survived the first tornado, only to get killed by this new one.
The voice came through the radio in clipped but measured tones. “A funnel has touched down north of Horton. This sighting is reported by several local residents, though at this time we have no official confirmation or rating.”
As the announcer repeated the wording slightly slower and a little more clearly, Cage flicked his eyes to Deveron, who shook his head in return. That's where they were headed—north—where they had previously hoped Joule and Izzy would have been dropped. Now, he wanted to be wrong.
Was the funnel ahead of them? There were trees on either side of the road now, too tall for them to see more than the dark clouds looming at the edges of their vision. And there was more darkness gathering behind them. Cage’s eyes flicked to the rear view again… were funnels forming back there, too?
Holy crap, it seemed they were coming from every direction.
And what was with this day? They'd already had three!
He must have said it out loud, because Dev responded, “Apparently, it's common to see them in clusters.”
“What?” Cage swerved at the last moment around a darting squirrel. The last thing he needed was animals jumping out and making the already obstructed roadway into even more of a hazard.
As he and Deveron righted themselves from the jerking motion, Dev answered, “I looked it up before moving here. The F scale. About the tornado they had here before we arrived.”
Cage had done a little of his own research, too, but got the feeling that he and Joule had decided that the area was relatively tornado-safe. It was the whole reason Helio Systems was building the array here. So, he'd been prepared for dust devils, maybe the small kind of funnel that might twist the young trees, but not more.
As he drove into the darkening skies in front of them, the forests gave way to open land. In the not-too-far distance, he could see the roll of clouds forming as if an unseen baker's hand was curling dough.
Not learning more had been a mistake.
“They can drop right down on a sunny day,” Dev was still telling him. “They can roll and turn sideways until they touch the ground. They can get bigger, smaller, lift up, touch down, jump, split, and collide.”
Cage wished his friend would stop talking. He didn't need any of this. He didn't need to understand that, as he watched the clouds in front of him, they could become deadly in moments. What he’d already seen today was enough—and why in hell wasn’t it over yet?
“See? We're watching it right now,” Dev was still explaining. He leaned forward, one hand braced on the dash, the other pointing. “I don't know exactly what the pressure systems are—like which ones are which—but you can see where they collide and the clouds fold under and roll. Now it's just a question of whether a funnel tips down and touches the earth.”
Cage felt his entire body tense. He'd been worried about the darkness behind them, but what was in front was now moving much faster.
The day suddenly looked like dusk. The clock in the car told him it was merely three in the afternoon. He'd seen storms roll in fast before, but this was different. Normal storms affected an entire area and spread their damage across as much as of the land as they could. Houses and structures stood or failed based on their integrity, not so much on the whim of the storm choosing to leave some places intact or focus all their rage on another. Tornadoes were more like lasers; they could pinpoint targets and completely obliterate them. They could leave another place, ten feet away, completely unharmed.
As the two watched, the funnel did exactly as Deveron had described: the left-hand side of it slowly tipped down to earth until it was perfectly vertical. As it hit the ground, it kicked up a skirt of dust and debris. Though still too far away for them to pick out any individual objects, he could see that it was moving.
And it was hungry.
Cage considered stopping the car and pulling to the side of the road, but somehow, it felt safer to stay in motion.
Reaching out, Dev put a hand on his arm as if to calm him. “We need to find a house and get inside somewhere. We need shelter.”
So the tornado could lift his car and steal it, too? Cage thought bitterly. It wasn’t the car that he was so protective of, it was his ability to search for his sister. The very thought of Joule being alone, on foot, out here tightened everything inside him, though he knew without question that his friend was right.
“Look around,” he instructed. “Find us a place with a good cellar or substructure… something.”
Maybe they would get lucky and pass a huge “Tornado shelter” billboard with an arrow pointing to a solid structure.
In the distance, the funnel danced softly, almost rhythmically, twisting right then left. The gray color changed ever so slightly as it moved, and Cage wondered if the color was a function of what it ate. But as he watched, it seemed the weight of the clouds pushed down into the funnel, and it grew wider and wider.
With a last sudden change of direction and a moment in which it simply took a breath and grew, the twister headed straight toward them.
39
“Come inside! We have a shelter!”
Cage recognize the sound of a bullhorn, but not the voice. As one, he and Deveron whipped their heads to the right, noticing the man on the porch as he waved his hands high, holding a bullhorn that completed the picture.
Without making a conscious decision, Cage cranked the wheel. The car spun tires as it tracked too quickly from pavement to gravel. The small sedan fishtailed a little before he managed to get it back on track.
The squat house waited for them at the end of the short drive. Cage could see the nice people who had decided to take pity on the pair driving past and save their lives.
As he got closer, he saw more than just the people waving them up the drive. Hands were in windows, pushing them open. The door flung wide, but to let others in. He and Dev weren’t the only ones arriving. There must be an entire team of people inside, enacting whatever twister protocol they had. This was a normal-looking house, and it must have survived the first twisters that came through. They must have thought their day fighting storms was finished and already closed the windows from round one.
The man stepped down off the porch, the wind whipping what little hair he had combed over the top into a wild caricature. But his kind face matched his hands as he motioned Cage to bring the car to a stop. Then he waved them slightly one way and then the other, until he had them positioned where he wanted them.
He was leaving their car in the open. As Cage twisted the key out of the ignition and climbed out, he must have had an odd look on his face, because the man yelled, his voice pulled away as the winds picked up. “You don't want to be next to a tree or a structure. More likely something will fall on your car. Though honestly, it's a crapshoot.”
He shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” What he did say was, “Come inside, we have a real shelter.”
Though he was older and not in as good shape as the two young men, he waited for the two to catch up and even move past him. He settled a hand at Cage’s back, steering him up the steps and through the open front door. He didn't even bother to close it behind them. But in the short time it had taken them to enter the house, the wind had grown more forceful and Cage heard it sla
p the door shut behind them.
Ice flooded his veins—but not for himself. He had people and a shelter. But what about his sister? Where was she? Was she even alive? What about Izzy? Because, to a certain extent, Cage believed that Joule could survive anything.
Joule had faced night hunters on her own before they even knew what they were. Joule had been smart enough to buy boats before the waters rose. And if Joule had a pop-up tornado shelter in her pocket, he wouldn't say he was surprised.
But Izzy? As smart as she was, he didn’t know if she was the kind of survivor that would make it through…
The man ushered the two of them into the center of the house. In the living room, Cage could see the rug had been rolled back, revealing an open square that led down concrete steps into a space that must have been dug out underneath the low house.
Again the man followed behind them, as though to keep them safe. He was short, portly and balding, but still he protected them. He waited on the top step, carefully maneuvering himself through an odd dance to pull the trapdoor up and over. Closing it tightly, he started on a series of heavily bolted locks. As simple as they were, the construction was beyond solid. The bolts and eyes were thick, and the door made of steel.
Once he had the loops lined up, Cage helped the man slide a pin through a series of curved bars. They would stay in place even if they were flung around with high winds. And Cage thought that was smarter than maybe having a padlock that might require someone to have a key. Because as much as the tornado was locked out, the people were locked in.
When all five bars were in place and the door fully secured, Cage’s heart settled just a little, feeling that they were safe and secure.
An F6 could raze the building above them, or blow it up, or steal it away. But this place looked like it would stay.
He turned, almost running into Dev, shocked at what must be twenty people— ranging from elderly to infants—crowded into the space at the bottom of the steps. Behind him, the man still hunched under the door he’d closed flat across the top of the steps gave them a small push. “Go on down. Lower is safer.”
As they hit the last step, and he pulled up to his full—if short—height, he explained. “We built this fifteen years ago after a big one took out the house and killed my sister.”
Cage understood. So many good things were built as a reaction to harsh loss.
“All the neighbors know to come and weather the storms here,” the man added and, as Cage looked at the crowd, he realized this wasn't just all the “neighbors.”
These houses were too far apart for this many people. He did a quick head count, coming up with more than the twenty he'd originally guessed.
This man wasn't going to lose anyone else.
Holding out his hand, Cage said, “I’m Cage Mazur and this is Deveron Swan.”
The man nodded at both and simply replied, “William Butler. All are welcome here.”
In the corner, a mother curled up with two small children. She waved to the newcomers, but quickly turned back to the picture book she held open, hoping to distract her little ones. Two others, slightly older, asked if they could join and she welcomed them onto the blanket she'd laid out.
Several folding chairs sat propped against one plain cinderblock wall. Feeling the sudden need to do something other than stare or just stand around, Cage helped a man who was opening the metal chairs and seating the elderly people on them. One woman unfolded a soft blanket to pad the chair for a man who must have been her father.
Cage would have done that for his father, but his mother and father weren't like these people. And that's why they weren't still here. He turned to ask William, “How can I help?” But above him, the roar of the wind stole his voice as they all looked up.
40
The tractor slowed as it hit the gravel of the driveway, making Joule's heart race.
“Jerry, go faster!”
But he called back, “We're fine.”
She didn't believe him. The tractor was slow on a good road, and on the gravel, it was pure crap for speed. She watched the rocks crunch under the large tires and wondered if she could jump off safely and make a run for it.
With Toto, she didn't think so. And even without him, she might twist an ankle—something she couldn't afford with this kind of pressing danger.
She grabbed for the kitten, having thrown her jacket on, and hastily shoved him into one of the pockets, holding him in place. He must have been afraid enough to not squirm. She didn’t like the funnel in the distance. Her heart raced every time she looked at it, but ignoring it didn’t seem to work any better.
“Jerry, we’re faster if we run!” Though as she said it, Joule began to wonder if Jerry could even run.
She had no problem making her decisions based on keeping herself and Toto safe. But keeping Jerry safe? That was a harder call. Maybe she was a shitty person, but she didn't feel that one in her heart.
Joule reminded herself that he’d found the tractor and at least they were trying to work together.
“Not yet! I want to get closer to the house,” he called back, and she turned again to face backward in her seat. Compared to what she'd seen earlier, this funnel was slim, twisting and dancing in the distance.
Maybe Jerry was right. Maybe this stupid, slow behemoth of a tractor could outrun it. She clutched the edge of the seat with one hand, the tiny kitten softly with the other, and her jaw tight enough to make her wonder if she was cracking her teeth. And she waited.
This was one of those moments that she didn't get to decide. Fate did.
Would the tornado pick up speed and rush toward them? Would they be too far from the house to run the remaining distance? And when they got to the house, what then?
She turned again and looked, trying to assess what this place might be like. Did it have a raised foundation or a real tornado shelter?
Jerry, still a good one hundred yards from the house, finally stopped the tractor. He stood up awkwardly, the steering wheel at his waist, the seat behind him, but he grabbed the keys and said “Okay.”
Joule jumped onto the ground before he even managed to climb down. She was running for the front door, her hand still clutching Toto. The heavy objects in the pockets of her cargo pants bounced against her legs. Surely they were leaving more marks that she didn't need, but bruises were none of her concern right now.
“Around back!” Jerry yelled to her. “They have a cellar.”
Jesus, did he know everyone in Alabama?
But Joule veered, swiftly changing direction. The extra distance she'd run let Jerry catch up to her as they headed around the house. Sure enough, dark green cellar doors slanted from the back wall, old-fashioned style. They probably stored root vegetables in there. The farmhouse was a slice of history still functioning in rural Alabama.
But she didn’t have time to oooh and ahhh and marvel at the things she wasn’t used to. Joule leaned down to lift one of heavy doors. As she wrapped her fingers around the handle, she noticed the lock.
Still bent over, still ready to tug the door open, she turned back to Jerry. The wind picked up, forcing her to yell. “There's a lock!”
The cellar wasn’t worth anything if they couldn’t get into it. Her second fleeting thought was that people left the keys in their very expensive and shiny, new tractor, but they padlocked their root vegetables?
But Jerry only nodded, not seeming to think too much of it.
Joule looked up, wondering if they could get into the main part of the house. It had to be safer than being out in the open. Once again, she had no qualms about breaking in. No one seemed to be here. Had rural Alabama simply fled during the storms?
The house looked almost too easy to break into. There were too many windows that looked like real glass. A large bay window had graced the front and even the back door had nine panels across the top. She could break one out and undo the locks … too easily.
If the twister came through, it would pop this house like a packin
g bubble and all that glass would go everywhere. The cellar was definitely their best bet. She scanned the area, not sure what she was hoping to find until her gaze fell on several fist-sized rocks and she reached down to grab one.
She was going to have to take her hand off the kitten. What if he ran?
But as she looked up, she realized Jerry, too, was looking for rocks and saw that they had each found one about the right size.
Joule had to pray that Toto stayed put in her pocket as she hauled the rock back and brought it down to bash at the lock. She aimed away from the curved part, hoping to snap it free.
The lock wasn’t anything spectacular, maybe just a good high school gym locker kind of combo lock. Beside her, Jerry brought his smaller but pointier rock down onto the lock.
The cellar doors shook with each hit. The old plywood was thick and sturdy but it had seen better days. Though it took more tries than she liked, and the lock never loosened, it eventually disintegrated. The metal fell into several pieces. The tumblers inside would have enticed further examination on any day that a tornado wasn’t bearing down on her and the leader of some semi-violent protesters.
Joule fumbled the curved bar with heavy fingers, pulling it through the eyes bolted to the doors and chucking the damaged pieces aside. Together, she and Jerry lifted the doors and she spotted even more old school construction in the opening.
A tilted, ladder-like frame held slim steps made of two-by-sixes. They looked like they would at least bend if not maybe split with her weight, let alone Jerry's. Taking the first step downward, Joule felt the board flex beneath her boot. Her hand darted into her pocket and felt nothing but fleece.
Where was Toto?
She turned frantically as she tapped at her pockets, hoping she’d simply chosen the wrong one and he was on the other side, or somehow in a cargo pocket on her pants. Her eyes frantically scanned the yard, but ran into the bulk of Jerry, who blocked almost all of her view.
The Tempest Page 17
