by Terri Reid
He finally saw the outline of the tall gate through the deluge. Parking in front of it, he dashed from the truck. It took him a minute to fit the key in the lock as water streamed down his face, but finally he was successful and unlocked it. Slipping the lock from its sleeve, he pushed the gate wide open. But as he turned back, he heard another ominous crack and barely had time to duck for cover before another large tree crashed down, smashing the cab of the pickup.
There was no way to get back to the safety of the shelters. He’d have to use the small shelter they had built near the concessionary. Dashing towards the building, slipping on the rain-soaked ground, he could feel the velocity of the wind increase. He didn’t need to look to the west; he knew he only had a few minutes to get Stacy and himself to safety.
Chapter Thirty-five
The lights flickered, and Stacy looked up from the laptop. She had been so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t noticed that the rain had increased. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost time to close up, so she saved her work and started to shut down the laptop. A strong gust of wind shook the building, and Stacy could hear loud tapping on the outside walls. Curious, she stuffed the laptop into her backpack and walked over to the door. As soon as she opened it, the door was ripped from her hands and slammed against the wall. She stared out the door at the chaos in front of her. Debris was flying through the air, and the rain was coming down in sheets. The tapping she’d heard was the trees around the building bending over and knocking against the roof.
She moved behind the door and, using the wall for leverage, pushed it closed. Leaning against it, she wiped the rain from her face and tried to calm her pounding heart. This wasn’t just a thunderstorm, she realized. That last siren had been not been a test. There was a tornado heading her way.
Running across the room, she picked up the radio. Could she have worked through the call? Could she have really missed the warning? Pressing the button, she tried to make a connection with the main building, but the radio wouldn’t respond.
“This is Stacy,” she called. “Please, someone, answer. This is Stacy Gage.”
The connection was dead. Did anyone realize she was out here all alone?
She looked around the building. There was no lower level, and the bathroom was on the outer wall of the building. There was no place for a secure shelter. She tried to bite back the panic that was gripping her. Just because there was a tornado in the area, she reasoned, didn’t mean it was going to hit the reserve.
The wind increased, and she heard the screeching of trees being bent back and forth by the wind. Her heart pounded. She knew that sound. That was the noise they made just before the tornado had hit her home, just before her parents had died. Terror, paralyzing and soul-clenching, stole over her. She was stranded. A tornado was coming, and there was nowhere for her to hide.
The lights flickered once again, and then they went out. She was plunged into darkness. The wind increased, and the sound of the tree limbs crashing against the rooftop brought her to her knees in horror. “No,” she cried, clutching her hands over her ears to shut out the noise. “No, please.”
The door slammed open again, and she screamed.
“Stacy,” Henry yelled, rain dripping from his body. “Stacy.”
“Here,” she cried back, jumping up and running to him. “I’m here.”
Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her towards the door. “We have to get out of here,” he yelled.
“No,” she screamed, pulling back as fear gripped her. “The tornado’s here.”
“I know. There’s a shelter. An underground shelter only thirty yards away from us,” he explained. “It’s our best chance for survival.”
“Henry, I don’t want to die,” she sobbed.
His arms tightened around her. “You won’t die, Stacy,” he said. “I promise.”
He pulled her out into the rain, and they half-ran, half-slipped through the grass. Branches and leaves slapped against their bodies, and the wind pushed against them, making it difficult to move forward. “We’re almost there,” Henry called, encouraging her on.
A steel, double door, implanted in the ground and surrounded by a concrete edge, was only a few feet ahead. “It’s not a big shelter,” he yelled through the wind. “But it’s secure.”
When they reached the door, Henry held onto Stacy with one hand, and with the other he pulled up the heavy door. “There are flashlights at the foot of the steps,” he called, helping her past him into the shelter.
She stumbled down the concrete stairs but caught herself before she fell. Reaching around in the darkness, she located a flashlight and turned it on just as Henry pulled the door closed behind him with a resounding bang. The shelter was a small room that was about ten feet by ten feet square and about ten feet deep. The walls were cinderblock and concrete, and attached to them were shelves that held water and other supplies. Stacy hurried to one of the shelves and pulled down two blankets. She handed one to Henry, and he dried his face with the corner.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his breath coming out in gasps.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “I thought…” she stammered, unable to calm her fears. “I thought you left me.”
He met her eyes and slowly shook his head. “I would never leave you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Don’t you know that?”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. Henry stepped to her side and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry,” she stuttered against his chest. “I was just so scared.”
A loud crash from above echoed in the small chamber, and Stacy jumped. Henry led her away from the door area into the far corner of the shelter. “Come on,” he said softly. “It’s safer over here.”
He put his blanket on the floor in the corner. “Now, why don’t you sit down,” he said. “This storm will blow over in no time.”
She nodded mutely and sat, shivering from both cold rain and fear. Sitting down next to her, he placed the other blanket around both of them and pulled her against him, laying his cheek on the top of her head. “Hey, it’s okay,” he encouraged. “I’ll protect you.”
He heard her soft sob and lifted his head. “Stacy?” he questioned gently.
She lifted her face to his. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m trying to be brave. It’s just…it’s just… I can’t.”
His heart broke, and he cradled her face in his hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “Oh, Stacy,” he said again, but this time the words came out like a reverent prayer as he lowered his lips to hers.
The soft brush of his lips against hers sent a spark of surprised warmth through her body. She started to back away, but his hands held her in place as he tenderly tasted her lips again. He moved slowly, first exploring one corner of her mouth and then the other. He savored her flavor, teasing and tasting.
Cold was replaced with warmth. The sounds of the storm were muted as her own heartbeat pounded in her ears. Fear was exchanged for passion, and she moaned softly beneath him. She was in Henry’s arms. This was where she belonged.
The elements were forgotten as he swallowed her moan and crushed her lips against his own. The storm inside raged as desperately as the one outside as he pulled her closer.
She shivered, not with cold, as her body burned with desire. Threading her hands up his strong neck and into his hair, she returned his kisses with a hunger she hadn’t realized she possessed. “Henry,” she moaned softly.
Encouraged by her soft sighs and shy caresses, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on the blanket, laying her alongside him, her body sheltered by his. As he rained kisses on her face, he slowly stroked her sides, pulling her shirt out of the waistband of her slacks, eager to feel the silkiness of her skin. She gasped at the spark of electricity when his hand met her flesh, and her eyes widened in wonder. “Henry,” she murmur
ed again, her voice thick with desire.
Lost in her gaze, he pulled her closer, wanting even more.
The door of the shelter rattled violently, and Stacy suddenly stiffened, her eyes filling with fear. “Henry, the door,” she cried, burying her head against his chest. “It’s like my parents. It’s going to suck us up.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her against his body. But there was no passion in this embrace. There was only safety and protection. “I promised you I would protect you,” he whispered. “And I will. You are not going to die.”
She shivered violently, and he wrapped the blanket tighter, kissing her gently on the top of her head. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I trust you, Henry.”
Self-recrimination and guilt replaced passion as he realized he had nearly allowed his feelings for her to outweigh the offense he’d committed against her. And he’d led her along without allowing her to know the truth.
“It’s okay, Stacy,” he murmured. “You’ll be safe.”
Safe from the tornado, he berated himself. And safe from me, until you know the truth.
Chapter Thirty-six
Henry held Stacy in his arms as the storm raged above them. Generally tornados only lasted a few minutes and moved on, but whether this was a large storm or had multiple vortexes, the storm continued to rage outside their storm shelter. The door continued to rattle fiercely, and the ground above them shook with the force of the limbs and trees being felled by the wind and toppling above the shelter. With each thump, Stacy flinched in Henry’s arms, her eyes fixated on the door, waiting for it to break open and suck them out. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Henry whispered, rubbing her cold arms. “It’s almost over.”
She inhaled raggedly and nodded, trying to contain the panic that was threatening to overcome her. It was as if she was twelve again and the tornado that took her parents had come back to wreak its destructive ferocity on her again. She closed her eyes for a moment, burrowing against Henry’s chest, feeling the safety of his arms. But as soon as the door rattled again, her eyes popped open in fear.
“Soon,” Henry said, trying to keep her calm. “It will be over soon.”
As if it heard him, the storm began to dissipate. The howling wind died down, the door stopped rattling and there were no more tremors in the ground. He held her for a few more moments and then gently tried to rouse her. “Listen, Stacy,” he said. “It’s over. The storm has passed by.”
She grabbed on to his arms and shook her head. “No,” she whispered urgently. “It’s just the quiet before the storm. Please don’t go out there.”
“Stacy, I have to go out and check,” he said. “We need to get you out of here.”
Nodding slowly, she forced herself to move away from the shelter of his arms. “Just be careful,” she pleaded.
He reached over and kissed her forehead tenderly. “I will,” he promised.
Standing, he grabbed the flashlight and climbed up the steps to the door. Unlatching the security bar, he put his weight against the door and pushed. As he feared, there was debris on top of the door. He pushed again, dislodging the debris and opening the door. Sunlight streamed down into the shelter, and the fresh scent of rain filled the room.
Climbing back down, he hurried to Stacy’s side, helping her to her feet. “The storm’s gone,” he said. “Come on. Let’s see what’s left of the concessionary.”
She climbed out of the shelter and felt sick to her stomach as she slowly surveyed the scene around her. Trees were toppled all around them, their bark shaved off by the wind. The fences were smashed, and the steel tram lines were bent and twisted. The concessionary was damaged, but it was still mostly intact. Debris and foliage covered everything around them.
Henry sighed. “I wonder how the rest of the park fared.”
She nodded. “I’m sure the owner is going to be devastated,” she murmured.
“Yes, I’m sure he will be,” Henry agreed sadly.
He looked down at her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Ready to walk back and see?” he asked.
Looking up at him, she nodded, unsure of how to act with him now that they were out of danger. Was their passion just a shared moment of comfort during a storm, or was there something more? Hesitantly, she worried her lip for a moment and finally shook her head. “Sure, you lead, I’ll follow.”
He took her hand and then paused, lifting his other hand to caress her cheek. “What happened down there,” he said, glancing at the shelter and then meeting her eyes. “It wasn’t just a random experience caused by the storm. It meant a lot to me.”
Smiling up at him, she stepped closer, lifting her free hand to his shoulder. “It meant a lot to me, too,” she replied, sliding her hand around his neck, welcoming another kiss. Her heart was brimming with hope and love.
But instead of kissing her, he stepped back, and her heart dropped. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “There are some things I need to explain to you. And then, after that…well, after that we’ll see what happens.”
“What things?” she asked.
He stepped forward, her hand sheltered within his own. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he said. “I think you’ve endured enough today.”
Endured? Stacy thought. What in the world does he have to say that would be considered enduring?
Turning back, he placed a finger under her chin and gently angled her face up. “And don’t start worrying about it,” he chided softly. “Let it rest until tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
It took Henry and Stacy twice as long as usual to get back to the main buildings because of the debris left in the tornado’s wake. They stood at the start of the road back, trying to get their bearings. Large trees and branches crisscrossed the roadway. Fences were down, and trees that were still standing had been stripped bare of foliage and bark.
“I think if we go straight down the middle, we’ll be safest,” Henry suggested, climbing up on the first log and offering his hand to Stacy. “Just be careful where you put your feet. Everything’s slippery and unsteady.”
Stacy climbed up beside him, the backpack they had rescued from the concessionary on her back. “Sounds like emergency vehicles are on their way,” she said, hearing the sirens in the distance. “I hope no one was hurt.”
Although she didn’t say it aloud, Henry knew she was thinking about her grandmother. He squeezed her hand gently and held it until she turned to look at him. “She’s probably fine,” he said. “The tornado traveled north of Prairie Grove. The forecasters didn’t think it would even affect the town.”
Breathing a soft sigh of relief, she nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”
They moved forward, stepping carefully to be sure no electric wires were hidden among the refuse of the chain-link fence. Passing the first gate, they found it mangled and twisted, hanging haphazardly from its hinges. Henry looked around.
“What are you looking for?” Stacy asked as she climbed over another thick log to join him.
“I’m sure this is where I left my truck,” he replied, “although it wasn’t in any condition to be driven.”
Stacy climbed back up on the log and looked around. “Oh, Henry,” she said, her voice thick with dismay.
“What?” he asked, climbing up next to her.
She pointed out into an adjacent field where Henry’s truck lay upside down in the midst of tree limbs and wire. “I think it’s over there.”
Henry looked over to where she had pointed and groaned. “Well, crap. I had only three more payments,” he complained.
She giggled. She didn’t mean to, but after all she had been through, all the stress, all the terror, his comment about three more payments seemed incredibly funny and very normal.
“What?” he asked.
“I think you need to practice parking,” she suggested, biting back a smile.
“That is so not funny, Stacy,” he replied, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He shr
ugged and sighed. “Okay, I might have forgotten to engage the parking brake.”
The sound of her laughter lightened his heart, and he grinned at her. “Don’t tell my mom,” he said with a wink.
“I promise,” she chuckled. “She won’t hear it from me.”
He jumped down and extended his hand to her. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a bit more walking to do.”
Ten minutes later they heard the sound of a truck horn as Ed and Rueben drove up the road towards them, a large plow coupled to the front of the vehicle so it pushed debris off the road, clearing the way.
Ed stuck his head out of the side window. “Well, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see both of you,” he said. “We were really worried.”
“Henry got us both to safety just in time,” Stacy replied. “We were in the storm shelter, and it passed right over us.”
“How’s it look?” Rueben asked.
“Like it was an EF4 or 5,” Henry said. “It’s a mess back there. We need to get some crews in there as soon as possible to clear trees away and get the fences back up. And we need to make sure the fence line along the highway is secure. We don’t want any of the animals getting out of the reserve.”
“Right away, bo—,” Ed cut off the last word when he received a warning glance from Henry. “Boy…oh, boy, what an afternoon. Right?”
“You can say that again,” Stacy agreed, oblivious to Ed nearly calling Henry “boss.”
“Do you want us to drive you back or continue up the road?” Reuben asked.
