Race the Sky

by Michael Galloway

  The waitress’ eyes widened. She hurried the other customers toward the back. John hoped he was wrong but the sky turned jet black now. The interior of the restaurant took on the color of night with a tinge of green. There were glass candles on each of the tables but they offered little light against the impending darkness. He knew there was no time for them to flee anymore. Besides, where does one run when the entire sky crashes to the earth and rages against you like a tidal wave?

  A flash of pink light lit up the parking lot and nearly blinded him. The ensuing concussive crash of thunder shook the walls of the restaurant and the plates on the table. The man with the hash brown potatoes stood up, took a hold of his wife’s hand, and ran toward the back. John shoved open the front doors of the restaurant as the wind stirred up the dust across the street. He knew he was not alone.

  As the wind tried to pry the door handle free from his grip, his eardrums crackled and popped. He forced the door shut behind him and watched as Jared yelled at him from across the parking lot. Like a child oblivious to oncoming traffic the man ranted and marched toward John, his face red and nostrils flaring. His shirt and jeans were drenched.

  “Who do you think you are anyway?” Jared snapped as he jabbed his finger in John’s direction.

  “I’m trying to get people out of the way.”

  “Out of the way of what? That?” Jared turned back and pointed at the sky. “You ever think it might be coming for you? Don’t you know enough not to stand in the way of a move of God?”

  In the distance, John heard what sounded like shotgun blasts. He knew, though, that it was not the sound of a rifle range but the sound of tree trunks exploding from the force of the winds.

  He knew he only had one or two minutes left before the wind would make it impossible to open the doors of restaurant again. “You really don’t get this, do you?” He hollered as he inched back toward the restaurant. “If you stay out here, you’re gonna die.” He extended a hand toward Jared, but withdrew the offer a moment later.

  “Is that a threat?”

  A bolt of lightning snapped at the ground in the direction of Stanton Park. It illuminated the parking lot and lit up the dragon tattoo on Jared’s forearm. Soot-colored scud raced over the town at a frantic pace. The nearby power lines whistled and wind chimes down the street sounded out a scramble of notes. Sky and earth churned together and who knew how long it would be before the entire town was airborne.

  Jared laughed but it was unlike anything John had heard before. There was a hollow and mocking edge to his voice. “Why don’t you send Maddie out? Better yet, I’ll come and get her.” The man lunged for the front doors but John blocked him.

  John reached back for the door handle, but Jared grabbed him around the waist and wrenched him to the ground. Before Jared could make his way through the doors, John extended a leg and tripped him. John got up and tried to tackle Jared with all his strength but he was unable to knock the man down. Jared hurled John into a glass-topped table before charging back to the doors. The last thing John saw before hitting his head was the angry fire-breathing dragon on Jared’s forearm.

  When he came to his senses he dove for Jared’s ankles and knocked him off balance. Jared then kicked John in the ribs and left him gasping for air. When Jared finally reached the front doors again, he was hit in the face by an elbow from Captain.

  “C’mon, John,” Captain yelled against the rising roar of the wind. Small tree branches and paper blew down the street. A yellow shred of insulation flew by and wrapped itself around one of the tabletop umbrellas.

  John crawled into the restaurant on all fours. The black-and-white checkerboard floor beneath him began to spin. Dust swirled into the lobby and he shut his eyes to catch his breath. A window to his right popped and sent glass shards skittering across the floor in front of him. As he pulled himself up by using a chair, he felt Captain push him from behind toward the swinging metal doors of the kitchen.

  Jared then grabbed Captain from behind and dragged him outside. In desperation, Captain kneed Jared in the stomach and pushed him into a nearby table. Jared threw a metal box of napkins at Captain’s head and Captain retaliated by throwing white powder into Jared’s eyes. Captain then charged back into the restaurant and dragged John by his rain-soaked shirt into the kitchen.

  Only the emergency backup light kept the kitchen illuminated now as they found their way to the cooler. John’s ears crackled again as the roof creaked and strained above him. Soon the sounds of flying glass, shattering plates, and furniture being dragged across the floor filled the air as they opened the cooler door. A dozen or more people were huddled inside in the cold while the cook held a dim flashlight. John propped himself up next to Madeline while Captain held on to the metal door with all his strength. Surrounded by boxes of French fries, chicken strips, and mozzarella sticks, John clutched Madeline’s hand. His body shuddered in pain and in the cold, but at least her hands were warm.

  Then the flashlight went dark.

  Someone screamed as objects crashed against the door of the cooler. The wind whistled as the sound of crackling wood, nonstop thunder, and moaning metal filled the air. For two long minutes glasses shattered against the cooler. Wood snapped. Captain hung on tight. Pans crashed and someone prayed to God. It felt as if all the air was being sucked out of the cooler. In the dark, John thought of the end. Madeline dug her nails into John’s palms until the noise outside subsided.

  As John held Madeline in his arms he felt her shaking and crying at the same time. She pulled back and held his face in her hands. She gave him a quick kiss and then let go. Although he could not see her eyes in the darkness, he knew she was giving him a fierce glance as she told him, “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  He tried to smile but his side ached too much. He did not know if they were going to suffocate in here but he was more determined than ever to break out with what little strength he had left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It took the effort of Captain, John, Madeline, and the cook to shove the cooler door open. The rush of fresh air that followed was a temporary but welcome relief. On the other side of the door, they found a bent metal cart full of broken dishes wedged against the handle. The once red-tiled kitchen floor was muddied and littered with metal pans, broken dishes, spilled food, tree branches, bus tubs, and ragged chunks of insulation. Despite the knee-high debris, Captain was able to clear a path to the back door of the restaurant by using the metal cart as a makeshift plow.

  John called out to him. “What did you throw at him back there? A packet of glitter?”

  “It wasn’t glitter. I took the top off of a salt shaker.”

  Madeline held a hand to her mouth and swept back a tear. The back half of the restaurant was the only part of the building left standing. John held her until she noticed that his elbow was skinned up and bleeding. Both of his arms were caked with dirt. Wincing, he pulled a sliver of glass out of his ring finger.

  “Are you okay?” She asked.

  “This is from Jared. Nice, huh?”

  “He followed us in?”

  “Almost. I tried to help him inside but all he wanted to do was fight.”

  Broken tree branches, downed electrical lines, shingles, scraps of insulation, and pieces of lumber littered the streets around them. To the north, John could not see a single building untouched by the fury of the wind. Like the restaurant, the town was a tale of two halves. From here it appeared parts of the northern half of the town were leveled and in places trees were stripped of their bark and branches. The southern half had homes that remained untouched. It was disorientating with the absence of street lights, street signs, or landmark trees to mark the way. Overhead, the sky was covered with sickly gray and pale yellow mammatus clouds.

  He then glanced over at his beloved truck, which only had one new dent on the driver’s side, but otherwise appeared to be intact. The rearview mirror on the driver’s side was long gone, of course, and the windshield looked like it nee
ded to be kicked out just so he would be able to see the road. The launcher in the bed of the truck was nowhere to be found. He looked toward the front of the restaurant where Jared last stood but he saw nothing but overturned tables and shredded canvas umbrellas. In the parking lot, Jared’s truck was missing, too. His stomach rolled.

  “Let’s go find your mom,” he said as he tugged on Madeline’s hand.

  Madeline only nodded as she swept another tear away from her eye. Captain soon joined them and together the three of them drove off in John’s truck back toward Evelyn’s house. About a block down the street, John spotted the remnants of Jared’s Jeep, upside down and mangled in the skeleton of a large elm tree. Captain rolled down his window to get a better look but said nothing. He looked back at John and Madeline with remorse in his eyes until he wiped the salt from his hands.

  * * *

  Although the trip to Evelyn’s house was short, it was slowed by debris in the streets. More than once, Captain got out and hauled tree limbs to the curb. Several buildings they passed had exposed rafters that looked like skeletons and an orange detour sign was driven into the ground like a tombstone. When they arrived at Evelyn’s house, John was relieved to find her home had only a few shingles missing. Her two maple trees in the front yard did not survive and were uprooted like weeds tossed aside by a determined gardener.

  Before John stopped the truck completely, Madeline leapt out and ran up to her mother’s front door. Seconds after pounding on the door, her mother answered. He rolled down his window to listen.

  “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Madeline scolded her.

  “I didn’t know you were calling. Maybe my cat knocked the phone off the hook. Are you okay? You look shaken.”

  The two embraced for a minute. “I thought you were going to the picnic,” Madeline said.

  “I thought about it, but my stomach acted up again. Up until a few minutes ago. Now it’s okay.”

  “Mom, go to the doctor.”

  “I will. I will.” Evelyn stepped out onto her lawn and put a hand to her mouth as she surveyed the yard. She shook her head and said something John could not understand.

  The two embraced again and Evelyn waved at John and Captain in the truck. When Madeline returned she had a look of relief and mild irritation. Once inside, she started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” John asked.

  “She stayed home because of her stomach. It didn’t let up until the storm passed. I still told her to go to the doctor.”

  Captain gave John a bewildered look.

  “If your Mom is okay, maybe we should check on that picnic of yours,” John said as he backed out of the driveway. His side ached from where he was kicked in the ribs but at least his elbow stopped bleeding.

  As they approached the park, he found it impossible to get closer than five hundred feet to the park’s entrance. Several police cars, a fire truck, and a pair of ambulances blocked the road. Other cars that were once parked alongside the road or in the parking lot were overturned or had tree trunks on them that crushed their roofs in. Madeline said little as she sat in the back of the truck. More than once, she swept back a tear.

  “We’re not going to be able to get through,” John said. His voice was filled with resignation and a sense of defeat.

  “I know,” she said in a solemn voice. “Take me home. If I still have a home. Please.”

  John turned the truck around. The trip to her apartment building was treacherous at best and involved a zigzag course around downed power lines, stray appliances in the middle of the street, and the crumpled awning of a nearby Shell gas station. As he turned down the block toward her apartment, he noticed a white-haired woman sweeping debris out of her driveway. Her home was intact, with only a broken window, and her car had a tree limb on the hood. Her neighbors’ homes were not as fortunate as one had a roof missing and another had several missing walls. The woman did not look at them. She instead focused on pushing the broom across the driveway in a rhythmic motion.

  A pickup truck in front of them shoved debris out of the way with a snowplow blade. When they arrived at the apartment building, John let out a sigh of relief. Although only a couple of windows were missing, the two buildings of the complex seemed untouched.

  “Oh, thank God,” Madeline said suddenly as John parked his truck. She climbed out immediately and started to walk toward the security entrance.

  “Do you want us to wait here while you check on things?” John said.

  She shook her head no.

  “I don’t think you should be alone.”

  Madeline gave him a warm smile, the first he had seen on her face all day. “I’ll call you. Promise.”

  “What if your phone doesn’t work?”

  She held it up. “It seems to be working now.”

  John agreed but did not want to leave her side. If there was any chance that Jared survived, it was possible he could still try to track her down. He let out another sigh, shook his head, and drove off.

  * * *

  As John and Captain inched their way through the town one fact became clear: the twister steamrolled the northern side of town with the center of the damage occurring along Main Street, which was the primary west-to-east road through the town. All roads in that area were nearly impassible. Captain folded up his laptop and set it into the backseat. “I say we just pick a neighborhood and go.”

  John drove back toward the restaurant that was their place of refuge over the past hour. As they passed Second Avenue, he glanced down the street to see if the Spirit of Grace church survived. To his surprise, the upper half of the church was missing. Chairs were strewn about, the video screens were gone, and the stage became a makeshift altar covered with a sacrifice of brick and stained glass. Black smoke rose up from where the kitchen used to be. Yet instead of feeling satisfaction he felt a sense of emptiness and confusion.

  Captain pointed across the street to a white-and-blue rambler with a missing roof and a crushed gray Toyota Camry in the driveway. John pulled over and turned off his truck. As they stepped out, a jade-green minivan pulled up behind them. The doors of the minivan slid open and a ragtag bunch of guys of all shapes and sizes climbed out. He glanced over at the side of the minivan and read the words “St. Mark’s Church, Flatfoot, Iowa” to himself. A smile broke across his face because he knew it was the church that Janet once attended. He wondered if anybody from Ingot would drop by to help.

  As John crossed the front lawn of the house, he was overwhelmed by the immensity of the damage. Trees were stripped down to white stumps, fire hydrants hissed, and every front yard was filled with books, toys, lumber, and broken furniture. It was as if the private lives of many had been turned inside out in seconds. The odor of turned earth, wet drywall, and natural gas hung in the air like a tenacious fog. When Captain reached the living room window he yelled to see if anybody needed help.

  “We’re okay,” yelled a woman from the next door neighbor’s house. “But we could use your strength over here.”

  John and Captain sprinted to the neighboring house where a man was trapped. Once they cleared a path through his lawn, they climbed in through a broken window to assess the situation. John first checked a bedroom, but only found a bed with untouched linens and an undisturbed bookcase. Next, he ducked into the living room. Shredded curtains, smashed lamps, and overturned furniture blocked the way, but he wrestled it all aside. At one point, he found an end table with an open book on it. Out of curiosity, he picked the book up and a phrase jumped out at him: “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.”

  He set the book back down at the sound of shouts coming from another part of the house. Then he spotted an olive-green couch blocking the basement stairwell.

  John called out for some rope and Captain ran back to the truck to find some. They then threw aside the rain-drenched cushions and tied the rope around the mid-section of the couch. With a half dozen people pulling, they were able to drag the cou
ch out of the way. A man in his mid-seventies stood at the bottom of the stairwell and gave them a confused smile. As they helped him upstairs to safety, the smile turned to complete disorientation.

  “Where’s Amanda?” He asked in a gravelly voice.

  “She’s okay. We brought her over to our house,” a neighbor said. The couple reunited and John looked over at Captain.

  Just as they moved on to the next house down the street, John’s cell phone rang. It was Madeline.

  “Where are you?” She said in a tender voice.

  “We’re walking through the neighborhoods. We’re over near Second and Main. Want me to come and get you?”

  “No. I’ll find you. I want to help, too.”

  “Okay, but this is going to be a lot to handle. Wait until you see your church.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

  He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his muddied hand. “It’s gone. Hope no one was inside.”

  After the call ended, they moved on to the next house in line where a family of four stood on the front lawn in bewilderment, but otherwise seemed okay. John looked over his elbows and then at his hands. Despite his growing physical and mental exhaustion, he was thankful for his life, his health, and the nail marks Madeline left in the palms of his hands.

  Chapter Twenty

  John stopped in the tiny parking lot at the entrance to St. James’ cemetery and waited. The cemetery was two miles north of Wick and surrounded by a black iron fence and several towering oak trees. The entrance was designated by two immense brick columns and a pair of open wrought-iron gates. Even with the passing of the recent storm, the grounds remained undisturbed. As the morning fog shifted around the area, pale yellow sunlight struggled to shine though. A hawk sat on top of one of the brick columns and stared in at the tombstones below.