Heart of Texas

by Kirk Haggerty

  “It’s an SUV?” I asked, looking at the hulking black truck with the typical American features of ‘bigger is better.' It looked like the US Marines could storm out of the back of the vehicle at any time.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

  “I won’t even ask how much gas it guzzles.”

  “Yeah, let’s not talk about it. Makes me a poor man just thinkin’ of it.”

  “You’ve modified it for the measuring devices, I see.”

  “Yes. Right now the back of the vehicle is empty. The electronics are stored in those roadie boxes in the corner. When I get a call about a tornado warning I notify my team and we can install all the gear in the SUV within an hour, including the antennas and Doppler-radar dish on the roof.”

  “Who’s on your team?”

  “I got seven men from the police and fire department with years of experience. Got some volunteers from the local college and National Guard too. My son Billy-Bob is also with us. We got three vehicles altogether.” Herbie opened a locker door and pulled out a large video camera, like the type in a television studio. “Have you ever worked with one of these?” Herbie offered it to me like a Christmas present.

  I smiled and took it in his hands. “Yes, in college, in media class. They’re a lot of fun to work with.” I mounted the camera on my shoulder and adjusted the lens.

  “You look like a natural,” Herbie said. “We’re gonna need a good camera man.”

  After 11:00 PM, the Mott family retired to bed and wished me a good night. I retired to the guest room to get ready myself. The latest news on local TV included a possible tornado warning for the next twelve hours for the entire Texas Panhandle region. Herbie warned me that I may have to get up early to prepare for a possible chase. As I got under the covers, I got an SMS from my mother.

  I hope you’ll be safe with this crazy storm chasing thing.

  I wrote back, saying that everything was going to be fine.

  A few minutes later I got a surprise SMS from Karen.

  I’m worried about you, Daniel. It’s already raining hard in Hamilton. I’m sorry for hanging up on you. Please get back with me.

  Wow, she misses me. I called her back.

  “I’m fine, Karen. I’m staying at Mr. Mott’s place. He’s got a nice family and I’m learning so much already. You won’t believe it, but he's already tracked a storm coming our way.”

  “You’re hoping to find a tornado and take pictures of it?” Karen asked.

  “Amazing, isn't it? I’ll be sitting next to one of the best storm chasers in the U.S. He’s a smart old fox, so he’ll make sure we don’t get into any real danger.”

  “Daniel, I’m sorry for hanging up on you. That’s not like me.”

  “It’s all right, Karen. I’m just as shocked about my boss’ behavior as you are. Look, we’ll talk about it when I get back.”

  “I sent my mom to the bookshop to see if everything was fine. It looked like Thomas had no major problems. I’m going to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow morning and I’m heading over there to give him a hand.”

  “Are you well enough?”

  “Yes, I’m bored now. I want to get out of here.”

  I yawned and was losing my concentration. “It’s late and we all need to get some sleep.”

  I heard Karen sigh. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Tornadoes can kill, Daniel.”

  “We’re taking every precaution. Everything is going to be just fine.”

  “Please call me when you have a chance.”

  “I will, I promise. You get some sleep.”

  “OK, good night.”

  This time we hung up our phones like civilized people. But still I wondered how this was going to work out in the end.

  It must have been around 6:30 in the morning when I heard a siren screeching across the city; almost like a London Blitz siren from those WWII movies. I hoped it was all a dream and hugged my pillow as if it was Karen’s soft body wanting to cuddle up with me. A moment later I heard someone run into Herbie’s office, which was followed up by the chirping noises of a ham radio. I wasn’t able to make out the static-like sounds of someone talking through loudspeakers. Then I heard the knocking on my door.

  Herbie poked his head through the door. “Sorry for waking you, Daniel, but it looks like you got your dream shot.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “You mean …”

  “Look out your window.”

  I rose out of bed. Through the white lace curtain I saw the buildings of downtown Wichita Falls looking south. Beyond loomed massive dark clouds towering high and moving fast in the grey morning light.

  “How much time before it hits us?”

  “A few minutes. Can you help me and Billy-Bob load the truck?”

  Chapter Eleven

  We dressed and worked fast in the garage. The three of us were mounting the antennas on the SUV when we saw someone drive up to the house in a modified jeep. The sky already hid the morning sun with dark clouds, howling winds and biting rain. The driver poked his head out of his window to greet Mott.

  “Just got here from the campus dorm, Herbie,” said the driver.

  “Morning Marty. Where’s J.D. this morning?” Mott asked.

  “Sick with a cold.”

  Herbie turned to his son, “Billy-Bob, you drive the jeep while Marty does the tracking on the computers.” He then spoke to Marty. “I’m bringing a guest reporter with me who’ll do the video. I’ll pick up Garrett at his house as soon as we’re done here. We’ll meet up with Johnny’s truck at the meeting point.”

  “And where would that be?” Marty asked.

  “We’re taking the I-44 to the Oklahoma state line. The tornado will most likely form there.”

  As soon as Marty and Billy-Bob took off together I asked Herbie, “How do you know the tornado will form at the state line?”

  Herbie was making a final adjustment on the radar device and answered, “I’ll tell you when we start driving.”

  When he finished, Herbie opened a locker and pulled out some rain ponchos. After donning the plastic barrier around my upper body, I hopped in and sat next to Herbie as he started the ignition. The dashboard devices flickered on and the radio began to squelch. The window wipers flapped their tempo as we left the garage for our morning adventure.

  The front dash held a flat computer that could change to GPS street mapping, Doppler-Radar mapping or NOAA satellite tracking with the touch of a finger on the screen. Beneath the computer screen were several radios stacked together. The windshield wipers were working overtime in the sudden downpour.

  Herbie explained to me, “There was a tornado alert this morning from the local weather service. Some amateur chasers outside of Fort Worth saw visible rotation in clouds and some other phenomena that can lead to funnel formation. That’s why I believe a tornado will be imminent near the state line.”

  “So it won’t strike Wichita Falls?”

  “No. The storm already crossed Central Texas during the night and has just now reached our area, still sucking in moisture.” Herbie touched the screen to show me a live satellite weather map of Northern Texas. “The storm front’s passing over us right now as we speak, heading north-east.” He touched the screen again to show Doppler-radar. Instead of grey clouds over a dark landmass, I now saw color-coded blocks and stripes, with a black dot near the middle.

  “The black dot is us,” Herbie explained. “To the left and right we can see the storm moving. The red section is where the storm is most intensive. We can also measure its speed. It looks to me like the storm is slowing down and will reach Oklahoma.”

  I pointed to the digital map where the colors were red. “And you think a tornado will form somewhere over there?”

  “That’s my gut feeling, Daniel.” Herbie turned off the main road and entered a street with a few simple houses.

  “You said we’re picking up someone?” I asked.

  “Garrett, our communications expert. We�
��re almost there. I need to ask you to get in the back with the cameras when we stop, if you don’t mind.”

  The SUV pulled over near a wooden house where a taller man, also wearing a rain poncho, waited. Daniel got out and held the door open for the new arrival.

  “Howdy. Do I know you?” he asked.

  “Daniel Preis, I’m a journalist.” They shook hands.

  “Get in, Garrett,” said Herbie.

  I squeezed myself into the back seat, which was already crowded with the bulky video camera and other gadgetry. Herbie drove as fast as he could in the rain and entered I-44 on ramp. There were few cars at this hour.

  Garrett turned his shoulder to look at me. “Sorry about that, but you can still enjoy the ride from back there?”

  “No problem.”

  Garrett switched on a channel on the police radio. “Sheriff, are you there? Garrett here. Sorry for being on the police frequency, but just wanted to say that we’re now off storm-chasing. We’re on the I-44 north with Herbie driving. It’s pretty quiet at the moment.”

  The radio crackled back, “I copy, Garrett. But I’m also getting a stand-by signal, so try the VHF public band at one sixty-two point five-five-zero megahertz. And stay off my line unless it’s an emergency, or I’ll haul your ass. Over.” Static ended the announcement.

  “I copy, Sheriff. One sixty-two point five-five-zero megahertz. Out.”

  “What frequency is that?” I asked.

  Garett turned to me and said, “The NOAA weather radio channel.”

  “Is it illegal to have police radios?” Although I had a feeling I knew the answer. Herbie and Garrett laughed. “Well, yes, sort of,” answered Garrett.

  “But every storm chaser worth his salt has one,” said Herbie.

  The men remained silent for a while. Despite the torrential rain Herbie drove in the fast lane but could only get up to 65 mph for fear of aquaplaning. Trucks on the opposite side of the turnpike would pass by, splashing a wave of rainwater on the windshield. An occasional flash of lightning from a distance broke the monotony.

  “Are the others on their way?” Garrett asked Herbie, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, we’re meeting up at the truck stop at Burkburnett.”

  The static sound of a voice on the CB radio caught our attention. “Breaker one-nine. Maxi-Jay at your back door. You must be a Twister Tracker with all those antlers and base drums on your roof.”

  Herbie tried to look at his rear-view mirror. “Move over Daniel, I can’t see.” I did the best as I could without breaking anything: Herbie turned his head and saw a large transport truck almost behind us, flashing his high beams.

  “What an asshole,” Herbie said. He grabbed the microphone from Garrett’s hand and spoke, “No shit, Sherlock. Herbie the Chaser is my handle. Am I going too slow for you in this storm, or are you on a suicide mission?”

  “Just passing through after getting some sweet lizard-skin from Cow Town.”

  “Then don’t let me stop you from indulging,” Herbie said and moved the SUV onto the slower lane, allowing the big rig to pass us, before we returned to the fast lane. “By the way, Maxi-Jay, if you happen to hear of any Bogies, A.K.A tornadoes further north, come back to me. Don’t forget to give me your ten-twenty. Meanwhile I’m meetin’ up with my team at the choke and puke at the next stop.”

  “Ten-four, Herbie the Chaser. On my way to Chi-Town, but if I see any Wicked Witches of the West I’ll come back to ya’. Over and out.”

  Herbie gave the mic back to Garrett. “Sorry ‘bout that, but the guy pissed me off.”

  “What sort of language were you talking then?” I asked.

  Herbie laughed. “That’s CB slang, Daniel. It was big in the 70’s and 80’s, but with the advent of cell phones and satellite radios, it lost popularity.”

  “So who uses it today?”

  “Mostly long-distance truck drivers, like that guy. Left Fort Worth this morning and is hauling goods to Chicago.”

  “After getting some lizard skin the night before,” said Garrett, who winked to me.

  Hard to imagine that lizards could be anything but sexy, if that was the term used for prostitutes. The satellite radio interrupted my thoughts with three loud beeps.

  “I got something at one sixty-two point five-five-zero megahertz,” said Garrett.

  “Turn it up, so Daniel can hear it,” answered Herbie. Three loud beeps pierced the interior of the SUV from the loudspeaker.

  “The National Weather Service in Fort Worth has issued a tornado warning for: Archer County, Clay County and Wichita County until noon Central Daylight Time. National Service Doppler-radar indicates powerful thunderstorms capable of producing a tornado, moving north-east at forty-five miles per hour. Locations in danger include: the Wichita Falls area including Burkburnett, Sheppard Air Force Base, and the communities of Electra, Iowa Park, Perkins Scout Reservation, Petrolia, Byers, and Henrietta. This warning also includes the Red River regions along the Oklahoma state line, with areas around Temple, Oklahoma and Waurika, Oklahoma. Residents in these areas are asked to take cover now. Leave mobile homes and vehicles. If possible, move to a basement or storm shelter. Otherwise move to an interior room or hallway towards the floor. Stay away from windows and outside walls.”

  The three loud beeps were repeated, indicating end of announcement.

  “We’re almost at Burkburnett now,” Herbie said. A moment later, the SUV left the turnpike and entered the parking lot of a truck stop. Herbie drove as close as possible to the main doors of the diner, where the team had agreed to meet. Near the front doors, parked illegally, were the heavy jeep I saw earlier and a pick-up, both mounted with antennas and equipment. I noticed Billy-Bob and Marty coming out of the diner with cups of coffee. Herbie, Garett and I got out of the SUV as well. It was good to get out and stretch my legs.

  “How’s it going, Johnny?” Herbie asked the driver of the pick-up truck.

  “Fine morning for a chase, boss,” Johnny answered.

  “This is Daniel, a journalist from Boston. He’ll accompany me.”

  “A pleasure,” Johnny said and shook my hand. The others shook my hand too, one after the other. Six men and one woman huddled up in front of the diner door, under a low roof for protection from the wind and rain – all wearing ponchos.

  “Who’s this?” Herbie asked Johnny, indicating the woman.

  “My girlfriend. She’s joining me on the chase.”

  Mott coughed “Nothing personal, ma’am, but most women I know get hysterical when they see a tornado.”

  “We’ll manage it,” she said, putting an arm around Johnny.

  “Fine with me. Look folks, we just got the first tornado warning, a moment ago near the state line. If we hurry we can get there before the state police close the I-44. Are you ready?”

  The group responded with a loud, “Yes!”

  “Then let’s go. Billy-Bob, you take the lead, Johnny, you take the rear and watch your girlfriend’s back.” Herbie winked to her, as she blushed. We piled back into our respective vehicles and left the parking lot. It was now 8:30 AM.

  Within ten minutes the convoy of storm chasers crossed the Red River and entered Oklahoma. Not that there was anything to indicate it besides info from the GPS. It was too windy and rainy outside to see anything. The SUV got stuck between two slow big-rigs that were clogging both lanes. By the time Herbie could pass, he had lost sight of Billy-Bob in the jeep. Just before 8:45 the satellite radio beeped.

  “Pa, do you hear me?” Garrett turned up the loudspeakers for me to hear from the back seat.

  “Whatcha' got, Billy-Bob?” said Herbie.

  “There’s a police blockade diverting traffic at the 70. They’re pulling me over to the side.”

  “I’m coming to get ya, son.”

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Looks like some officers don’t like storm chasers. We’re goin’ to have to negotiate.” Did he mean bribery? A minute later, the SUV and Johnny’s pick-u
p were routed by the Oklahoma State Police to pull over at the crossing between the I-40 and US Highway 70.

  A trooper, wearing a Smoky the Bear hat and looking like a mean drill sergeant came up to Herbie at the driver’s window. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, mister?”

  Herbie remained cool. “If you’re referring to my antennas on the roof, it means that I’m trying to photograph a possible tornado for the press. I’ve got a journalist from Boston with me.”

  Oh, please, don’t include me in this. I thought.

  The trooper stared at Herbie, Garrett, then at me in the back seat. “Let me see your driver’s license. The man in the back seat should show me some ID.” Herbie pulled out his license from his back pocket while I fished for mine. I also took out my press badge – a couple times in Boston had a law enforcement officer asked for proof that I was a journalist for the press.

  The trooper examined the documents, then went to his squad car to check the computer.

  Garrett whispered to Herbie, “What a pig. We’re losing time.”

  “Hush up.”

  The officer came back and gave the documents back to us. “We got a new sheriff in this county, Mr. Mott. I know you’re good at your hobby, but my superior officer don’t like storm chasers. Thinks they’re a nuisance and threaten public safety …”

  “That’s not true,” Herbie retorted. “We bring a benefit to the community …”

  “Are you interrupting me, Mr. Mott?” asked the officer, who placed his hand on his holster.

  Herbie calmed down. “No, sir. May I ask a question?”

  “What?”

  “Has your new sheriff been sworn in yet?”

  The trooper paused for a moment. “No, I don’t think he has … one moment, if you don’t mind.” The officer returned to his car and spoke on the radio. A minute later he returned. “He’s being sworn in this afternoon, so the policy hasn’t been implemented yet. Sorry for any inconvenience and have a good day.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Herbie started the SUV again. All three vehicles in the storm-chasing fleet left the off-ramp and headed east on Highway 70. It was a long drive and at a slower pace. The wind and rain continued to hit us hard. We passed through the town of Waurika, population 2,064.