She was thrown into the air, flying through it as if she were no more consequential than a leaf dropped from a nearby tree. She felt herself falling, falling, unable to grab the stalks near her because suddenly they were gone. Her mind tried to comprehend that and couldn’t.
Three thoughts flashed through her mind in the space of a single breath.
The first was that the tornado had indeed come early.
This thought was quickly followed with Mammi’s assurance that “Gotte will always care for His children.”
And last, it occurred to her that she wanted to see her parents one more time.
CHAPTER 18
Jacob and Samuel had shut down the tractor and were walking toward the house from the field they had been harvesting. Suddenly Samuel stopped, turned toward the west, and his mouth fell open. Jacob’s heart rate kicked up a notch at the expression on the older man’s face, but he still didn’t understand the danger. He still hadn’t looked toward the sky.
“Get to the cellar!” Samuel grabbed Jacob by the shoulders and pushed his face close, but still his words were barely discernible. “Behind the house. Go!”
Samuel turned without another word of explanation and ran toward the front porch. He left Jacob to gape at the black, churning funnel cloud barreling toward them. Even as Jacob watched, it dipped down from the sky and devoured everything in its path.
He started after Samuel, but a cry over the noise of the storm stopped him. The sound was not from the girl, but from the horses. Was Anna still outside? Was she trying to steer the team? He ran toward the maze, or what had been the maze when he’d arrived a few hours earlier. As the tornado bore down on him, Jacob stumbled to his knees and slapped his hands over his ears. He had to silence the howl of the twister or surely his eardrums would burst. As he crouched in the dirt, the team appeared out of the darkness—running wildly, eyes flashing, heads tossing. He barely had time to roll out of the way as the workhorses tore past him. The rigging between the wagon and the harvester was damaged and the harvester jostled left, then right, and finally broke free. It occurred to Jacob that the severed hitch probably saved the horses. If the connection between the harvester and wagon had held, they would have been pulled over with the harvester, which now lay on its side.
But where was Anna?
He ran in the direction the horses had come from, down a strip of field that was now without any crop. He prayed as he ran, his mind repeating over and over, “Please, Gotte. Please.” The fear in his heart could find no other words, and his mind was as chaotic as the scene around him.
Part of the maze had been harvested. Another part had been ripped away, leaving a cleared field. The terrible howl had stopped and now a gentle rain fell. No lightning. No thunder. Only a path of destruction and silence. Suddenly he saw her up ahead and to the right. She was lying on the ground—lifeless and still.
He ran, stumbled, struggled to his feet, and ran some more. It seemed to take an eternity to reach her side. Jacob’s hands trembled as he knelt beside her.
From the angle of her body, he could tell that something was terribly wrong. He placed his hand on her neck to check her pulse, a procedure he had read about in a first aid book he’d picked up in Ohio.
She was unconscious but still breathing.
“Please save her, Gotte. Don’t let her die. Not today. Not here, like this.”
The prayer sprang from his heart with the same intensity as the stalks of corn had been ripped from the field. The words flowed from him as he unpinned the collar of her dress and again put his fingers to the side of her neck.
Still breathing, but if anything she looked worse to him.
Her skin was unnaturally pale, and she hadn’t moved.
Should he stay or go for help?
Suddenly a horrendous popping sound assaulted his ears, and a second tornado barreled down on them, dipped, and sucked up what remained of Samuel’s corn.
Jacob threw his body over Anna to protect her from the violence of the funnel cloud. As suddenly as it dipped down upon them, it vanished, leaving a completely cleared field without a single stalk of corn in it.
He didn’t know how much time passed as he knelt beside her, praying and watching the sky for signs of any additional twisters. Suddenly he was aware of Samuel and Erin calling, frantically searching for them.
He released Anna’s hand, which he had been clutching. Standing in the muddy, barren field, he waved and jumped and screamed for their help.
Erin saw him first and began running in his direction.
Samuel wasn’t far behind, and in the distance Jacob could see Anna’s grandmother hobbling down off the porch.
“Anna!” The agony of Erin’s voice would follow Jacob the rest of his life.
Erin threw herself on the ground at Anna’s side, sobbing and crying out in German. Jacob caught the words “mercy” and “Gotte” and “please, please, Lord” as he turned to Samuel.
The man’s face was a ghastly white. “Is she—”
“Nein. But we can’t move her. Do you have a phone? In your barn?”
Samuel shook his head. “Next door. There’s a phone shack next to the road.”
“Which direction?”
Samuel pointed in the opposite direction from Bishop Levi’s place. “I’ll go,” he said, but Jacob reached out to stop him.
If Anna died, she should do so surrounded by her family, not with a stranger at her side.
“Nein. Stay with your wife and Anna. Don’t move her. She’s breathing, but something’s… something’s wrong. If she wakes, keep her still.” Then he was gone, running faster than he ever had before, praying help would arrive in time. As he ran, he petitioned God for this family he barely knew, aware that his prayers were echoing Erin’s as she knelt in the mud beside her niece.
CHAPTER 19
Jacob stood next to Anna’s grandmother, and together they watched the medical personnel work on the young woman. The run to the phone shack and back had taken less than twenty minutes. In that time, Anna still hadn’t moved. She hadn’t awakened at all. The neighbors began showing up, Bishop Levi and others whom Jacob didn’t know.
An ambulance had dashed down the lane, lights flashing and siren wailing, coming to a stop next to where the small group was assembled. A middle-aged woman with red hair stepped out, followed by a younger man who looked to be about Jacob’s age. She took one look, muttered, “Don’t move her,” and ducked back into the vehicle. When she stepped back out, she walked straight to Anna and knelt beside her, slipping a large plastic collar around her neck.
“Has she spoken?”
Samuel merely shook his head, which the woman couldn’t see, so she barked the question again.
“Nein.” Jacob stepped forward. “She hasn’t moved at all.”
“Who found her?”
“I did.”
“How long ago?”
Jacob had no idea, so he didn’t answer.
This time the woman turned her head and met his gaze with a look of understanding and compassion. “My name is Brenda, and I want to help your—”
“Friend.” Jacob began to shake. He crossed his arms in an attempt to still the tremors. “Anna is my friend.”
“I need to know whatever you know. How long ago did it happen?”
“Maybe thirty minutes.”
“And she hasn’t spoken or moved at all?”
“Not a word, and I was afraid to move her.”
“You did well. In fact, you may have saved her life.” Brenda pulled a radio off her belt and pushed the button. “Unit seventeen.”
“Go ahead.” The dispatcher was male and sounded as if he were standing in the field with them.
“We have a twenty-five-year-old female…”
“Twenty-four.” Erin’s words shook and trembled. Samuel had pulled her away when the medical personnel arrived. Otherwise, she’d still be clinging to Anna. “She’s only twenty-four.”
“She’s waking up.” The young
man was on the right side of Anna and the woman on the left.
Jacob couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Erin had thrown herself down at the girl’s head and was once more praying.
“Ma’am, I need you to give us some room.”
Samuel again pulled Erin away. She turned to him and collapsed in his arms, sobbing and praying and hiding her face.
“Anna, try not to move. We’re here to help you.”
“My neck… it hurts.” Anna’s voice was weak, and Jacob had to lean closer to hear. A little color had returned to her face, and her eyes were darting left and then right but focusing on nothing. “Why can’t I move my head?”
“We have a collar on you to keep your neck in one position. I want you to hold very still for me.” Brenda didn’t look at the other paramedic but began barking orders as she continued to examine Anna for other injuries. “In-line spinal stabilization. I want it started now, and bring me a splint for her leg.”
She’d finished her preliminary exam and took a moment to listen to Anna’s breathing with her stethoscope. Replacing the instrument around her neck, she asked, “Can you squeeze my hand, Anna?”
“Ya. I think so.”
Jacob realized now what his mind had blocked out earlier. Her legs were splayed out awkwardly, unnaturally.
“We need to move your legs, Anna. It may hurt. I want you to keep your eyes on Charlie and let him know if the pain is too much.”
Anna nodded as tears began to stream down her face. “What’s wrong with me? Why does my head hurt so?”
“We’re going to give you something for that, but I need to be sure there are no fractures first.” Brenda was already moving and straightening her legs.
Anna never complained at all. Jacob was watching her closely, and she didn’t so much as flinch as the paramedics went about their work.
Brenda again pulled her radio. “This is unit seventeen.”
“Go ahead, seventeen.”
“We have a twenty-four-year-old female with a possible SCI and multiple contusions. The patient is alert and responding to questions. I’m requesting a med-vac stat.”
“I have your location, seventeen. Hold please while I contact Tulsa.” The voice came back in less than a minute. “Med-vac is on its way. ETA twenty minutes.”
Brenda looked around until she spotted Jacob. Standing, she walked over to him. “I need you to come and talk to her until her mother—”
“Aenti.”
“All right, until her aenti calms down. We want to keep her alert and responsive. Can you help me with that?”
Jacob nodded and tried to swallow, but his throat felt as if he’d drank a glass of sand. The rain was still falling, and he had the strange thought to tilt his head back and let the drops moisten his mouth. Instead, he swiped a hand across his face and moved to kneel beside a girl he had known for less than forty-eight hours.
“Hi, Anna.”
“Jacob. What happened?”
He looked to Brenda for permission to share about the tornado, but she shook her head. She helped Charlie to start an IV in Anna’s arm and was again checking her breathing.
“Had an accident, is all. You’re going to be okay.” He prayed those words were true as soon as they had slipped off his tongue.
“Aenti and Onkel?”
“They’re here.” He glanced over toward the couple. Erin seemed to be pulling herself together, and Samuel’s color was some better. They both hovered close, but Anna couldn’t see them with the brace on her neck. She could only see what was directly in front of her, which at the moment was Jacob.
“I remember harvesting the corn, the storm, and then… then the horses running. I couldn’t hold them.”
“You did well. The horses are fine.”
“Ya?”
“Sure. The harvester is broken, but it was old anyway.”
Erin pulled away from Samuel and sank down in the mud next to Jacob.
“Anna, are you okay? Are you hurting?”
“Only my head. Did I bump it?”
Instead of answering, Jacob said, “The paramedics are taking gut care of you.”
“Will you hold my hand? I’m scared.”
He reached for her hand, which seemed impossibly small and fragile. Now her grandmother knelt with them so that they made a sort of circle around the top of Anna’s head.
“Mammi—”
“Don’t worry, child. Gotte is going to take gut care of you.” She reached out a hand covered in wrinkles and spots. Her fingers caressed Anna’s face. “He is your rock and your fortress. He is your deliverer, child—your Gotte and your strength. You can trust in Him.”
As she’d spoken the verse from the book of Psalms, Anna had closed her eyes, and it seemed she must have drifted off to sleep. Jacob was glad for that because the fear in her eyes had torn at his heart. He’d been afraid he might break down and weep. He didn’t mind crying in front of others, but he didn’t want to frighten Anna more.
Then he remembered he was supposed to be keeping her alert and responsive. “Anna. Look at me, Anna.”
She opened her eyes and glanced left and then right without moving her head. “You won’t leave me, will you?”
“Nein. I’ll stay right here, but you need to keep awake.”
Mammi continued to quote the Psalms, softly and tenderly. Behind them, Bishop Levi was leading those who were standing around in prayer. Jacob thought he heard weeping, but he couldn’t be sure from whom. Brenda and Charlie continued to monitor her condition.
When they heard the thump, thump, thump of a helicopter, Brenda nodded toward the ambulance and told Charlie to “get the backboard.”
The family was moved out of the way as Anna was surrounded by medical personnel. Four paramedics transferred her to the backboard and placed the board on a gurney that they wheeled to the waiting helicopter.
“I want to go with her,” Erin said.
“You may ride in the helicopter with her.” Brenda stepped closer to Erin. “But you have to leave now. There’s no time to go to your house for clothes or your purse. It might be better to—”
But Erin was already running toward the chopper. One of the paramedics reached down to help her up. For a moment, it looked as if her feet would tangle in her long, dark dress, but she jerked the fabric tighter around her legs and scrambled aboard.
A few moments later the helicopter rose into the sky, and then it was gone.
Jacob wondered what they should do next. How many other farms had been hit? Were there other injuries?
Samuel had moved to the side, halfway between the ambulance and where the helicopter had been. He stood alone, his shoulders bowed as if from the enormous burden that had been placed there.
While Jacob wondered if perhaps they should have one of the emergency workers look at him, Samuel squared his shoulders and turned toward them. His face was grim, but his color was better than it had been.
“I’ll need your help, Jacob.”
“Of course.”
“First we find the horses. Then we find a way to the hospital.”
“I’ll take care of a driver, Samuel.” Bishop Levi stepped forward. “The horses will respond better to you, and it looks as if your home and outbuildings weren’t damaged. Put them in the barn.”
“I can check on them morning and night, Samuel.” This from an older Amish man Jacob hadn’t met yet.
The bishop nodded in approval. “By the time you’re done, we’ll have a car here to drive you to Tulsa.”
“I’ll go inside and pack Erin and Anna a bag.” Mammi waved away the bishop’s offer of help. “Go and find that ride, Levi. I’m fine.”
Jacob stared out over the destruction. He’d seen pictures of tornadoes and their path of devastation before—once or twice he’d read articles about such an event in the newspaper, and one of the books he had borrowed described tornadoes in the Midwest. Always they spoke of collapsed buildings and piles of debris. That wasn’t what he was looking at.
>
Samuel’s fields were clear as far as the eye could see. It was as if the tornado had whisked everything up but set nothing back down. “The horses were headed to the east last I saw them.”
They were walking toward the barn when Samuel stopped, turned, and went back to Brenda and Charlie, who were packing up their equipment.
“Danki for your help. For arriving so fast and helping with my niece.”
Brenda reached out and touched his arm. “You don’t have to thank us, Mr. Schwartz. It’s our job.”
“But you did it with kindness and compassion.” Samuel stared at the ground when he added, “If you would give the bishop directions as to where we should go, I would appreciate it. I… I want to be there with my family.”
“Of course.” Brenda pulled out a pad of paper and wrote down the name and address of the hospital.
Samuel nodded once to Jacob, and they left the little crowd behind. Would the neighbors go in search of Samuel’s crops? But they could have been carried miles away. Perhaps they would check the surrounding farms to be sure no one else was hurt. Jacob had never been through anything remotely similar to this before. As they hurried in the direction of the barn, moving across the barren fields, it occurred to him that soon he would be leaving. There was no harvesting left to do. The work crew wouldn’t be needed and neither would he.
CHAPTER 20
Chloe was working on a story about the increased use of fracking to extract natural gas in the area when Eric appeared in the doorway to her cubicle. The expression on his face told her something was up. Eric had a police scanner in his office as well as a CB radio. He kept them both on all the time. Often he had reporters at crime scenes or accidents before emergency personnel managed to arrive. For Eric, it was all about the thrill of the hunt—always the never-ending search—for more and faster and better news. Turning to study him, Chloe realized that today his expression was an odd mixture of excitement and compassion.
Compassion? From Eric?
“What’s up?”
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