If the slight shift in the wind was right, she had to get home and check the weather models.
14
Their uncomfortable shuffling reverberated around the empty hall as they sat outside their professor’s office.
The bottom of Elaina’s sneakers squeaked on the linoleum as she swung her legs like a little kid.
Heath took several deep breaths, as if fueling up to say something, but the words never materialized, and his chest would deflate with an exhale.
The models were iffy on the chance of an outbreak that week, but she could feel it. Maybe much of the feeling was begging it to happen. She needed to see another tornado.
She needed to see if within it was another vision to tease forward anything that might be hiding in the depths of her memory.
Dr. Pierce would have to sign off on this chase, and with the computer models looking the way they did it would take some convincing.
Elaina looked at Heath from the corner of her eye. The muscle in his jaw flexed and he shifted his gaze in her direction. Dammit, this is ridiculous.
“Let’s pretend Saturday night never happened,” she said.
“Works for me,” he answered, his words tumbling out on top of hers. “But you do owe Chloe a pot of geraniums.”
“Guess regurgitated wine probably isn’t the best plant food,” Elaina mumbled.
The air between them loosened to companionable silence as they waited for their professor.
“Are you okay?” Heath asked, concern underscoring his words. “I’m serious, Elaina, you’ve been a little off for the past few weeks.” He shifted in his chair to face her. His lips were pressed into a firm line and eyebrows pulled so close it looked like a unibrow. “This isn’t like you.”
She smiled. Couldn’t disagree with him. She had been off. Maybe this was like her. The real her. The person who’d been washed away in a deluge of psychiatric drugs. Elaina shrugged, as much as an answer to her own questions as his. “It’s just all the pressure, I guess. But don’t worry, this weekend was a wake-up call. I’m fine.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but the squeak of Dr. Pierce’s wheels interrupted him.
As soon as he rounded the corner, their professor’s jaw jutted out, his lips stretched tight and his eyes narrowed. He pushed his chair forward with the force of someone in a race and skidded to a stop in front of his door. “Elaina, Heath,” he spoke to the door as he flipped through his keys. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”
They exchanged looks.
“What did you do?” Heath mouthed.
“Me?” Elaina silently asked before shaking her head.
Had Seth said something about her snarky Kegels comment? Even if he had, Dr. Pierce would’ve laughed, not condemned her for it. Or, had Harry reached out to him to express concern about her emotional wellbeing?
“Um, hi, Dr. Pierce, how are you?” Maybe friendly chitchat would melt away some of his iciness.
“I’m still in this godforsaken chair.” His tone was flat, despite the bite to his words. He wheeled behind his desk and turned to face them.
Elaina and Heath hesitated outside his office door. She didn’t want to be the first to enter, and apparently neither did her partner.
“I don’t have time for you two to stand out there like idiots. What?”
Heath’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Have you seen the models for later this week?” he asked, stepping forward into the dungeon of doom.
“Yes, typical spring forecast, something may happen, or it can be one hundred percent chance of boring blue sky.”
She stepped forward, joining her partner. “Well, sir, we believe there’s a strong possibility for an outbreak over the Oklahoma panhandle later this week. We would like to go out there now, to monitor the changes, see what we can get to further our hypothesis of tornado genesis.”
“And what if you’re wrong? What if the storms never happen? Or, the outbreak is over Arkansas?”
They exchanged glances.
Dr. Pierce had never questioned her instincts before. Quite the opposite, he always praised her. Said she had a sixth sense for storm prediction. That she knew what the storm was going to do before the storm did.
“We’re not,” Elaina said. “I’m not. It’s going to happen.”
Their advisor thumbed through the stack of papers on his desk and pulled out a sheet peppered with graphs and red marks. From where Elaina stood, it looked like a homework assignment from Meteorology 101.
“You’re running out of time and money.” Dr. Pierce sighed. “You can’t afford to make a bad call.”
She lifted her chin and widened her stance. There was nowhere she’d rather be than with her back up against the wall. Fighting for her place in the world, for the scholarships she secured for college, and now fighting for her career. She only knew how to fight. Sometimes she lost, but most of the time she won.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think that Dr. Pierce was intentionally stoking that fire.
Fine. A fight he wants, a fight he’ll get.
“When was the last time I made a bad call?” Elaina took a step toward the desk. She paused, giving him a second to answer, but he kept his eyes on his papers. “Exactly. So when I say storms are going to fire up out there, they are going to fire up.”
Heath froze beside her, a shallow gasp over her shoulder told her she’d gone further than he imagined.
Several seconds ticked by when the professor finally put the paper down and rested his elbows on the desk. “What exactly makes you so sure, Ms. Adams?” Even though his tone was condescending, there was enough of an undercurrent of belief to make Elaina smile.
She pulled her laptop out of her backpack and flipped it open, pulling up the weather models. “This frontal boundary is going to dip further south, and this low pressure system is going to shift west. Give it three days and they’re going to collide.” She hit play on the map she’d drawn up and it showed the bulls-eye for the outbreaks firmly planted in the middle of the panhandle.
Her heart blistered as her eyes traveled to the east of the storm system. If she was right, if the storms formed where she thought and traveled their normal northeast path, her mother’s house was right in the path. Her nose twitched, as if a sniffle threatened to escape.
Dr. Pierce studied the map while rubbing his chin. He took a deep breath and then reclined in his chair. For the first time since they’d arrived in his office, he looked at her directly. Strange shadows crossed his gray eyes in the low light of his office. It was a look of respect and envy, pride and punishment. “You keep an eye on the models.”
“We will,” Heath chimed in even though Dr. Pierce’s gaze was planted firmly on Elaina.
“The slightest variation suggesting a stabilizing atmosphere you get yourselves back here.”
“Yes, sir,” her partner agreed again.
Elaina crossed her arms. She wasn’t used to rules in a fight.
“This isn’t a game, Elaina. People get hurt out there. You are a scientist, not a thrill seeker. You gather data, you bring it back here and you analyze it.” Their advisor paused, narrowing his eyes before continuing. “Do you understand?”
Her muscles released. Of course he’d be worried about their safety, but why push them forward and suddenly pull them back?
“Yes, I understand,” her voice hardened, forming a tough outer shell to hide her true fears. Her fear that they’d get close to a tornado, and inside it would be another vision, another glimpse into something locked away in her mind. Inside this glimpse she might see something terrifying, something once brought to the surface would never again sink into oblivion.
Did she want to know? Was it worth taking the lid off the box? Elaina could look away, close her eyes.
But really, could she? Knowing what she knew, could she ever go back?
Could she forget what Harry had shared with her? Maybe try to re-write that memory herself, sans drugs, and just pretend it was
a nice-enough evening with a nice-enough guy.
“Good.”
Dr. Pierce stole her from her treacherous thoughts.
“You two get out of my office before I change my mind.”
“Thank you, sir, thank you,” Heath said, bowing slightly as he walked backwards out of the office.
Like kids escaping the last day of school, they sprinted down the hall and jogged down the stairs.
Her friend paused at the door, holding it closed, his brows drawn as tight as a stretched rubber band. “Are you sure about this?”
“Sure about what?” she panted.
“The models you drew up, they’re pretty far-fetched.” His lips were a thin line. “I mean, what if you’re wrong. What if nothing happens? We’re too close to make mistakes.”
His words hit her with the stinging force of freezing water. Heath had never questioned her predictions before. She was always right. She never made mistakes. Well, aside from a pot of drunken geraniums.
“Is this about the other night?” Elaina folded her arms across her chest. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about it. So I was nervous and drank too much.”
“And interrogated Chloe’s colleague about weird experimental drugs.” Her partner’s face softened. “Elaina, I know you well enough to know when something’s wrong. What’s wrong?”
She nibbled on her lower lip. What could she tell him? That she might have had a flash of a repressed memory brought on by a close call with a twister, and during her blind date when he spoke about his research something felt…right?
Heath had put so much faith in her. Faith that her dedication to their field would earn them their doctorates. Faith that her natural talent would carry them through even the most wild predictions. Faith that she had his back.
She pushed past him, popping open the door and escaping his doubt.
Heath’s faith in her wasn’t broken, but there was definitely a crack.
15
The highway whizzed by under Seth’s Forecast Channel Hummer. His heart synced with the dashed yellow line. Pump. Pause. Pump. Pause. Always up for an adventure, his life on the road was turning out to follow the same rhythm as the lines. Action. Pause. Action. Pause.
He’d been hoping to add another variable to the equation when he went back to interview Tom Pierce. Even if he had to subject himself to another hour of Elaina’s sharp tongue, it’d be worth it for the entertainment value alone.
Seth had a month’s worth of witty retorts ready to lob in her direction. He kept his eyes peeled for her brunette curls, but the petite storm chaser was as elusive as a rainbow on a cloudless, sunny day. The professor’s words had floated by his head, thoughts of Elaina’s smile and dark green eyes kicked everything else out of his brain.
It wasn’t until the interview was over, and he and his cameraman Rick were packing up when he learned Elaina was heading to Elk City in the Oklahoma panhandle to await an outbreak. A little professional flattery and he was able to learn where she was staying.
“The school parking lot looks like a good place to park the live truck,” Rick Wise’s voice came over the radio from the truck behind him.
Seth switched on the blinker and veered to the right, losing sight of the behemoth truck in the cloud of dust.
His back popped when he got out of the car. Life on the road was hard on his ass.
They stopped at the small city of Townsend, a little farming community hit by a storm system that’d produced a solitary twister just weeks earlier. It’d be good to have another human-interest story in the file in case the season hit a dry spell.
The humble high school was the only building that didn’t have visible signs of tornado damage. Perhaps it was because the city’s leaders didn’t skimp on building supplies for housing their children. A church a little way down the street looked as if the bricks from one side had be syphoned off. Two pallets of bricks waited to be called into action.
Seth craned his head and looked down at the end of the street. The grocery store had taken a direct hit. Scary, considering the twister had hit on a late Saturday afternoon with the store full of shoppers. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, no one inside had been harmed.
“What’s the plan?” Rick joined him, camera and tripod in tow. Like the good cameraman he was, he came armed and ready to shoot.
“Let’s get some b-roll of the town, rebuilding, cleanup,” he said. “I’m going to meet the mayor at City Hall and get some interviews lined up.”
Seth jogged down the street and found the prefabricated building that served as city hall. He’d only just started up the path when the door opened and a man in dusty boots, dark starched jeans and a plaid work shirt came out.
“Mr. Maddux? I’m Randy Sutton, Mayor of Townsend,” he said with his hand outstretched. “We’re real honored to have you visit us.”
He grasped the mayor’s hand. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Mayor. The honor’s all mine. Why don’t you show me around, tell me about the storm?”
The sun beat down on them as they walked up Main Street. The wide blue sky was mostly unblemished, except for some thick cottony cumulus clouds blooming to the northwest. All the atmosphere needed was some cooler weather and a little bit of energy; they’d be in for another outbreak.
“Where were you when the tornado hit?” he asked
The Mayor squinted as he looked to the west. “I was out feeding the cows. I knew something was up when they started getting skittish and my dogs were keeping them in a tight herd.”
Seth followed the man’s line of sight and tried to imagine what it must’ve been like to watch a funnel cloud heading for his town. What was it like watching something as uncontrollable as a tornado roll across the field heading toward something you love? Would his heart stop from fear? Would he speed up, pumping adrenalin through his body?
He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Tornados scared him. The unpredictability; the picking of one home to demolish while allowing another to stand unscathed. The fact that a warning could produce nothing, but a half-hearted watch could spin a deadly outbreak.
It felt wrong to hope one of these monsters would strike for the benefit of ratings when it could mean someone’s world being torn apart.
But what about his world?
Julia had torn his world apart. She’d reached into his chest with her long, sharp, red talons and pulled his heart out for all the world to see. While he was put into career time out, the network had benefitted from some of the highest ratings ever and Julia had shown up with a new Louis Vuitton bag just days later.
The network wanted the ratings. They wanted footage of crying babies and buildings being ripped apart. They wanted despair, red-rimmed eyes staring vacantly at what once stood.
What the network was going to get was truth.
They were going to get the raw power of the storm with the knowledge of how to protect and survive. They were going to get honesty, hope and healing.
Seth was going to speak like every person watching were his grandparents, urging them to safety, but giving them hope to not give up. “Well, Mayor, let’s find my cameraman and get some interviews.”
In addition to the mayor, they interviewed the minister who praised divine intervention for sending the storm before the monthly potluck dinner.
The general manager of the grocery store wove a vivid tale of rattling windows, bone-crushing pressure shifts and how he’d seen into the vortex of the storm when a corner of the metal roof was peeled back. As Seth listened, the story felt more like a movie plot than what an EF1 could do.
The mayor and store manager walked him through the building. The smell of sawdust tickled his nose and sparks from a bandsaw lit up the back corner of the building. As the only grocery store within an hour’s drive, the contractor was working overtime to put it back together.
“Well, Mayor, I think we have everything we need,” Seth said, pulling his sunglasses from the top of his head. “Appreciate your time today.”
/> “Pleasure’s all ours. Now you call me if you need anything else, you hear.”
As the man spoke, Seth’s attention was drawn to a little girl who sat on her bicycle, staring intently at the construction of the grocery store.
The girl looked like a specter sitting in the midst of rubble and heavy equipment. She was tiny, possibly no older than five, but in her big blue eyes, she carried an intensity most of her peers wouldn’t see for more than twenty years.
“Who’s that?” Seth wanted to make sure he wasn’t the only one who could see the girl.
The mayor looked over his shoulder and swallowed hard. “That’s Amy Wilson. She says an angel saved her after the storm.”
“What’s she doing here?”
He gestured to lead them down the parking lot toward their truck, away from the little girl who saw angels.
Seth sidestepped the man and took a step in Amy’s direction.
The girl stared intently at the building, her eyes unblinking.
“Waiting,” the mayor sighed. “She’s waiting for the angel to come back.”
“Come on.” Seth turned to Rick, but his cameraman had already shouldered his camera.
Amy’s straight light brown hair blew across her face, a few strands sticking in her eyelashes.
He really needed one of her guardians to sign off on the interview, but he’d cross that bridge later. Right now, he needed to see what Amy saw.
“Hi, my name is Seth,” he knelt in front of her.
The girl craned her head to look around him, her gaze still intent on the building.
Seth looked up at Rick in silent guidance, but he just shrugged.
“Rolling?” he mouthed. “I heard you were in the store.”
Amy nodded her head.
“Were you scared?”
This time one of her small shoulders lifted up. She ducked her head down, trying to not break eye contact with the building.
“Want to tell me about it?”
Another wind blew, this time covering her tiny face with her hair. She let go of the handlebars of her bike and shook her head while smoothing the offending hair.
Vortex Page 9
