The Tornado Chasers

by Ross Montgomery

  ‘He … told you … about it?’ he croaked.

  Ceri snorted. ‘Well, of course he did! He invited me to join the gang.’ She frowned. ‘Wait – that’s the right word, isn’t it? “Gang”? I think that’s right …’

  The ground swallowed me up. Or rather, I wish it had. At least then Callum wouldn’t have been able to start using me as a human maraca.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ I cried as he shook me. ‘I didn’t realise we weren’t supposed to tell people!’

  Ceri leant in between us, completely unaware that anything was the matter.

  ‘Great!’ she said. ‘So, when’s our first meeting? How about in Callum’s storm shelter? You know, when his babysitter’s not looking.’

  Without warning Callum spun round and lunged hard, shoving her backwards. Ceri stumbled, her leg braces scraping on the dusty cobbles. She glanced up angrily.

  ‘Hey!’ she said.

  ‘There is no first meeting!’ said Callum. ‘Not for you!’

  A gust of wind suddenly picked up across the zoo, blowing hard against us. Ceri stepped forwards.

  ‘Why not?’ she demanded.

  I glanced around nervously. Miss Pewlish was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Because,’ Callum shouted, ‘it’s for the bravest, and the strongest! It’s for people who aren’t frightened of anything! And look at you … for God’s sake, you can’t even walk properly!’

  It silenced us. No one knew what to say. Ceri stared at Callum, shifting the weight on her legs.

  ‘I’m ten times stronger and braver than you, Callum,’ she muttered.

  Callum let out a bitter laugh. ‘Oh you are, are you? Go on then, prove it!’

  He turned around and jabbed a finger into the bear enclosure.

  ‘Climb inside that pen then, seeing as you’re so brave,’ he said. ‘Go on! Let’s all see you do it!’

  Callum turned to us with a triumphant grin. We stared at him in silence. He placed his hands on his hips, reminding us exactly who was in charge. Then he spun back round to Ceri.

  ‘And if you mention this in your stupid paper …’

  He trailed off. Ceri had disappeared. In her place stood Flossie, sucking on a short length of rope that dangled from her wrist. It had been cut.

  ‘Huh?’ said Callum.

  ‘CERI DEWBRIDGE!’

  We all spun round. Miss Pewlish was sprinting towards us, holding a fresh cappuccino.

  ‘GET OUT OF THERE!’

  We looked at each other in confusion. Then we turned, and slowly looked over the wall of the enclosure. Our stomachs dropped.

  Ceri was climbing on top of the sleeping bear.

  ‘GET OFF THAT THING AT ONCE!’ Miss Pewlish screamed. ‘YOU HEAR ME? AT ONCE!’

  Ceri ignored her, and kept climbing. The bear wriggled weakly beneath her, grumbling lazily before falling back asleep. Handful by handful Ceri heaved herself across its back and onto its shoulders. In one quick movement she slung her leg braces over the blades of its back, and sat upright to face the crowd.

  There was not a single sound to be heard in the zoo now. The entire school stood packed around the wall of the bear enclosure, watching in disbelief at what was unfolding before them. A brace of wind blew down from the valleys and carried across the silent crowd. Ceri sat carefully balanced on the bear’s shoulders, facing the sea of stunned faces. She took a moment to take it all in, her chest heaving. For a moment, even she looked surprised that she had done it.

  And then she threw back her head, and punched the air with both hands.

  ‘I,’ she cried, ‘am a Tornado Chaser!’

  She paused, letting the sound of her voice carry over the crowd and echo off the enclosure walls. Then, she very slowly turned to face Callum, her eyes triumphant. She pointed straight at him.

  ‘And I am not afraid!’

  8

  How to Get Out of Serious Trouble

  Miss Pewlish crossed her hands over the desk.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘One of you might as well tell me how it happened.’

  We sat before her in grim silence. We had only just arrived back from the zoo. Orlaith and Pete were still tied at the wrist. Ceri was smeared grey with dust and moulting bear fur. Callum and I guiltily twiddled our thumbs. No one spoke.

  ‘Anyone?’ said Miss Pewlish.

  We looked at each other in despair. In the chaos that had followed the bear incident, not one of us had thought to organise a cover story. There was no way we’d be able to make up an explanation now, without the risk of one of us slipping up and giving away the truth about the Tornado Chasers. And if anyone found out about that … well, we really were done for.

  Miss Pewlish sighed, and shook her head.

  ‘Never,’ she said, her voice taut with anger, ‘in all my years as School Safety Officer, have I ever come across such reckless or dangerous behaviour. On a school trip. During an SW5!’ She slammed her hands on the tabletop, making us jump. ‘You do realise that a tornado could have landed today, don’t you?’

  We cringed.

  ‘You leave me no choice,’ she muttered. ‘With the power invested in me as School Safety Officer, I’m suspending all five of you – for the rest of the year. Your parents will be informed immediately.’

  My stomach heaved.

  ‘N-no,’ I managed to croak. ‘Not my parents!’

  Miss Pewlish nodded sadly. ‘Yes, Owen. And what’s more, this incident will be recorded on all of your permanent files.’

  Orlaith suddenly leapt from her seat.

  ‘You … you can’t,’ she cried, her face desperate. ‘I’m supposed to be going to the Valley Academy next year! They’ll never take me with a suspension on my record!’

  Miss Pewlish smiled coldly. ‘I’m afraid that’s not my problem, Miss Reade. As School Safety Officer, I have a duty to uphold the Storm Laws which all five of you violated today.’

  Ceri suddenly looked up, her eyes glimmering.

  ‘We did?’ she said. ‘Which ones?’

  Miss Pewlish’s lip thinned. She heaved a giant book from under the desk and slammed it open on the table, jabbing a finger onto the page.

  ‘Inciting public disorder,’ she read. ‘Endangering personal safety. Improper use of bears … I could go on. And in an SW5 all Storm Laws – no matter how small – must be upheld.’

  Ceri looked delighted. ‘Really? All of them?’

  Miss Pewlish glared at her stonily. ‘Yes, Ceri! All of them!’

  ‘Including Storm Law IX.ii?’ said Ceri. ‘The one that says a teacher on an outdoors field trip should be with her class at all times, and not buying a cappuccino from the zoo cafe?’

  Miss Pewlish’s face fell. ‘I … I beg your pardon?’

  Ceri stood up and leant over the desk, pointing at the book in front of her.

  ‘It’s just there, Miss Pewlish. Storm Law IX.ii: Elected adults must take full responsibility for the children placed in their care at all times. That elected adult would be … you, in this case. Which means that sneaking off to grab a frothy coffee when on a school trip violates a Storm Law, too.’

  Miss Pewlish fumbled.

  ‘That’s … beside the point,’ she muttered. ‘Several children saw the five of you arguing before convincing Ceri to climb inside that enclosure. And unless one of you has a very good explanation for that …’

  ‘Abandonment!’ I suddenly cried, leaping to my feet.

  Everyone turned to look at me. I cleared my throat. I had to admit that I didn’t really know what I was doing.

  ‘I … I saw what happened to Ceri beside the bear enclosure,’ I said. ‘When you left, Miss Pewlish, she almost lost her mind with fear! She kept saying, over and over again, “When is Miss Pewlish coming back? Why has she left us here unsupervised during a school trip?”’

  Orlaith’s eyes widened with realisation. She jumped to her feet.

  ‘That’s right!’ she cried. ‘She went mad, Miss Pewlish! And she kept threatening to climb into the pen – b
ecause … because …’

  Callum stood up. ‘Because she thought she’d seen a grown-up in there! I bravely tried to stop her, of course, but in the heat of the moment she slipped into the pen …’

  ‘… where I mistook the sleeping bear for a chaperone!’ Ceri cried. She folded her arms. ‘Not that you would have seen any of that, Miss Pewlish – seeing as you were busy buying yourself a cappuccino when it all happened …’

  ‘With a hazelnut shot.’

  We glanced beside us. Pete had stood up, and leant across the desk at Miss Pewlish.

  ‘I could smell it.’

  Miss Pewlish fumbled nervously behind her desk, her eyes darting between us.

  ‘You … you can’t prove anything,’ she muttered.

  Orlaith blinked innocently. ‘Really? We could always check the cameras at the zoo cafe. That is … if we have to.’

  We stood in a line, staring at Miss Pewlish. Her eyes flicked between us. She swallowed dryly. Then, out of nowhere, a beaming smile emerged on her face.

  ‘Well, children,’ she said brightly. ‘In that case, maybe we should just forget about what happened today. I’m sure it’s all just been a terrible misunderstanding. Nothing to bother the school safety board with. Don’t you agree?’

  We all nodded. Miss Pewlish’s smile suddenly disappeared, and was replaced with a glare that would blacken stone.

  ‘Now get out of my sight,’ she spat.

  We scurried towards the door, gazing at each other in dizzy disbelief. We had just achieved the unthinkable. Together, the five of us had fought Miss Pewlish and the Storm Laws, and we had won. We weren’t just a bunch of frightened schoolchildren any more.

  We were the Tornado Chasers.

  9

  The First Official Meeting of the Tornado Chasers

  I knocked anxiously at the metal door.

  ‘Callum!’ I whispered. ‘Quick! Let me in!’

  There was no answer – at least, nothing I could hear over the groan of the wind behind me, rippling up my jacket. It was growing stronger and stronger every day. I shivered, and glanced over my shoulder across Callum’s back garden. There was no sign of anyone through the windows of the enormous square house at the end of the lawn. It was practically a mansion.

  The door of the shelter suddenly burst open, and a hand dragged me inside and threw me to the floor. I looked up. Callum slammed the door shut.

  ‘The secret knock, Owen,’ he muttered. ‘Honestly. How many times did I explain it to you?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I muttered. ‘Sorry.’

  I got to my feet, dusting off my shorts, and looked around the shelter. It was a curved iron roof, dug into the ground and held up from inside with a strong timber frame. Along the beams were rows of neat bunk beds. A simple wooden table and chairs stood in the middle of the floor, lit by an electric lamp.

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe your parents have their own storm shelter.’

  ‘Yep,’ said Callum. ‘They’re pretty loaded.’

  I looked at him. ‘What do they do? Why are they so rich?’

  Callum ignored me, and focused all his attention on loading a BB gun in his hands. I frowned.

  ‘Er … why do you have a gun, Callum?’ I said.

  He glared at me dramatically. ‘Why do you think, Owen? Protection.’

  I blinked. ‘Protection from what?’

  Callum rolled his eyes. ‘Murderous Pete! He’ll be here with Orlaith any minute. I’m not taking any chances with either of them. If we annoy Orlaith, she’ll probably give Pete orders to rip our arms off.’

  Knock knock.

  Callum paled, and hurriedly handed me the BB gun.

  ‘Keep an eye on them,’ he whispered. ‘If anything goes wrong, I want you to shoot them both.’

  I gawped. ‘Me? But I can’t …!’

  Callum had already opened the door before I could finish. I quickly shoved the gun in my pocket as Orlaith stepped inside. She was dressed in a grey skirt and white shirt, both neatly ironed. She looked even smarter than when she was in her school uniform, although the wind had made her hair cover her shoulders and most of her face.

  ‘H-hi Orlaith,’ I squeaked, my knees shaking. The gun weighed heavy in my pocket. ‘Is, er … Pete with you?’

  Pete squeezed through the doorway behind her with some difficulty, and stood in the lamplight.

  ‘Hi guys,’ he mumbled.

  Callum and I both stared at him. Murderous Pete was wearing a baby-blue T-shirt with a picture of a unicorn on it, and matching shorts. He also wore a baseball cap, which also had a picture of a unicorn on it. He held up a Tupperware box and rattled it shyly.

  ‘I made us some fun buns,’ he said.

  Ceri suddenly burst through the metal door behind him, beaming.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, everyone!’ she gasped. ‘Woof! That wind, eh? Ooh, are those fun buns?’

  Far in the distance, the clock tower chimed for Weekend Curfew to begin. I ran to the shelter door and bolted it shut.

  ‘That’s everyone!’ I said. ‘Quick check – did you all arrange your cover stories for the afternoon?’

  The others nodded. We’d all told our parents we were spending the day at each other’s houses to practise lines for the school play. Orlaith was at Callum’s; Pete was at Orlaith’s; Ceri was at Pete’s; and I had told my parents I was at Ceri’s.

  ‘What about you?’ I said, turning to Callum. ‘Did you tell your babysitter you were at mine?’

  Callum glowered. ‘She’s not my babysi—’

  ‘Great!’ I smiled, cutting him off. ‘Then I guess … this is it. Our first meeting.’

  We looked at each other. It was hard to believe that barely a week ago, I hadn’t known any of them. And now, together, we were going to do the unthinkable. Orlaith clapped her hands.

  ‘We’ve got a lot to plan,’ she said, ‘and not much time to do it. Let’s get started.’

  Without another word she whipped a sheet from one of the beds and flung it over a beam, weighing down the corners with chairs to make a giant screen. She pulled a marker pen out of her pocket and turned to face us. We were all stood on the spot, staring at her.

  ‘Well?’ she muttered. ‘Sit down!’

  We obediently pulled up chairs around her while Pete distributed the fun buns. Orlaith began drawing on the bed sheet. She moved at lightning speed – in no time at all she had sketched a simple map of the entire village, including the school, the green, the stream, and the road that led out to the valleys, all of it ringed by a giant circle of stormtraps.

  ‘Now, let me get this right,’ she said. ‘Our plan is to wait until the tornado lands. When it does, we find out when it’s due to pass Barrow, then we escape the village, get a photo of us standing next to it and then go home. Correct?’

  Everyone nodded eagerly. A fizz of excitement passed through the air.

  ‘Imagine,’ I said dreamily. ‘The five of us, standing next to a tornado.’

  ‘We’d be legends,’ said Callum. ‘Heroes, even. They’d talk about us for generations.’

  ‘The story of the century,’ said Ceri.

  We sat in silence for a moment, bathing in the sheer thought. It felt good.

  ‘Well, that’s all well and good,’ said Orlaith, quickly bursting the bubble. ‘But let’s face facts. If we’re going to go ahead with a plan this risky, then we have to make sure we get it perfect. We’re going against every Storm Law there is. One wrong step, and all five of us are in serious trouble.’

  We glanced at each other. She was right, of course. I got the feeling Orlaith was rarely wrong.

  ‘So how do we do it?’ I asked.

  Orlaith sighed. ‘Well, first of all, we have to get out of the village without being caught. Which means getting past … this.’

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a little figurine. It was a carrot carved into the shape of a man. Orlaith had made him a little yellow outfit out of Post-it notes, and some carefully positioned c
urly hair from dried seaweed. It was impossible to mistake that mean expression.

  ‘My dad,’ said Orlaith, holding up the carrot. ‘He patrols the streets each night, even when the tornado’s landed. And if he catches us, we’re going to have to deal with … this.’

  She brought out another carved doll. We gasped. It was a pale white parsnip, with two black olives carefully arranged for glasses, and a black suit made of stitched velvet, and a thin slit for a mouth. It seemed to almost glow in the lamplight. Everyone around me shuddered.

  ‘The Warden,’ said Callum eerily.

  Ceri nodded at the vegetables. ‘Nice dolls, by the way.’

  Orlaith shrugged. ‘I made them at home.’

  I put my hand up. ‘Er … who is this “Warden”, exactly? People keep talking about him – why is everyone so afraid of him?’

  Callum gave me a withering glare. ‘Christ, Owen, he’s only the scariest guy in the valleys. How did you not hear about him in Skirting? Did you live in a hole or something?’

  Orlaith held the parsnip doll towards me, wiggling it mysteriously.

  ‘He runs the County Detention Centre,’ she said. ‘That’s where they take you if you break the Storm Laws. Most children never come back.’

  ‘Trust us – you don’t want to end up there,’ said Ceri darkly. ‘The Warden is bad news.’

  I blinked. ‘Why?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘They say,’ said Pete in a whisper, ‘he used to be a bear tracker.’

  We all looked at Pete. He had brought his hands up to his mouth, like a giant hamster eating a nut.

  ‘Only the bears …’ His face suddenly bulged with horror, ‘… ate his eyes.’

  Orlaith sighed. ‘Oh, Pete, come on – that’s completely ridiculous.’

  ‘No, it’s true!’ said Callum, nodding furiously. ‘Seriously, I heard he hasn’t got any eyes, just big black holes with pus and worms coming out of them and stuff.’

  Orlaith groaned. ‘Nobody ate his eyes! That’s just a stupid story!’

  ‘Then how come he wears glasses all the time, smarty pants?’ said Callum. ‘Think about it! If he hasn’t got any eyes, then he needs glasses to see.’