Thirty years old
Living in a wide-open space comes with its share of caution.
There’s a freeness to being in a field of wheat, watching the long strands sway back and forth, brushing together to create white noise that’s a lullaby to the restless mind.
It’s peaceful.
Yet deadly.
There’s nowhere to hide when a storm comes. And itwillcome. They always do.
Like right now, to the west, a haunting possesses the sky.
I know my brother is going to want to chase it. I’ve known that adrenaline addict nearly my entire life. Banks and I met when we were placed in the same foster home. Our fosterparents ended up adopting us, and we were able to live a pretty good life considering what the alternative could have been.
They passed away a few years ago, since they were an older couple, and left us the small ranch they had. I’d love to buy the surrounding land one day if it ever becomes available, so I can expand. I want to do more with this property and use it to its full potential. I don’t know what it would all entail. All I know is dreams are as limitless as the fields of wheat before my eyes.
“Oakley! This storm is definitely going to give us something. Want to come with us this time?” Banks shouts from behind me, the screen door slamming shut in his rush.
He stops at the driver’s side door of his green truck that has more gadgets in it than I could ever possibly name.
I should say no. Storm chasing isn’t what I like to do in my spare time. We’re getting into tornado season, and Banks is going to be chasing every second of the day he can. Which means I’m going to be stressed out and worried about his safety until it’s over.
“As long as you don’t kill me.” I jump down from the fence post, taking one last look at the rage-filled sky.
“Ah, I’ve kept you alive all this time, right?” He smiles.
I always get nervous about storms. Today feels different. The air is warm and heavy. The winds are becoming stronger. The wheat is swaying harder.
“Do you feel that?” Banks shouts in excitement, swinging open the truck door. “Come on. I don’t want to miss it. I’ve already let my team know. They are on the way.”
I dust off my cowboy hat before placing it back on my head. My boots slam against the ground, the short blades of grass crunching under every stomp.
When I get to the passenger side of the truck, Banks is grinning like he’s about to win a million dollars. His dimplesshow, making him look younger than he really is. He’s only a few years older than me, yet I’m the buzzkill in this relationship.
I’m cautious. Always have been and always will be. I have to be for both of us because Banks clearly doesn’t give a shit about his life. All it will take is the wrong storm to take him from me.
The hardest part of being on the sideline while he lives his dreams is not knowing when I’ll get the phone call telling me my brother is dead. The unknown certainty is a weight on my chest, waiting to suffocate me with the cruelty of losing him.
I hate unknowns. I spiral, trying to figure out every scenario in my head. I have to be prepared for all outcomes. Scenarios that are so far-fetched that they probably wouldn’t ever happen. My heart knows how ridiculous it sounds. My mind finds peace even if the constant overthinking exhausts me.
“You know the drill.”
I roll my eyes and secure the harness across my chest just as he does. He double-checks his mirrors. He’s got everything in here. GPS, radio, camera gear, emergency kits, and nonperishable food items for communities in case a tornado has affected them.
I know why he does this. He wants to warn people ahead of time. The tornado warning systems out here only give people a few minutes. That is hardly enough time to get to safety. Banks’ goal is to give them up to twenty minutes warning to get into a storm shelter.
I know the reason behind his obsession, too.
Banks chases ghosts. His parents died in a tornado when he was a little boy. That storm went down in history. An F-5 ripped through his neighborhood, shredding homes to useless debris. He told me that when rescuers dug him up from the remains of what used to be his home, he was the only one found.
“This system is going to be a good one, Oakley. I think we will see a rope.” His eyes drop to the barometer, and he slams hishand on the steering wheel. “See that?” Banks taps the device. “Pressure has dropped. Doesn’t mean a tornado will form, but the outcome is in our favor. It means the conditions are good.”
I wouldn’t call this “good.”
My heart rate kicks up a notch, the same feeling I get when I ride a horse or when the bull breaks from the pen.
Adrenaline.
