This isn’t any tornado. It’s a monster. The demonic wedge releases a vicious growl. Shivers climb up my spine; the reality that we might die today sets in.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I state, a nervous tremble breaking my words a part. “We have to stop her. If we can get her to see reason, maybe all the destruction will stop.”
“Stop her how, Nari?” Ruka presses his foot on the gas pedal, the truck gaining speed. “What if she’s a practicing witch or something? I know, I know. I hear how I sound, but I don’t know another reason for someone to be controlling the damn weather! She doesn’t seem too keen on stopping.”
“She’s sad,” I explain. “She’s looking for someone she loves. I’d destroy everything to find Oklahoma. We have to help her.”
“We’d have to turn around and head straight for that massive system. We wouldn’t survive it. It’s impossible. We can’t risk it.”
“We have to try,” I counterargue, not understanding why Ruka isn’t grasping how important this is. “Or her weather won’t end. What if this tornado goes on and on while she’s traveling? What if this isn’t momentary, Ruka? What if she unknowingly kills thousands? Rips away homes? We are here. We have to try. This tornado will tear the bar apart. Our friends won’t stand a chance. This storm? Everyone will die.”
“Or we die,” Ruka adds on.
“Better us than them. There are dozens there. They are afraid, Ruka.”
“We’re afraid too,” he snaps back, wiping his forehead on his arm, the sweat beading on his temples.
I agree with him. “Isn’t that beautiful?” I press my hand over his, forcing him to relax his grip on the wheel. “That we get to be afraid and are brave anyway?” I squeeze his hand. “There aren’t a lot of people who can do what we do. Those people count on us.”
In my entire life, I’ve never seen Ruka more scared. He’s always been the one who held fast, the one who kept his head, the one who always saw hope and a way out.
When I was around seven years old, a hurricane hit the island we grew up on, and the flooding destroyed our home. Me, Ruka, and our parents had to climb to the roof to be safe. Our entire house was almost underwater. At the time, I didn’t know how to swim. Ruka was a great swimmer. He didn’t seem afraid at all that we were all sitting on the roof while it rained and water still rose.
He said, “I’ll swim all of us to safety if help doesn’t come. We will be okay.”
He never had to take that chance because help did come, and we were rescued.
Ruka has always been my lifeline. I need him to pull it together now. If he is this afraid, then I know we won’t stand a chance, and I can’t have that. There’s too much to live for and too much to look forward to.
“Is that…Evan?” Ruka points to a truck coming from the opposite direction.
Between the pouring rain and hail, the windshield wipers work overtime. Still, the glass is impossible to see out of.
Ruka rolls down his window and peeks his head out to get a better look. He swipes his hand over his face, the rain impairing his vision.
We stop in the middle of the road, blocking Evan’s access. The tornado’s deathly roar has me staring out the back window again, noticing it’s moving so slow, it might be at a standstill.
“What are you doing!” Ruka shouts as Evan pulls up next to him. “You can’t go this way! You have to turn around. Find another path to the tornado.”
“No way! Have you seen this thing? It’s a career maker!”
I lean over the middle console, stretch across Ruka, and fold my arms on the door. “You said you would help. This isn’t helping if you die. Turn around, take a different road. You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t know what’s back there. Go back to the bar. We will stay here.”
The back window rolls down, and Oklahoma doesn’t say a word. He only makes himself known. My mate is an intimidating man. People sense there is a power he holds.
“We’re only going to get a closer look. We will be fine. I’m surprised you care, Nariko.”
“I might not like you, but I don’t want you to die. There’s a big difference between the two.”
“Go the other way. Don’t take this road, Evan!” Ruka warns him again. “You won’t make it.”
Evan rolls his eyes. “It might come as a shock to you, but”—he revs the engine to the truck—“I know what I’m doing.”
“No. Evan!” I scream after him when he drives towards the storm. “Evan!” I shout one more time, knowing it’s impossible for him to hear me.
I fumble with the harness, my eyes watering with tears, knowing what’s about to happen. This isn’t a regular tornado. This one is fueled by magic, the paranormal, a power I can’t explain. I don’t know what this tornado is capable of.
What I know is not to go near it.
