A dangerous mistress that can easily take your life.
Banks slams on the gas, the engine roaring as we speed down the road. The closer we get to the storm, the darker the sky becomes.
“Do you see the striations on that?” Banks whistles, peeking through the windshield. “She is a beauty.”
Over the years of learning his language, I know he is talking about the grooves in the formation of the clouds.
He’s right. It’s beautiful, but while he sees a storm formation, I see fury waiting to be unleashed.
“How close are you wanting to get?” I ask just as his radio crackles.
“Banks. You there?”
I know that voice. It’s his friend Kai, one of the meteorologists from his team.
Banks snags the receiver and clicks the button. “Banks, here.”
“We can’t go. Flat tire. Engine won’t start. Make sure you get as much data as you can, okay? This storm is going to be a nasty one. I’ll help how I can from here for yo—” Static overcomes the radio. “Ba—ks?”
“Kai? Kai? Can you hear me? Do you copy? Kai?”
“Stay….to…” The static continues to break the connection. “Storm.”
The connection dies, filled with stagnant, broken frequencies that don’t allow us to communicate with the team.
“That’s okay. We’ll be fine,” Banks says.
I can’t get past the tone in his voice. He sounds like he is trying to convince himself.
We’re much closer to the supercell than I thought we would be. I can’t tell where the storm system ends and begins now.
“Banks. I think we need to turn around. We need to find shelter. Something doesn’t feel right.” I rub my chest, hoping the warning ache fades.
“We’re fine, Oakley. You do this every time.”
“Well, every time you get me too close for comfort.”
A loud roll of thunder interrupts us, followed by a wave of hail that bullets against the truck. They are the size of fucking baseballs. One after the other, they slam into the vehicle, his windshield cracking under the pressure.
I can’t see any rotations above us. The clouds and rain mix, making it impossible to see what is ahead.
“Turn around, Banks! You’ve taken us directly into the bear’s cage. We could be inside a tornado any fucking second,” I yell at him, a sheen of sweat breaking out over my forehead.
Being in a bear’s cage is dangerous. It’s when a tornado is rain-wrapped, hiding inside the precipitation. At any moment, a funnel could drop directly in front of us, and there would be nothing we could do.
“I—I—that’s not possible. The winds, the radar that I saw, I was following a good path, Oklahoma. I wouldn’t put us in danger like that. It’s just a brief wave of hail. That’s all. It’s normal in conditions like this.”
He never says my full name unless it’s serious.
A low, teeth-licking growl sounds so loud, my ears ring. The truck shakes, thunder rolls overhead, followed by long bolts of lightning that showcase my worst fucking nightmare.
Banks slams on the brakes, gasping as the vortex drops directly in front of us.
“Holy shit,” Banks whispers.
I’ve never seen a tornado this wide. The debris wraps around the twisting funnel; the clouds are menacing and hungry for more.
I slap my brother’s arm. “Go. Go. Go! Banks, go. Fucking drive!”
