I waved back, then tumbled inside the vehicle and slammed the door. “Drive. Go, go, go. Get me the fuck out of here.”
Lex chuckled as I tossed the sandwich and mask into a plastic bag we kept for garbage.
“Whoa, wait. Is that food?” Noah rooted in the garbage bag, removing the sandwich. “I’m starving. If you’re not going to eat this, I’ll—”
“Don’t touch the sandwich.” Vern’s gaze never left the computer. “It’s booby-trapped.”
Noah frowned and seemed about to request an explanation. He and Elliott knew the least about my life. Since I didn’t want my entire fucked-up existence aired for other people’s comedic relief, and Vern was shit at filtering his comments, I said, “It’s probably spoiled. Mom made it yesterday, and I think it sat out all night on the counter.”
“Oh. Damn. Got to be careful with egg salad.” Noah tossed it in the garbage and refocused on the GoPro he’d been fussing with. “We’re already filming.” He pointed to the dash cam. “But like I told the guys, I can do some sneaky editing that Charles won’t notice, so we can cut anything that makes us look bad.”
“We aren’t supposed to edit,” I said.
“Fuck his stupid rules,” Lex said from the driver’s seat. “He can kiss my ass. We’re going to win all five slots.”
“Fucking right we are.” Vern held his hand out for a fist bump, and we all knocked it.
9
Gale
The storm brewing over Lipscomb County had nothing on the storm brewing in Olivia’s 2010 Subaru Forester. The air was thick with tension, and it was all my fault. I was there against my will, but no whining, protesting, or begging had saved me.
As a photographer, I was trained to notice minuscule details. Zooming and focusing on a certain aspect of a landscape or subject was how I got the perfect shot. I saw things others overlooked. The attention to nuance came in handy when assessing people and their moods. Since I lived in a constant state of alertness and fear, I could typically avoid unpleasant situations.
Like squishing five people into a car.
My hyperawareness of details meant that the tightening around Jazz’s eyes stood out. I registered the upward tug of his lip and how it turned his mouth into a vague snarl. I saw the flaring of his nostrils. The shallow intake of air through grittedteeth. I was fully fluent in reading aggressive body language, too, and his crossed arms and widespread thighs meant business. I didn’t miss the way he leaned away from me, either, as though the sheer idea of us touching was vile.
Jazz didn’t like me and would have probably much rather let me stay home, except everyone else insisted my presence was required. Before I knew what was happening, I was forced into a car and given a laptop with orders to navigate. Worse yet, I was crammed in the back seat between Jazz and Maggie.
It was suffocating, and I hated my sister for allowing a situation that upset my equilibrium. Why couldn’t I have at least had the front seat?
The entire team seemed to be under the illusion that I could magically deposit them at the base of a tornado. No amount of explaining swayed them otherwise—and I’d spent no less than an hour before leaving the house doing all I could to avoid this mess. Never mind how many times I explain that markers of potential tornadic activity did not necessarily mean activity would happen. You could have a recipe and all the ingredients, but it didn’t mean you’d end up with a cake. Such was the unpredictability of Mother Nature.
Olivia knew all of this. Her team understood it, too. They’d been chasing for years. I wasn’t telling them anything new, but for whatever reason, they were convinced that with me on board, they wouldn’t fail to beat Ozrik’s team to a prime location. The stormwouldproduce, and we would have the best seats in the house.
Maggie leaned over my shoulder, studying the weather map, while Olivia drove. Roe sat shotgun since he was the team’s lead videographer. Although his camera pointed at the angry horizon beyond the windshield, he’d turned more than once to face the backseat, recording our reactions and commentary. When thathappened, I tilted the laptop screen to ensure my face was hidden.
My sister had taken 283 north to Arnett before veering west. Eventually, she left the interstate in exchange for a county road that took us into Texas toward Lipscomb and the green-tinted tempest brewing in the distance. It was like a wicked witch had taken a wooden spoon and stirred the poisonous sky.
The closer we got, the tighter my stomach coiled. I loved the outdoors. I loved photographic opportunities, and meteorological conditions mildly interested me, but I had no desire to risk my life for any of it.
Four years of school, studying weather patterns, climate change, the atmosphere, and learning all there was to know about this earth-generated natural force that annually wreaked havoc indiscriminately across the Midwest, and I had never once desired to stand in the middle of it. The closer we got, the more I wanted to go home.
Jazz made several comments on my cowardice. Olivia gave him endless dirty looks. I suspected she feared that Roe’s camera would pick up the audio, and that CineVision would use that exact clip for viewers. It would shine a negative light on the team and compromise their position.
But seriously. How was this fun? The act of running headfirst into a violent storm was unnatural. When this type of weather hit Elk City, the protocol was to take shelter. We had a storm cellar for a reason.
Olivia’s and my differences had never been more glaring.
“You are certifiable,” I mumbled when she met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “They should lock you up and study you.”
It was an ongoing sibling joke, pointing out all the reasons why the other was not normal.
Olivia’s devious smile was one I recognized. She had always been fearless. “What’s wrong, Gale? Don’t you want to shake hands with a tornado?”
“No.”
