“Because she needed a fifth.”
I nodded, hugging my camera to my chest for comfort. The walls of the vehicle pressed suffocatingly close. With so many bodies, the air felt thin and used.
The SUV’s interior was gutted, with no seats except the driver’s and passenger’s up front. I’d seen snippets on their videos but hadn’t appreciated what it meant to be locked inside with five people I didn’t know, four of whom were solely focused on me.
Sweat prickled along my spine and under my arms. For a guy who preferred to go unnoticed, there were too many eyes on me. The roar inside my head matched the storm.
Ozrik continued talking, his tone light and unthreatening. I did my best to feign nonchalance, to act normal, but I didn’t know what normal looked like and was sure I came across as a fraud.
“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. Your name’s Gale, right? I’m Ozrik.”
He offered a hand to shake, and I stared at it uncomprehendingly for a long time as his words processed sluggishly inside my brain.
“Everyone calls me Oz.”
I released my grip on the camera, inconspicuously wiped my sweaty palm on my pants, then reached out to accept the shake.
The instant before our hands came in contact, a spark of static zapped between our fingers. We simultaneously jerked our hands apart.
Ozrik laughed, shaking the appendage. “Ow. What the hell?”
“How the fuck are we gathering static charges in here?” the camera guy asked. “That’s a good way to mess up the equipment.”
Ozrik cautiously extended his hand. “Let’s try that again. Don’t zap me this time. I’m Ozrik.”
“Gale,” I blundered, pressing my palm to his.
We both braced for another shock, but it didn’t happen.
“A pleasure.” He clung a few beats longer than seemed normal, and my stomach fluttered.
“For the record,” Ozrik said, finally releasing me. “I’m wise beyond my years when it comes to storm chasing. A self-proclaimed professional. So, if you want advice—”
Someone up front laughed. “He also thinks his shit don’t stink and his dick is ten feet long.”
“Ask his mother,” one of the guys said, “she would know all the facts. She has charts.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Ozrik snapped, shooting the guy a dirty look. To me, he said, “You, my newbie friend, were in a very precarious position in that field. Your team lost track of you, and that funnel was coming down practically on your head. I saw you out there all alone, and it didn’t look like you noticed the imminent danger.”
“He wasn’t in danger,” the driver said. “That storm was nothing but a cocktease. Now we have to retrieve our probe.”
Ozrik held his hands up in supplication. “All right. Fine. There was no danger, but we didn’t know that at the time. A word from the wise wizard.” He thumbed his chest. “That would be me. Something your team captain should have told you. Neverwander that far from your escape vehicle. Mother Nature is a bitch who can’t be trusted. She doesn’t play by the rules.”
He clasped my shoulder and peered deep into my eyes, so close I saw myself reflected on their surface, then he lowered his voice. “For the record, Gale, I wouldneverleave a man behind. Ever.”
My skin sizzled where he touched me. The scent of ozone wafted off his body, mixed with a hint of sweat, rain, and something else. My heart thrummed. I hated being in the spotlight. The attention of his friends turned to me. Were my cheeks red? Could they see beyond my barriers? Was Ozrik acting for their benefit? Playing it up for a future audience. Why so much sentimentality? Why did he pretend to care?
Tensing, unable to tear my gaze from Ozrik’s, I said, “Can you ask your friend to turn the camera off? It’s making me uncomfortable.”
If I was going to have a full mental breakdown or suffer humiliation at the hands of these strangers, I didn’t want it broadcast on some stupid show later.
“We can’t,” someone said. “Supposed to record everything.”
Ozrik gave the guy a dirty look and signaled his buddy to cut the recording.
The cameraman lowered the gear and capped the lens. My panic didn’t fully recede, but fresh oxygen flooded my brain, and with it came an element of clarity. I could finally think in a straight line.
Noah, my brain provided. The cameraman’s name was Noah. He packed the gear away in a foam-lined crate. Beside him was Vern. The two up front were Elliott and Lex. Apart from Lex, who drove, I remained the group’s entire focus. Beside Vern, two open laptops displayed grids of screens, flicking through various layers of radar and displaying graphs. No one seemed to careabout them anymore. As much as they interested me, I didn’t have the capacity to casually ask if I could check them out.
