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Sure, it was exciting and probably what most meteorologists dreamed of, but the danger was real. And knowing it was coming...
It wasn’t so much excitement as it was dread.
The meteorological world was abuzz with the news, but I didn’t want this.
I wanted lightning and thunder. I wanted light shows of fury and power. Not paths of death and destruction.
Knowing Doreen would be arriving at six, I made two coffees and handed one to her as she walked through the door.
She sipped her coffee and studied the radar screens. “How’s it shaping up?”
“Right on track,” I said. “Cyclone Hazer.”
“T-minus?”
“Still at five days.”
She nodded as though she knew this already. “Shit.”
“Yep.”
We did what needed doing for an hour—comms with the World Cyclone Committee and confirming data with the bureau head office—until Doreen stood up and collected Bruce. “Well, we may as well take shifts for the next few days; no point in us both being here all the time. I’ll be back at eight tonight for the graveyard shift, and you can start at six bells tomorrow. How does that sound?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer. With another whack to my shoulder, she was gone.
“Sounds great, thanks,” I said to the empty room.
Because itwasa good idea. I was grateful for her being here at all. And while my name was now atop hers on the boss list, we both knew who was calling the shots.
I didn’t mind.
It wasn’t a power grab. This was an impending natural disaster. It wasn’t time for a pissing contest. It was time for all hands on deck and teamwork.
Plus, I liked Doreen.
I liked that she was absolutely no nonsense, no bullshit. A very far cry from my old colleagues in Melbourne. And when this cyclone was over and she went back to retirement, I might even miss the company.
I thought I’d like being on my own. In Melbourne, I’d basically worked on my own anyway, and given this post was a one-person job, I was expecting to be solo.
But since I’d started, I’d had Tully with me almost every day, sorting out the office, updating the two old box screens above the dash to flatscreen TV’s, and getting familiar with the old dashboard itself. Then I’d had Doreen come to help, and... for the first time in my career, I’d actually had a co-worker that I liked, that I trusted. That I respected, and who respected me.
It was a nice change, and it reinforced that I’d made the right decision in being here.
Just after nine that morning, a white van pulled into the yard. At first I thought it was a storm-chasing van with the radar and aerials on top, but then I saw the small news logo on the door.
Great.
A woman with a terrible jacket and a microphone got out, followed by the driver who, as it turned out, was also the cameraman. I met them at the door, not knowing what to do or say and wishing to god Doreen was still here. Though the shirt she’d worn today— with a cute cat licking its paw and the wordsI lick pussyon it—would need blurring out on TV, but at least it wouldn’t have been me...
“Can I help you?” I asked, coming down the steps to meet them.
“Lindsey Ashley, Channel 4,” she said in that voice newsreaders used. “We’d like to speak to someone about the latest cyclone warning and perhaps what our viewers can expect over the next coming days.”
“Ah...” Dear god. “Well, that’d be me, I guess. I’m the only one here.”
“And you are?”
“Doctor Overton, meteorologist. However, I’m sure you can appreciate my time is best spent elsewhere.” I gestured back to the door. “This office is run manually, and I have a lot going on right now.”
