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A shopping cart crashed into the window and a crack in the glass spiderwebbed up in multiple directions. More carts were soaring along the parking lot and into the street, some of them no longer on their wheels and being pushed along on their sides. My car was rocking as if someone were pushing on it. The fabric sign of the tiny upholstery shop across the street tore off its awning and flew into the sky.
My knees shook, and my breath hitched. My trembling fingers reached out to touch the glass that was slowly breaking and would soon shatter apart into millions of pieces. All I could think was that I should go get a broom so I could be ready. I couldn’t think clearly.
Victor’s hand fell on my shoulder and pulled. I turned and met his eyes. I could barely think I was so scared, but something in the way he looked at me focused me on him.
“We have to go downstairs right now. I’ve seen the blueprints. I know there’s a shelter. Where is it?”
Snapping into some sort of coherent thought, I nodded and pointed to the corner of the store. A door to the right led to the back room where a trap door in the floor led to an underground bunker.
“Back there,” I forced out.
“Let’s go. Grab a case of water and some snacks,” he said. “We don’t know how long we’ll down there.”
Nodding, I reached for the candy by the registers, shoveling some of it into a recyclable bag that we sold. Jerky, candy bars, nuts, all kinds of randomness went into it, and then I turned to look out of the window again. The hail was harder now, and the spiderweb break in the glass had gone from near the floor all the way up to the ceiling.
I jolted into movement, heading toward the back. Victor was there when I arrived, carrying a case of water and a case of beer.
A sound like an explosion rocked the building, and the lights went off. Cast in a sudden pitch blackness aside from the dim light coming from outside, I stumbled, falling into Victor’s arms as he pulled me into the backroom. Crashing glass followed, and I knew the window must have given way. A whooshing sound of wind blew into the building, and I raced to the door to the floor. Yanking it open, I ran down the steps, Victor following me and locking it behind him.
The rooms downstairs were reinforced with concrete, designed for the survival of several people for several days if needed. It had a small room with a commode in the back that connected to a backup septic tank. A generator was along another wall with hookups that could be used to power some electronics. A couple of propane camping stoves and cooking materials were on a shelf along with some canned beans and soups and a few stacks of bottled water.
It had been maintained once a quarter, a job that I enjoyed doing personally. It meant a day away from the customers to go and make sure that everything down there was in working order and functional. I usually loved being out with customers, but once in a while, it was nice to get away. It had been one of Dad’s biggest brags, that he had a shelter that several people could survive in for weeks comfortably. I had used it a couple of times for tornados that were in the area, but none had ever touched down close enough that anyone was down there long enough to use anything.
There was silence for a few minutes before Victor cleared his throat. I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was happening, especially with Victor trapped there with me.
“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry about Sarah. I just need you to know that she has always been like that. She’s nasty and rude, and she has zero legal standing about this store. I did everything on the up and up. She will be back out of my life, this time for good, very soon.”
“Whatever,” I said. “There’s a wind-up radio on that shelf behind you. Please turn it on so we can hear the news.”
Victor nodded solemnly and went to the shelf to get it. As he did, a crashing sound above us sounded like it was nearby. Maybeour store, but probably a block or so away. Whatever it had been, it was destroyed now. Victor wound the radio and moved the needle to the local pop station, where a voice was excitedly going over reports.
“…coming down Broad Street at a high rate of speed. Again, the mayor and police are asking people to shelter in place as best as possible. The governor has already declared a state of emergency for the region and has asked for reinforcements. There are no reported casualties, but the damage to property has already been tremendous. It is imperative that citizens stay in place. I repeat, stay in place.”
“It’s going to hit us,” I said.
Victor could only nod.
17
VICTOR
The icy chill of fear went down my spine as I listened to the radio report. The tornado was going to run right over us if it kept its course. And there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t.
I sat down heavily on a small bed that was set up against one wall. The whole day had been a whirlwind of terrible events from the second Sarah showed up. It seemed so ridiculous that I had been in my living room with Melanie, sharing a kiss where the heat was so strong that I thought we might tumble into bed right then and there earlier in the day. Now I was here in the storm shelter basement of the store, with Melanie angry because Sarah had yet again tried to ruin my life, awaiting a tornado that could absolutely ruin the investment that I had moved here for.
Melanie was leaning back in a corner of the ancient but comfortable-looking couch in the center of the room. She had a bottled water in her hand and cracked it open. After taking a big sip, she spun the top back on the bottle and stared directly at me. I met her gaze and held it, wondering what she was going to say. She was upset, clearly, and afraid. But she was also angry. Looking at it from her perspective, I totally understood too.
“If she wanted you back—” she said suddenly, her voice slicing through the silence of the room, despite the crashing sounds above. “If she called you right now and said she wanted you back, would you go?”
I didn’t hesitate to answer. It was a question I had asked myself plenty of times, and the answer hadn’t changed since a week after she’d left.
“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t love her. I thought I did before. Maybe I did. And for a brief moment after she left me, I probably would have taken her back. But not now. Not even if a gun was held to my head.”
She nodded. “Hmm,” she said, not giving any indication whether that was an answer she wanted or expected or not.
“Iamattracted toyou,though,” I said.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “What the hell kind of a thing is that to say right now?”
