Natural Disaster

by Erin McLellan

  Thinking Luke was hot—not the end of the world. Wanting Luke to like him as a person, to think he was funny—that was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

  Guthrie had no intention of ever getting emotionally entangled with a storm chaser again, and at the moment, even the possibility of friendship made him feel too exposed.

  His phone dinged again.

  “What is it?” Luke asked. He flipped the windshield wipers to the highest setting as the rain picked up again.

  “A friend texted me a link. One of those clickbait online magazines has picked up our interview. They’re using your face as the main image.”

  “Hey, not cool.”

  “The title is ridiculous.”

  “What is it?” Luke asked.

  “’You’re Not Going to Believe What These Men Do to Keep You Safe.’ The strapline says, ‘We’d let these tornado chasers storm our bedroom any day.’”

  Luke groaned. “No one is going to take me seriously at work after this.”

  “No one at the station will be a dick. We’re all in the public eye and get dumb articles and speculation written about us. They’ll ignore it because there’s a precedent to ignore it. Trust me. Anyway, this is going Oklahoma-viral. Not Kim-Kardashian-viral.”

  Yet. Guthrie didn’t want to say that out loud, though.

  “Thank you. That actually makes me feel better.”

  The street in front of them was covered in puddles, and they crashed into one, sending a spray of water several feet in the air.

  Guthrie checked the rain totals. “Glad we didn’t take the dirt roads. They’re probably sludge pits.”

  “How’s the radar?”

  “They’ve issued a tornado warning on the storm to the south of us. I bet that one drops a tornado soon. Not sure it’ll happen with ours.”

  The sky in front of them was gloomy blue, but it turned to a muddy gray where the rain band started. They were going to be pummeled by precipitation, but it would be better than if they had driven straight into the worst of it. On the radar, the storm hadn’t developed a hook echo, but it easily could. Guthrie checked the base velocity function and didn’t see any rotation there either.

  A streak of lightning illuminated the sky, showing all the contours of the clouds. As much as Guthrie hated storms, hated tornadoes, hated this whole stupid season, he loved lightning. He loved the way it made the sky alight and strange. Loved the crackle of electricity in his blood.

  Luke whistled. “That was close.”

  Their phones both blared at the same time. Guthrie grabbed his from the console.

  “Flash flood warning.”

  “Already?” Luke asked.

  “This area has gotten lots of precipitation this week. The lakes and rivers were already high. Ground is saturated. Perfect conditions for it.”

  They drove slowly through a small town. Most people were smart enough to stay inside in such bad weather, except a couple of dumb storm chasers. It was eerie being the only vehicle on the road.

  Luke slowed down as the rain and wind picked up, blowing into the side of the vehicle. They made it through the main part of the town, and the businesses and homes dissipated into woods and fields. The ditches next to the road were full of water.

  “Saw a flood in a slot canyon once. It was terrifying. Give me a tornado any day,” Luke said as he took a large curve around a copse of trees. His jaw was tight, and his strong brow furrowed. He pursed his full, plush lips in concentration. Guthrie wanted to ease them open. Make those lips loose and soft and willing.

  Luke’s mouth distracted Guthrie too much as it was. He’d dream about Luke sucking on that piece of hail.

  Luke slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded and the tires lost traction. Guthrie’s phone flew from his hand, clattering into the laptop stand.

  The truck came to an abrupt stop, and Guthrie clutched at his chest. His heart was trying to punch through his throat.

  The whole experience had lasted only seconds, but it’d felt slow and drawn out.

  Luke’s warm palm landed on the back of Guthrie’s neck. “Are you okay?”

  The surprise and sudden fear cleared from Guthrie’s vision. He nodded and peered through the windshield.

  They’d come upon a creek crossing that had overflowed onto the road.

  “Fuck,” Guthrie sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest. He swallowed several times, trying to wash away the metallic taste of panic. If he hadn’t been distracted by Luke’s stupid, sexy mouth, he’d have noticed the creek crossing on the map. He should have been able to warn Luke about it and the potential for flooding.

  Luke squeezed his shoulder. “We’re okay, Guthrie. I saw it in time.”

  With a shaky breath, Guthrie leaned forward, forcing Luke to drop his hand. “Yeah. Thanks. You did good.”

  “Your phone okay?”

  Guthrie gathered it up off the floorboard. “Yup.”

  “The water doesn’t look that deep. Think this monster could plow through it?”

  “No,” Guthrie answered too quickly.

  “You sure? This truck is made for that shit.”

  “Not if you flood the engine. That is the worst idea.”

  Luke sighed. “How far would this put us back, though? We’ll have to backtrack, what? Five miles?”

  “Better to backtrack than ruin a KTTY truck by being a fucking idiot.”

  “Hey. I’m trying to weigh our options, but you won’t even listen to me.”

  “I told you. I’m the master of this universe, Luke. We are not driving through that. It’s not safe.”

  Luke turned his head to stare out the driver’s side window. His jaw was set and stubborn.

  Guthrie scrubbed a hand over his face. “Are you giving me the silent treatment now?”

  “Isn’t that what you did to me all afternoon? I asked about your storm-chasing experience and you snapped at me, then went quiet.”

  “Yeah. I did give you the silent treatment. I’m a child. Get over it. The simple fact is—the longer we sit here and bitch at each other, the more time we waste.”

  Luke growled—a noise that should not delight Guthrie but did—and reversed so he could flip a U-ey.

  As the truck came parallel to the flooding, Guthrie could see that it actually wasn’t that deep, but it was rushing pretty fast. The vehicle might have been able to power through the water, but they just as easily could have gotten swept away.

  To distract himself from the uncomfortable silence in the vehicle, Guthrie checked the radar. The southern storm had started to weaken. Theirs was going strong but not showing any circulation.

  “We should shoot for intercepting this storm near the Lake Hefner area once we get into the city,” Guthrie said.

  Luke grunted assent.

  Guthrie glanced at his phone. He had texts from friends having a field day about the interview. Brick, an old buddy from his college storm-chasing days, had asked for Luke’s relationship status, sexual preferences, and phone number.

  “You into bears?” Guthrie asked, trying to reduce the tension in the truck.

  Luke threw Guthrie the dirtiest side-eye in the world. “When’s my next turn?”

  “Two miles. So yes?”

  “None of your business.”

  Luke gritted his teeth and followed Guthrie’s directions. Rain streamed down around the truck, obscuring the view out of the side windows. Buildings right off the road were blurry and indistinct because of the downpour.

  If it weren’t for the dangerous rain, he’d slam his hand on the steering wheel and throw a huge-ass hissy fit. He wanted to crank up some dub step music to eleven and drown out his anger. He wanted to grab Guthrie Gale by his stupid perfect cheekbones and kiss him until their mouths were bleeding. Anything to distract him from the stress of this situation. It wasn’t the worst rain he’d ever navigated, but flash flooding freaked him out.

  He’d almost driven them into running water. His hands were trembli
ng. Luke was sure they could have made it through the water if they’d tried, but Guthrie was right that it was safer not to risk it. Still, Luke didn’t appreciate Guthrie’s high-handedness at all.

  And now Guthrie was asking him about his dating preferences and acting like they were hunky-dory? Who the hell did that asshole think he was?

  They reached a stoplight on the outskirts of Oklahoma City, and Luke risked a glance at his phone. It wasn’t lit up and flashing with text messages like Guthrie’s had been. Guthrie evidently had friends flipping their shit about the interview. Luke didn’t have many lasting friendships.

  He wanted that.

  The only person who had texted him was Brad, squeeing about how the interview was going over. Luke shoved his phone back into his pocket.

  “Brad says he’s trying to get the green light for additional online exclusives with us,” Luke said. “More clickbait.”

  Guthrie’s head whipped toward him so fast it was like it wasn’t connected to the rest of his body. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck that. We don’t have to be their puppets.”

  “Maybe you don’t, but I just got this job. I want to be a team player and impress my new bosses. I’ll do it if it’s what KTTY wants.”

  Luke would do anything to make his new team happy. He was in for a sleepless night of poring over that video, rewinding and rewatching every moment where Guthrie was looking at him, talking to him, smiling at him. The man was getting under his skin, and he wasn’t proud of it.

  Guthrie snorted disdainfully. “Typical.”

  “What is?”

  “All you storm chasers are the same. Attention hogs.”

  Luke was far from an attention hog. Growing up in the system often taught you that pushing for attention only ended badly and with a broken heart. “Don’t take your daddy issues out on me. You don’t know me.”

  Guthrie sucked in a sharp breath. He sounded like he’d been stabbed.

  Guilt wiggled its way into Luke’s mind. Slim Bridges was obviously a sore subject.

  “Turn left here,” Guthrie said, his voice wooden.

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “It’s fine. I deserved it. Turn left.”

  “Fine.”

  They made their way into Oklahoma City, weaving through fancy neighborhoods with golf courses and artificial ponds that were ready to burst.

  Luke couldn’t stand the suffocating silence any longer. “I’ve been with a few bears in my day.”

  Guthrie froze in his seat, going still like he was trying to avoid detection. After a long moment, he said, “My friend Brick saw our interview. He wants to meet you.”

  “Brick the bear?”

  “Yeah. Big, brawny white guy. Beard. Tats. Wears a lot of flannel.”

  “Is he nice?”

  “Yup. He doesn’t live here, though. He’s based in Missouri. Does severe weather research for the Weather Channel and the StormX Atmospheric Instrument Company.”

  “If he doesn’t live here, why does he want to meet me?” Luke could feel Guthrie staring. “What?”

  “He thinks you’re hot. He likes casual, but he’s not a jerk. He’d text you first to get to know you. That was his MO in college, at least.”

  “Then no. Not interested.”

  Guthrie shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Luke rolled his eyes. “I don’t date storm chasers,” he explained.

  “Don’t think he wants to date, exactly.”

  “I don’t hook up with them, either.”

  “Why not?” Guthrie’s voice was surprisingly tense. Tenser than earlier, even.

  “Tons of drama if things fall apart.” Luke didn’t know from personal experience, but one of his mentors used to deal with issues during each storm because her ex was inevitably chasing the same severe weather. The competitiveness between the two teams had been epic and was often accompanied by big, ugly scenes. Another reason he’d wanted a new job.

  “That’s fair,” Guthrie said. “Brick’s a good guy, though. He’d be a great contact for you, regardless. Lots of connections in Missouri and Kansas, plus with the Weather Channel.”

  Guthrie kept swinging from being a dick to being nice to being angry, and it was giving Luke whiplash. Not that he was doing better in the emotions department. He’d been all over the place today too.

  “Uh. Thanks. Maybe I’d take his email first.”

  Last year, Luke would have jumped at the chance to fool around with a nice bear with an awesome name like Brick. Shit, three months ago he’d have been down. But Luke had instituted a couple of rules for his personal life when he’d moved to Oklahoma for this job. No fucking people in the storm-chasing business. The world of storm chasers was too small and incestuous. It inevitably created bad blood.

  His other rule was less casual sex, but he didn’t want to admit that to Guthrie for some reason. It prodded at his insecurities and vulnerabilities. Luke wanted connections, a place to put down roots, and a steady friend group. Casual sex had worked for him in the past. He’d loved it. But it wasn’t working for him anymore. If someone pushed him enough, he’d admit he wanted commitment, date nights, Sunday morning sleep-ins.

  A boyfriend. Girlfriend. A significant other of some kind. Not a quick fuck after a tornado before Brick headed back to Missouri.

  Luke chanced another glance at Guthrie, who was focused on the weather maps on his phone. What was Guthrie’s type? Did he like to date or fuck around or both? Was he searching for something in the same way Luke was?

  Luke shouldn’t have cared, but he did.

  The storm seemed to be weakening to his naked eye, which he trusted more than any scientific tool in the truck. There was less thunder and lightning, but the rain was just as relentless. He drove up a fairly steep hill, keeping a steady eye on the puddles in the road, trying to avoid them so they didn’t hydroplane.

  The HAM radio crackled before a voice boomed through. “Severe flooding in parts of OKC, including in the areas northwest of Lake Hefner. Water on Lake Hefner Parkway.”

  The voice buzzed on. Guthrie snapped his head up from his phone and barked at Luke to change direction. “Parking lot! Turn into the golf course parking lot. Now.”

  At first Luke wasn’t sure why. Then he saw it as he crested the steep hill. The street below turned into a causeway between two artificial lakes, and it had flooded over. The bottom of the hill was a rush of muddy water the color of rust.

  They watched as a midsize sedan plowed straight into the water and was immediately swept up in the flow.

  “Oh shit!” Luke yelled as he turned into the parking lot.

  The sedan seemed to drift peacefully into the flood, but Luke knew the water churning underneath the surface was anything but tranquil. The floodwaters came halfway up the door, but they could easily rise.

  Guthrie pulled out his phone and dialed someone. Luke assumed it was the news station, but he was immediately corrected as Guthrie started talking. “Yes, I’d like to report an emergency at the causeway between Bird Lake and Gold Lake. A car was swept up in floodwaters. We need emergency high water rescue ASAP.” After a beat, Guthrie said, “The vehicle has come to a stop against some metal piping, maybe a fence, so it hasn’t gotten swept into the lake yet. Yes, this is Harbor Street. No other vehicles are in the water.” Guthrie took a steadying breath. He was trembling. Luke wanted to touch him again, to press his support into the back of Guthrie’s neck, but he couldn’t handle being rebuffed a second time. After another pause, Guthrie said, “My name is Guthrie Gale. I’m a reporter and storm chaser for KTTY News Channel 7.” Then he rattled off his phone number and hung up.

  Without missing a beat, Guthrie then called the station. Luke enjoyed seeing Guthrie like this. He was very take-charge, even with the unsteady hands and shaky breath.

  The person in the sedan, an elderly man, rolled his window down and frantically waved to them.

  Luke jumped out of the
car and ran toward the rushing water, stopping several feet from the edge of the flow. The man cried out, “Help!” through the open window. It was hard to hear him over the rush of the water and the pounding of the rain.

  “We called 911!” Luke yelled back. “Help is coming!”

  The man sent him a thumbs-up, and Luke gave him one in return before jogging back to the truck. He was soaked when he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Guthrie’s eyes were wide. Luke braced himself for another tongue-lashing, but instead Guthrie said, “Do you know how to work a news camera?”

  Luke bristled slightly. “Yes. I know how to work a camera. I’m qualified to do this job. Or any job you want to throw at me.” His degrees might have been cobbled together from a handful of inexpensive colleges and his experience in the field might have been untraditional, but he had all the proper training.

  “Good. We’re fixing to go live.”

  Chapter Five

  Less than ten minutes after Guthrie made the calls to 911 and the producer, Sarah Nadine, at KTTY, he and Luke were suited up in rain-resistant jackets with rain-proofed equipment. The fire department had arrived and was seemingly trying to determine the best way to reach the driver.

  “Is the vehicle visible behind me?” Guthrie asked. They were standing near the top of the hill with the causeway below them.

  Luke checked through the viewfinder of the heavy ENG camera. “Yes. Rain isn’t driving as hard either, so there’s a clearer picture.”

  “Good. Standing by.” Guthrie listened to the broadcast through his headset. “They’ll cut into your feed soon. Be prepared to zoom in on the vehicle or to shift focus to rescue efforts and away from me if need be. Are you comfortable with that? I’ll prompt if we need to do that.”

  “Gotcha. And thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Being bossy. I like knowing the plan.”

  Guthrie tried to hide his smile.

  Sarah’s voice sounded through his earpiece. “We’re coming to you live in thirty seconds, Guthrie. You ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Water dripped from the hood of Guthrie’s rain jacket onto his face. His hair was soaked and plastered to his skin, as were his jeans. Soggy jeans were the worst. Even though he didn’t look his best, a thrill went through him at the prospect of going live on the air. He didn’t get to do live reporting very often. Fluff pieces were normally recorded in advance.