Natural Disaster

by Erin McLellan

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good. I know it’s weird to wait.”

  “No. I understand. We’re coworkers. It’ll be better to wait until this”—Guthrie gestured to all the equipment and the darkening sky—“isn’t between us.”

  Luke craved stability—Guthrie understood that. Luke needed it. Being partners was the most important thing to Luke, but Guthrie was prepared to go all in once tornado season was over. For the first time since Guthrie was twenty, he was ready to try. If he could trust Luke in bad weather, maybe he could also trust Luke with his heart.

  Luke’s brow furrowed. He was staring straight out the windshield. “I don’t like the looks of that.”

  Guthrie faced forward and immediately sat up straighter. “Mammatus clouds.” The fluffy pouch-like clouds were just forming. Their presence in this part of the country normally indicated a particularly severe storm.

  Guthrie updated all of his apps. The radar and maps weren’t showing any change in their storm, which was good. No hook echo. But his eyes didn’t lie.

  “Can I get a picture of them?” Luke asked. Mammatus clouds were dramatic and didn’t occur all that often.

  “Sure.” Guthrie tried to imagine the clouds through Luke’s lens—striations of grays and blues, the weak light making each curve shine.

  Luke grabbed his camera from the back seat and jumped out. Guthrie stayed in the truck. He loved watching Luke work, though. His body went still, as if he was frozen in time right along with the art he was creating. Luke’s personality swung from carefree to intense so quickly, and it excited Guthrie. He enjoyed it. Longed to crack the code that was Luke.

  Eventually, Guthrie honked the horn, making Luke jump a mile and throw a grin over his shoulder. Guthrie waved. The clouds were swirling to the north of them, the hint of a wall cloud in the making. They needed to adjust their location so they’d be in a better position later.

  Luke climbed back into the truck and brushed his wild hair out of his eyes.

  “Need to move,” Guthrie said.

  “Agreed. Let’s get out in front of it. Did you let everyone know what we’re seeing?”

  “Yup. Shit. Stupid wager.” Luke cackled but didn’t boast about the added point. Guthrie continued on, “The radar seems weak on this one, but we need to trust our own eyes. And gut. I think it will drop one soon.”

  “I trust you. Lead the way.”

  Warmth filled Guthrie’s chest, chasing away some of that choking pressure. He helped Luke navigate to a hill a few miles northeast of the wall cloud, where they could see the whole landscape. The road system in the area was pretty straightforward, which made their job easier. It was a grid of county roads. Guthrie slipped his headset on and updated the station about the wall cloud.

  The grass around the truck was no longer blowing gently in the wind. Guthrie rolled his window down. It was humid and warm.

  His anxiety spiked. The calm before the storm was a saying for a reason.

  The rain came minutes later.

  Then the wall cloud dropped a funnel.

  It all happened so fast. He informed Sarah and the audio guy that they had a funnel forming, but it was clear from Seth’s broadcasting that there were bigger fish to fry in other parts of the state. There was a tornado down near Stillwater and another close to Elkville, plus the supercell close to Moore. Luke and Guthrie’s was the least important.

  Their funnel continued to grow and grow, until a cloud of debris bloomed underneath it.

  “Tornado on the ground,” Guthrie said into the headset.

  “Location?” Sarah asked. Guthrie gave her the coordinates and cross streets as Luke maneuvered the car so the front windshield was facing the storm. They were too far away for good footage, though.

  She let him know that they’d report the location and tornado warning and to inform her when they had a better shot.

  Luke said, “It’s traveling northeast at a slow clip. We could get directly in front of it, get some footage straight on, then bail south or north before it reaches us.”

  It wasn’t a bad plan considering the roads were deserted. They’d be able to watch it develop and get out of its way in plenty of time.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Guthrie directed Luke to the perfect north-south county road. In the minutes it took them to get to the street, the tornado had grown. It was now cone-shaped.

  The rain was falling harder, washing down into the ditches and forming puddles on the roads. Luke turned south onto their target street, moving at a decent, but safe, speed.

  Suddenly, the road turned from asphalt to dirt, which was slippery from the rain.

  Luke cursed. “It’s slick.”

  They had four-wheel drive, but if Luke was uncomfortable, so was Guthrie. Uncomfortable was an easily accessible emotion for him.

  “Should we turn around?”

  Luke grimaced. “If we make it to the other side of that hill, we’ll be in the sweet spot for footage, so let’s see the road conditions there. If it’s too muddy or slick, we’ll turn around.”

  “All right.” There were houses nearby on the east side of the road. Hopefully the tornado would change its path.

  Guthrie kept his eye on the tornado. It was still a ways away, but seemed to be widening. It was hard to tell the size because it was rain-wrapped. His radar finally updated on his phone, showing a hook echo. About time.

  They crested the hill, and Guthrie was so glued to the tornado that he didn’t have time to prepare. Neither did Luke. There was no way to prepare for the small car at a dead stop, crossways over both lanes, watching the approaching twister.

  Luke screamed, and Guthrie squeezed his eyes shut. The truck clipped something, the sound of scraping metal filling Guthrie’s ears. The wheels lost traction on the slippery road, and they spun.

  Within seconds, they came to a slamming, sickening stop.

  Guthrie didn’t want to open his eyes, but he had to. He blinked them open in time to see the red car speed away, its bumper slightly dented.

  More things came into focus.

  The truck was making a foreboding clicking sound.

  They were in the muddy ditch.

  Luke had managed not to hit the car head-on by swerving to avoid.

  The red car had left them here.

  Luke was touching his arm and saying his name.

  “I’m okay,” Guthrie said. “Are you?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  “We have to get out of this ditch.” Guthrie couldn’t bring himself to look at the tornado.

  Luke threw the car into reverse, but the mud was too deep. The wheels spun and flung sludge into the air.

  “Oh fuck,” Guthrie whispered.

  “We’re okay.” Luke tried pulling forward instead, but it only made the back end of the truck fishtail into the ditch too.

  The fear in Luke’s eyes was finally what did Guthrie in. He turned in his seat to see the tornado. It was a field away, and shaped liked a wedge. It was wider than it was tall.

  “We need to go,” Guthrie said.

  “I can’t—I don’t know what to do. The truck’s not moving.”

  Guthrie glanced around wildly. They could make for a ditch or….

  “The houses. Move. Luke, now.”

  It was only then that he heard the static and Sarah yelling in his ear. “Guthrie! Guthrie, are you okay? We lost your dashcam feed. Guthrie?”

  “We got in a wreck. Truck’s in a ditch. The tornado is heading right for us. Is there anyone nearby?”

  After a loaded beat, she said, “No.”

  “Shit. We’re leaving the truck.”

  As they jumped out of the vehicle, Guthrie grabbed his backpack. It had a first aid kit. Luke seized his personal camera case from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. Then they ran.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Guthrie’s hand in his was the only thing keeping Luke on his feet. They sprinted down the muddy bank and along the fence line toward
a group of three farmhouses. The wind hit them in the face, slowing them down. It took Luke a second to realize it was updraft. He peeked over his shoulder, expecting to see the tornado on his tail, but it wasn’t as close as he feared. Just huge. They skidded onto the gravel lane. The first house didn’t have a vehicle out front or a garage. Guthrie hauled Luke to the side of the house and into the backyard like he was searching for something.

  Whatever it was, he didn’t find it because they kept right on sprinting. The second and third houses were directly across the street from each other. There was an old man standing on the porch of one, watching them.

  “Do you have a storm shelter?” Guthrie yelled.

  The man shook his head and pointed across the street. “The Jenkins house does out back. It’s a foreclosure.”

  Guthrie started to tug Luke that direction, but Luke stopped him. “You alone?” he called to the man.

  “Nah. Missus is inside bitching that Wheel of Fortune was preempted.”

  “You need to take shelter right now,” Guthrie shouted over the wind and rain. “Come with us.”

  The old man waved his hand in dismissal. “We’ll go to the bathtub like we always do.”

  “Please!” Luke yelled.

  “It’s not safe above ground. You need to be below ground,” Guthrie said.

  The man shook his head again and went inside, the screen door slamming behind him.

  “Oh fuck,” Guthrie said. “We’ve got to move.” He was trembling.

  Luke nodded. Guthrie dragged him toward the foreclosed house. An image of the house as a pile of rubble flashed through his mind. He slammed a door on that thought. There was an in-ground storm shelter in the back garden, built into a small mound overgrown with weeds. The old man hadn’t been wrong.

  The old man. Another thing Luke couldn’t let penetrate his mind, or he’d panic.

  Guthrie threw the storm shelter door open. It was so dark, steps leading into a hole in the ground. Guthrie yanked Luke down the stairs and slammed the door shut above them, then turned the lever handle to lock them in.

  Suffocating darkness enveloped them, and Luke automatically said, “Hello?” as if there might be someone else in there with them. Which was the creepiest thought in the whole fucking world.

  Guthrie’s breath was like a cry each time he inhaled and exhaled. “Need light,” he gasped out.

  Luke fumbled with his phone and flipped the flashlight on.

  The shelter was empty and surprisingly clean. A few dusty corners, but no skeletons or wild animals, thank God. The walls were cement and the room couldn’t have been larger than six by eight feet. Guthrie dug a tiny lantern out of his bag. It cast a wider light through the shelter.

  The man really was prepared for everything.

  Luke turned his phone light off and checked to see if he had service. He didn’t.

  Guthrie reached up to touch his ears. “I lost the headset.” His voice was thin and terrified.

  “Yeah.”

  “Phone service?”

  “No.”

  Guthrie clenched his eyes shut and breathed loudly through his nose for several seconds. Then he started chanting, “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.”

  Luke sidled closer and wrapped Guthrie in his arms. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”

  Guthrie clenched his hands in Luke’s rain jacket. Then they were kissing, Guthrie’s mouth on his so harsh and hard it made him dizzy.

  “Slow down, sweetheart. Guthrie, I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

  “No. Not okay. Please. Just—I need. Keep kissing.”

  So Luke did. Because Guthrie needed the distraction. Because Luke’s ears had popped with a pressure change. Because it felt like they were waiting to get punched, the anticipation almost worse than the reality. They grappled and touched and kissed, Guthrie’s hands a cyclone on Luke’s body. Luke pushed closer and closer until Guthrie was cushioned against the wall.

  Guthrie ripped his mouth away on a cry. But it wasn’t a good cry. It was terrified. “The wall’s vibrating.”

  Luke put his hand on the wall. He could feel it too. He flipped them around so his back was against the cement and Guthrie was in front of him.

  The move seemed to galvanize Guthrie because he pressed their groins together. Luke could practically hear the panicked siren ringing in Guthrie’s brain, and he would do anything to make it stop.

  He almost asked what Guthrie needed, but instead of asking, Luke let Guthrie take. He let Guthrie grind their cocks together, the adrenaline and fear and heat between them making them both hard. He let Guthrie tremble and pant and fuck against him. And Luke kissed Guthrie like he loved him because he was pretty sure he did. He’d give Guthrie anything. He’d do anything to protect him. Even dry hump in a storm shelter to keep him from freaking out.

  The roar of the tornado was muted. People said that tornadoes sounded like a waterfall over your head, or a freight train, or a jet engine. But this one was a low rumble, drowned out by Guthrie’s cries against his lips.

  Suddenly, Guthrie stiffened and gasped. His mouth went slack against Luke’s. It was surreal and precious to feel Guthrie come in his arms, a tornado raging above them, rending the world apart.

  Luke held Guthrie as he shivered, and Guthrie buried his face in Luke’s neck. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry.”

  Luke kissed his neck sweetly, cuddling him. Keeping him still and safe and whole. Adrenaline could screw with your body. Confuse it. Luke hadn’t been far from coming himself, not with Hurricane Guthrie rushing in, but Luke needed this more. The closeness. The hugging. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

  The rumble outside got louder, the door rattling on its hinges. Guthrie tensed.

  “Where do you want me to take you on our first date?” Luke said into his ear.

  “I—what?” Guthrie turned his head to stare at the door.

  “No. Keep your head right here.” Luke held Guthrie against his shoulder. “Listen to me. The date.”

  “I don’t know.” Guthrie’s voice was strained.

  “Rock climbing, then?”

  “No way. Choose something I’d actually enjoy.”

  “What, then?” Luke wrapped an arm tighter around Guthrie’s back and threaded the other into his tangled hair. Guthrie’s tremors slowed, his breath leveling out. Which was exactly what Luke wanted. He wanted Guthrie distracted until this was over. “A hike?”

  “I like hiking. Or camping.”

  “Oh, an overnight date. I love the sound of that. Where should we go camping? You know the area better.”

  “My favorite is Green Leaf State Park, but it’ll be miserably hot by the time tornado season is over.”

  “Then we won’t wait,” Luke said. Almost dying in a tornado could rearrange your priorities a bit.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” Luke smoothed a hand up and down Guthrie’s back. Guthrie’s breathing was mostly normal. Luke’s ears popped again, and sound rushed back in. “I think it’s over.”

  Guthrie shook his head. “I can still hear it.”

  Luke could too, but it was distant, not directly over them. He held Guthrie in his arms, rocking him slowly, kissing him often, until they were sure the world was safe outside.

  Guthrie didn’t want to go outside. He wanted to stay in this dank, damp shelter with Luke forever. But he couldn’t. The tornado had passed.

  His body didn’t understand that the danger was over. His heart was a trip-hammer in his chest, his ears ringing, his breath shattering. His brain felt like it was burning. He couldn’t focus. There was a screaming in his head, and he needed to lock it down before he walked out into a disaster zone.

  Self-preservation was key. He pulled himself out of Luke’s arms. His jeans were slightly wet in the crotch, and his cheeks flamed. He toed his shoes and pants off before slipping out of his ruined boxer briefs. He wadded them up and shoved them into the bottom of his backpack before pulling the jeans back on. Luke watched the whole pan
ts dance without expression. Guthrie’s untucked shirt covered the damp spot on his jeans. He’d normally be mortified, but there wasn’t space in his brain.

  “Ready to go?” Guthrie asked.

  “If you are.” Luke’s voice was cautious and placating.

  Guthrie couldn’t handle that emotion. He strode up the stairs, unlocked the door, and shoved it open. He wasn’t prepared, but he needed to push through this. Ride it out. Soon he could go home and freak out on his own.

  Guthrie braced himself and crawled out of the safety of their hole in the ground. The foreclosure had lost its roof and most of the second story. A massive oak tree had been uprooted and dropped on the west side of the house, caving it in.

  The house across the street was still standing. Mostly. All the windows had been blown out and the doors sucked off their hinges. It had lost a lot of its siding. Guthrie stared at it. He had been sure it’d be a pile of rubble, that the old man and his wife would be in dire trouble with only Luke and Guthrie there as first responders.

  Luke jogged across the street to the house, but Guthrie stood rooted to the spot. His stomach hurt suddenly, a rush of relief making him dizzy. Bile twisted up his throat, and he lost the contents of his stomach all over the side of the driveway. Luke must have heard him because he called out from the porch of the house.

  Guthrie waved him off. “Check on them!” he yelled. He needed a moment.

  The first house on the street was completely destroyed. When Guthrie could stand up without puking, he made his way toward it. He’d assumed no one was home earlier because there had been no cars, but that didn’t mean it was empty. He picked his way through the debris.

  “Hello?” he called, his voice hoarse. He stepped over what was left of an entertainment center. “Anyone here?”

  No answer.

  “Everyone okay? Anyone need help?”

  Wet pink insulation clung to everything. He climbed toward the back of the house, yelling.

  “Guthrie. It’s all right.”

  Guthrie glanced over his shoulder at Luke. He hadn’t heard him approach. “What?”

  “The elderly couple is okay. They said the owners of this house drove south to get out of the way of the storm.”