He couldn’t even see her any longer. She must have darted inside the barn. But that’s not any safer than being outside, Wyatt couldn’t help thinking. We need to get back to the storm cellar!
A few more strides later, Wyatt burst through the barn door to find Alison pulling Duncan by his collar.
It was then that Wyatt heard a noise like a freight train barreling toward them. And soon the barn began to shake.
“We have to find something to cover us!” Wyatt shouted. “Something big and heavy. The tornado’s about to hit!”
“But we have to get back to the cellar!” Alison protested, her eyes wide with fear.
“There’s no time!” Wyatt looked around for anything that could offer protection. In the aisle of the barn, near some stacks of hay, he spotted a garden tractor with a small utility trailer hitched behind it. “Under there!” He grabbed Alison by the elbow and shoved her toward the trailer.
Alison took a flying leap toward the trailer, rolling underneath. “Duncan, come here, boy. Come here!” She pounded the ground, pleading. Duncan crawled under with her. The barn began to creak and groan. Wyatt took a quick look out the open barn door. The sky was dark, as if night had suddenly fallen. He flung himself under the trailer, too.
Wyatt didn’t know how the churning, rumbling noise could grow any louder, but it did. Spooky whistling filled the air. Farm tools crashed and pounded against the walls of the barn. They were under attack.
On Alison’s side, bales of hay buffered her from the chaos, but Duncan couldn’t stop panting and whimpering from where he lay between the cousins. One of the goats nervously bleated a low maaaaaaa, reminding Wyatt that the other animals weren’t as protected as Duncan. Licorice’s stall was across the aisle and Wyatt heard his shrill neigh, his frenzied kicking against the walls of his stall.
“Whoa, boy! Whoa!” Wyatt called out, trying to calm Licorice. He was frightened that his horse would end up hurting himself.
But Licorice could not be calmed — the kicking continued until a crack and a crashing boomed over the ruckus of the storm. Wyatt listened helplessly to the sound of thundering hooves as his horse fled from the barn.
How soon would the twister be on top of them, ripping everything in Wyatt’s life apart? Each second seemed like an eternity.
“I’m sorry!” Alison yelled in an effort to be heard above the noise. “I shouldn’t have left the cellar. I was just worried about Duncan, but I should have listened to you.”
Wyatt wanted to scold her, but she looked so helpless and scared. He started to tell her it was okay when a section of the roof suddenly ripped from the barn walls with an explosive whoosh. Feed buckets, saddles, bridles, and bales of hay tumbled around them. Alison went silent, and Wyatt knew apologies didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered. The tornado was here and there was nothing that could be done about it. The trailer they were hiding under clanked and pinged as items small and large pelted it from every side.
A moment later a giant arm of pressure grasped at Wyatt. He clung to the edge of the undercarriage in a desperate attempt to keep from being sucked out from under the trailer.
“I’ve got you!” Alison reached over Duncan, wrapping her arms around her cousin’s neck.
Wyatt instantly knew that was a mistake. She would be sucked into the tornado along with him. “Let go!” he said.
“I won’t! Wrap your legs around the rod connecting the wheels. That’s what I’m doing!” Alison screamed in his ear.
Wyatt felt around for the axle and looped a leg over it, crossing his ankles as a powerful gust picked up the trailer, along with Alison and Wyatt. They were hovering above the ground!
He clung to the trailer, but felt himself slipping. Stubborn Alison refused to let go of his neck. Wyatt could barely breathe as he watched the trailer hitch give way and break loose from the tractor.
They were flying, and then, with a sudden jolt, the trailer dropped to the ground just as the awful churning noise of the freight train died. Wyatt and Alison stared at each other for a moment, the air knocked from their lungs, both too stunned to speak. Alison still had him in a death grip.
“I think you can let go of me now,” Wyatt finally said.
Alison gave a sheepish grin, which quickly faded when she noticed the empty space between them. “Duncan!” she gasped. “What happened to Duncan!”
Wyatt and Alison scampered out from under the trailer, looking around in shock at the devastation that met them. A big patch of roof had indeed been ripped completely off the barn. The family’s two four-wheelers had been flipped onto their sides, a good thirty feet away from where they’d been parked. Bales of hay and straw lay busted and strewn, creating a spotty carpet of gold and green. The air was dusty and thick. A pitchfork speared the top of one of the horse stall doors, as if a giant had hurled it at the beasts and missed, striking wood instead. Molasses stuck his head above the door, with big dazed eyes. He snorted. Cream Puff and S’more made their presence known, too, whinnying to each other.
“Where’s Licorice?” Alison asked.
“Gone,” Wyatt said. “I heard him kick down his door right before the tornado struck.” The enormity of what had just happened suddenly hit Wyatt now that the immediate danger of the tornado was gone. Memories of barrel races and cutting cattle on top of his trusty friend flooded his mind. Wyatt took a ragged breath. His cheeks felt hot. Licorice was fast and he could turn on a dime. Could he have made it? Wyatt clung to hope, but still a sense of grief poured through him.
Alison began to cry, mumbling something about Duncan and Licorice, but she quickly pulled herself together and looked at her cousin. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Wyatt. I almost got you killed.”
Wyatt didn’t feel in the mood to hold a grudge. Too much had happened. “You held on to me. You saved me,” he said. “We’re both here, despite the tornado, and we should focus on that. Let’s go find Joshua and Jackson and make sure they’re okay, too.”
As Wyatt and Alison made their way out of the barn, picking through the once neat and now littered aisle, they passed the spot where the trailer had been. The nearby bales of hay were no longer stacked in orderly rows. Some had blown away, while others remained in jumbled disarray.
In a small nook created by some of the bales, a flash of white fur could be seen.
“Duncan!” Alison shouted.
The excited dog crawled out and ran over to her. She dropped to her knees and hugged him tightly as he licked her face in greeting. Wyatt bent over and patted Duncan on the head, glad to see his old friend, too.
But soon Duncan broke away from Alison and ran over to the goat pens. He needed to check on his little herd. Wyatt and Alison followed him.
The metal pens were mangled and the goats were huddled together near the wall. Duncan sniffed each one until he’d made sure they were all okay. Wyatt and Alison left him in charge and stepped outside.
Whew! Wyatt let out a big sigh of relief at the sight of his house. It was still standing, though many of the windows were shattered and the front porch was pretty much gone. Only two walls of the detached garage still stood. The rest had been completely destroyed. Wyatt knew how much worse it could have been. But once he saw the storm cellar doors at the side of the house, his heart sank. They were wide open.
Did that mean Joshua and Jackson didn’t stay inside like he told them to and instead tried to follow them to the barn? Had they been caught in the tornado, swept away?
Wyatt was about to panic when the two brothers appeared from behind the remaining walls of the detached garage. They ran up to Wyatt and Alison, relief pulling at the corners of their eyes.
“Oh gosh, we thought you guys were goners! We were just heading to the barn to look for you,” Joshua said breathlessly.
“When the tornado hit, we heard crazy noises from inside the cellar,” Jackson added. “It sounded like the whole farm was just obliterated, and we were scared something bad had happened to you!”
“We w
ere in the barn, hiding under a trailer,” Wyatt explained. “Thank goodness the barn didn’t collapse or we actually would have been goners.” Now that he and his friends had found one another he looked off into the distance to take stock of the situation. He saw dark skies, a flash of lightning, but no funnel cloud.
Jackson looked around, too, brushing back his long hair from his eyes. “The tornado. There’s no sign of it. It must have dissipated.”
But Wyatt knew his father had gone out to the east pasture to mend fence — which was the direction the tornado had been heading.
It dawned on Wyatt that he had his cell phone in his back pocket. He quickly took it out and punched in his father’s number, but he got no answer. The line didn’t even ring. “Can’t reach my dad,” he told the others. “The tornado must have taken out the nearest cell phone tower. I need to go find him. Make sure he is okay.” It would take forever to walk out there, but the two four-wheelers in the barn had looked okay even though they’d tipped. If even one of them was still functional, maybe he could ride it out to the east pasture.
* * *
It took some muscle, but eventually the four kids were able to lift both four-wheelers upright. The keys still dangled from the ignition, and though the frames were a little bent, each one started just fine. Wyatt thought he’d be going by himself, but everyone insisted on joining him in case Mr. Anderson was in some sort of trouble, so he relented.
“Alison, you can ride with me,” Wyatt said as climbed aboard one and motioned behind him.
“Okay,” she said nervously as she hopped on and grabbed him tightly around the waist. “I’ve never ridden on one of these things.”
“If you can manage to cling to a trailer in a tornado, this’ll be a piece of cake.” Wyatt couldn’t help but grin.
Joshua and Jackson climbed aboard the other four-wheeler, and soon the group was easing their way around the debris that littered the yard. Once they were out in the open, Wyatt gunned it.
It was a fast, bumpy ride, but Wyatt was in a hurry to check on his dad. They slowed down briefly to weave around some cattle and later to splash through a creek bed, the water soaking their legs. But when they were in open pasture, Wyatt kept his head down and his focus clear — he was going full throttle all the way.
After about fifteen minutes, Wyatt saw his dad’s white pickup truck headed their way. He was okay! His dad was okay!
All at once he noticed Joshua and Jackson weren’t racing beside him on their four-wheeler. He thought he heard one of them shout. Wyatt slowed to a stop and glanced backward.
The other four-wheeler was parked a dozen yards back. Jackson sat paralyzed, looking up at the sky, his face as pale as if he had seen a ghost.
Wyatt tilted his head up in the direction Jackson was looking, and his jaw dropped. A wide patch of clouds swirled between the four-wheelers and his father’s approaching truck. A wisp of smoky white spun and quickly inched its way down, stretching toward the ground like a great reaching hand. Wyatt didn’t know whether to feel terror or astonishment. A second tornado was forming right before his very eyes. It was happening again. He sat on the four-wheeler, spellbound by the strangely majestic sight.
“Wyatt,” Alison whispered. “What are we going to do?”
Wyatt didn’t know what to say. They were in the middle of miles of open range. This time, there was nowhere for them to go. Nowhere for them to hide.
Within seconds the tornado had hit the ground, darkening the area where the narrow bottom of the funnel touched down. It was only about a half mile away, Wyatt figured, and it appeared to be headed their way.
“We need to get out of here!” he shouted at Joshua and Jackson. “Hold on tight!” he yelled over his shoulder at Alison as he spun the four-wheeler around. Joshua and Jackson quickly followed suit. Maybe they could outrace the twister. It was their only hope.
Wyatt hit a bump in the pasture and the four-wheeler went airborne, sailing sideways across the field. Alison screamed and he felt her slipping off the seat, but her arms clamped down tighter around his waist, and somehow she held on as Wyatt clung to the handlebars. They landed with a thud but didn’t even have time to breathe a sigh of relief. They had to keep moving forward.
By now, the roar of the Petree brothers’ engine was almost totally drowned out by the ever-increasing wind. Wyatt felt as if a gigantic lion was angrily chasing them. He turned his head to look. The tornado had drawn closer. It was whipping along the countryside faster than the four-wheelers could go. Suddenly the cloud of dust that fanned out around the bottom of the funnel began to envelop them, making it difficult for Wyatt to see. A rock that had been picked up by the strong vortex hurtled past him, grazing his leg. It hit the front fender of his four-wheeler with a clang, leaving a deep dent.
The tornado hadn’t reached them yet, but it’d become as dangerous as an exploding bomb. Its uncaring winds turned the ordinary rocks and branches that dotted the pasture into projectile missiles. Wyatt knew they needed to get as low to the ground as possible to avoid being hit.
Ahead of the whirling mist of kicked up dirt, he caught a glimpse of the creek in the shallow ravine that they’d passed through earlier, and he braked as hard as he could.
“What’s wrong?” Jackson shouted as he and Joshua slowed down beside them. “We need to keep going!”
“We can’t beat it! Make a run for the ravine and lie flat!” Wyatt shouted back. He jumped off the four-wheeler and grabbed Alison by the hand, dragging her along until she began to match his stride.
Once Wyatt reached the creek, he flung himself next to the water’s edge and let go of Alison’s hand. “Cover your head with your arms!” he barked.
Joshua and Jackson did the same, and the four lay in a row as the wind became more violent. Wyatt peeked sideways at Alison just as an old horseshoe struck the ground between them. They both flinched, but remained flattened against the earth.
Then Wyatt heard the dreaded rumble of the twister approaching. A frightened wail came from Joshua, who was stretched out on the other side of Wyatt.
Wyatt faced him. “Are you okay?” he shouted. He felt like they were in the middle of some war movie. Soldiers in a foxhole. But the enemy was Mother Nature.
Joshua nodded, his arms cradling his head. “I’m just scared,” he yelled. “We’re not going to make it.”
Wyatt was scared, too, but he tried to calm his friend. “Hang on! It’ll be over soon.”
The tornado would be on top of them in a matter of seconds. It would batter them. Fling them like rag dolls. There’s nothing to cling to, Wyatt thought, except for hope.
It took a second to register, but the noise suddenly seemed to grow quieter instead of louder. The thundering roar was retreating and the gusting wind became less angry. Was it losing strength? Wyatt poked his head up. The dust seemed to be settling, so after a moment he leapt to his feet and scrambled up the side of the ravine. He expected to see a vanishing wisp of what once was. But that was not the sight that met him.
“No!” he shouted in disbelief. “It can’t be!”
By this time Alison, Joshua, and Jackson had followed him, and the four kids stood frozen with a mixture of horror and relief. Beyond where they’d ditched their four-wheelers, the tornado loomed just as large, ominous, and awful as it had before. But it had changed course. It wasn’t heading their way … it was careening straight for Wyatt’s father.
His dad’s truck was much closer than when they’d first noticed the tornado forming. I bet he chased after us, Wyatt thought. And now the tornado was barreling toward the white truck. He watched helplessly as the truck screeched to a stop, and began speeding backward.
Wyatt took a few steps forward, but Alison grabbed his arm. “It’s too late. Oh, Uncle Ted!” she sobbed.
Wyatt put his arm around her and they both watched in horror as the tornado picked up the truck and tossed it like a toy, flipping it in the air and dropping it back to the ground in its wake.
Wy
att’s heart leapt to his throat as he jumped on his four-wheeler. Alison slid on behind him. Without a word, Joshua and Jackson revved up their four-wheeler, too, and they were off, heading for the truck, which had finally come to rest.
Wyatt kept hoping he’d see a figure crawl out the side window. Anything that would signal his father was okay. But all was still around the truck as the tornado raged on in the distance.
Though it took less than five minutes to reach the crumpled, dented pickup, it was the longest ride of Wyatt’s life. As soon as they were close enough, he flung himself off the four-wheeler in a mad dash to find his father. He should have been scared at what he might see, but his adrenaline was pumping and instinct took over. “Dad!” he yelled.
Wyatt dropped to his knees and peered through the broken window on the driver’s side. Alison crouched beside him while Jackson and Joshua stood a short way behind.
“What are we going to do? What are we going to do?” Joshua’s voice rang out in a panic. “What if Mr. Anderson is dead?”
Alison turned to shush him. “Getting hysterical won’t help anything. We need to stay calm!”
Mr. Anderson lay sprawled inside the truck. Everything was topsy-turvy. The bench seat and steering wheel hung over his body. And he wasn’t moving.
“Dad! Dad!” Wyatt screamed. He reached through the shattered glass and touched his father’s shoulder.
Mr. Anderson groaned and lifted his head. His forehead was bleeding and when he reached up to touch the spot, he grimaced. But soon he was smiling broadly. “Wyatt, thank God you are okay!” Then he noticed the others, who were staring at him with concern. “Y’all, too!” He pushed away some shards of glass from the window and struggled to scooch out. But before long, he stopped and grimaced again.
“What is it, Dad?” Wyatt asked.
“My ankle. It hurts. Worse than my head.”
Tornado Alley Page 2