by Molly E. Lee
I opened my mouth, letting him in, relishing the feel of his warm tongue mixed with the cold rain that drenched us both. We were only getting wetter, but I didn’t push him away; instead I yanked him closer, our hips pressing against each other. He explored my body everywhere his hands could reach—and with total abandon. I’d finally lifted the restraints on the passion we’d bottled up for way too long. I felt like I was about to burst like the storm that had gathered around us to shake the world.
I shook now, trembled with delight as I sucked Dash’s tongue into my mouth. His fingers slipped into my jeans, and he pressed against my warmth with his rain-soaked fingers. I gasped, his mouth still on mine as he rubbed against me, drawing out a delicious tension that made my thighs quiver. A deep pulse throbbed low in my belly, and all I wanted to do was drop to the ground and have Dash on me, in me, consuming me.
Dash jerked his head back, his green eyes sparking with matched lust. We were on the same page as usual. I tucked my hand low between us, exploring the length of him, and smiled when he growled. He moved to my mouth again, an inch from my lips, and then the sky screamed.
Thunder clapped so loud and close it shook my chest like a hit with a sledgehammer.
Reality crashed down all around us, harder than the downpour.
We’d been careless getting caught up in the moment like that.
Dangerous.
The storm had arrived, on top of us like I ached for Dash to be on me.
And it was show time.
The funnel clouds I’d spotted earlier had dropped lower and combined sometime in our distraction. In seconds it met the ground, forming a tornado, at least one hundred and fifty yards wide. It quickly churned up a massive amount of earth. The horrible roaring sound of a freight train screeched through the sky.
My heart jumped into my throat. I’d never seen a tornado so big or so beautiful. Even over five hundred yards away, the wind soared past Dash and I, flapping my hair back and forth wildly. I glanced at Dash, shocked he’d had the presence to get his camera out when I could only stand in awe.
The tornado moved with an elegant fierceness that both mesmerized and terrified me. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, pumping my heart against my chest so hard I thought it would bust. My limbs shook—the fight or flight instinct battling within—and my brain called me an idiot for not taking cover.
It was spectacular the way the beast snaked from the clouds in the sky and pierced the ground beneath it. And in that moment I understood why Dash was here, why he didn’t want to miss this. I clutched his free hand.
Dash went rigid and jerked his hand away. He tossed the camera in his truck and grabbed my waist, pulling me around to the other side of it.
“It’s changing course!” he yelled and shoved me into the passenger seat.
My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the seatbelt, all the giddy sensations leaving my body quicker than a blink. As I looked out of the windshield at the massive monster headed toward us, I remembered the stupidity of being out here.
Dash slammed the door, buckled up, and spun his truck around. The tires splayed mud all over my car, and I only spared half a thought as to what would become of it. He peeled out, speeding down the way I’d come in, but not fast enough. The wet earth sucked on the truck’s motion and threatened to stop our retreat all together.
The back end of the truck jerked suddenly, as if the Hulk had grabbed ahold of Dash’s tailgate. The force slammed us against our locked seatbelts. A wallop of heat burst in my chest from the abrupt halt. The back wheels squealed, Dash’s foot placed firmly on the gas. We looked at each other and then backward.
We were entirely too close. The massive churning beast stalked right behind us, stretching across the road and field. The truck’s back end was caught in the outer suction vortex of the tornado, but the primary would swallow us whole in seconds.
I grabbed Dash’s hand, which gripped the steering wheel. “What’s your real name?” I shouted and clenched my eyes shut.
“What?”
“We’re about to die, Dash! I love you and want to know your real name!” I screamed over the rushing sound of the wind threatening to consume us. I thought of my mother and Hail. I hoped they knew how much I loved them.
“No! We’re not going to die!” he shouted back.
The tires screeched and the smell of hot rubber filled the cab before the truck suddenly took off. I popped my eyes open, shocked that Dash gained speed and fishtailed all over the dirt road.
I spun in my seat and scanned the area behind us. The tornado let us go, but kept chasing us in a terrifying role reversal. Dash sped down the road, taking a hard turn onto the paved road that led toward the town. We gained a tiny bit of distance, but the beast took up the entire back view of Dash’s truck. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and once I separated sheer terror from duty, I reached down for Dash’s camera.
I’d barely pressed the record button before Dash took another fast turn.
“Fuck!” he screamed, the tires squelching in the background, Dash losing control of the truck as he tried to slow our momentum.
I whipped my head around just in time to see us crash head on into a telephone pole. The sound of metal and glass crunching broke through the roaring wind and pouring rain, and I was jerked so hard forward and back my head slammed into the back of the seat.
Stars burst behind my eyes, but the adrenaline quickly cleared the stun of the crash.
“Are you all right?” Dash already had his seatbelt unbuckled and reached over to me.
“I’m fine,” I assured him with a gasping breath, my heart racing.
He turned the key over and over, but the truck was dead. He glanced behind him. “We’ve got no time. I was heading to that gas station.” He pointed to where a gas station sat empty only a parking lot length away. “Run. Now!”
He didn’t leave room for a discussion. Neither did the screeching beast behind us. I bolted out of the door, my feet shaking with adrenaline as they hit the pavement. Dash stuck close behind me as the wind whipped my hair back and forth, suctioning my clothes to my body. It was like running against an ocean current, and the short distance to the station became an Olympic event. Dash pushed at my back the entire time, forcing me to go faster, until we finally made it.
The lights were off inside and the doors wouldn’t budge.
“Damn it!” I screamed, yanking on the handle as if my strength and determination could break the locks.
Dash was two steps ahead of me, grabbing a huge rock that held down a fat, three-foot-high stack of newspapers left out for what I assumed was recycling, and smashed the glass door. He kicked the rest of it in, and we clambered through, rushing toward the back of the store where the access to the large cooler stood.
I jerked open the door, chills instantly covering my wet skin as we entered the cooler. Dash slammed the door shut, pushing me to the farthest back wall, the only spot in the station that could be considered the most interior.
I dropped to my knees in the corner, Dash kneeling next to me, and hoped the three walls made of strong metal would withstand the tornado. The wide variety of soda bottles rattled in their cases, the doors on the outside opening and closing frantically. The energy pumping through my veins made my entire body tremble, and I locked eyes with Dash, an apology on my lips.
He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but was cut off when the roaring sound outside reached an epic high.
It was here.
And it would swallow this place.
The heavy weight of Dash’s body fell on top of me then, pinning me to the ground as I heard the glass from the cooler doors break, and the thunking sound of hundreds of plastic bottles hitting the ground. I felt Dash jerk above me, but couldn’t hear if he said anything. I could only lay there, praying for the sound of the wind to go silent.
After an eternity—or a few minutes—it finally did. Dash rolled off me, and hissed as he grabbed his leg.
I quickly
jumped up as he yanked a four-inch piece of glass out of the back of his thigh with a yelp.
“Dash!” I instantly covered the wound with my hands. His blood pooled beneath my fingers, warm and sticky.
“It’s fine, Blake.”
“No it’s not! You’re hurt. Because of me!” Damn it, he wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t feel the need to protect me.
“It’s not your fault I chose to take shelter in a fucking glass box.”
I shook my head, pressing harder on the wound. “You wouldn’t have even chased this storm if I hadn’t pushed you away.” Tears filled my eyes, knowing his more-than-reckless behavior had been a direct result of me.
He cupped my cheek, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Stop. You can’t keep taking the blame for everything, woman. You know I would’ve chased this every time.”
I sighed. Maybe. We’d never know, because I’d do everything in my power to talk him off monsters like these. Or at least get him to compromise to chasing from a safer distance. Fuck we’d been too close. I peeled my hand away from the wound to look closer. If this had been the same spot on the front of his thigh, instead of the back, Dash could’ve bled out in my arms.
The injury wasn’t life threatening, but the danger was real. We’d been lucky.
I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. And I knew that didn’t make a difference because we would never stop chasing and the storms would never stop chasing us back.
I yanked off my T-shirt, leaving me in the spaghetti-strap tank top I wore beneath it, and twisted and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Dash flinched as I secured it, but then he reached for me.
“Blake.” He sighed my name like it was a prayer. Like after nearly being eaten by a tornado it was the only word he ever wanted to say again. And I melted. Fell into his open arms, pressing my chest against his, and kissing the hell out of him.
I kissed him hard enough to convey my love, hard enough to show him my anger at his recklessness, and hard enough to take the blame for not being able to talk him out of this storm. He tugged on my hair, yanking me closer, and I gasped against his lips.
The heat between my thighs had me aching to let him in, let him be as close as humanly possible, but the realization of where we were stopped me. I slowly pulled back, my chest heaving.
Dash gave me a look that was both disappointment and understanding. “We have to search the damage. See if there are any victims.”
“Can you walk?” I asked, standing up and offering him a hand.
He took it and stood, wincing but able to walk with a limp.
I forced his arm across my shoulder, bearing as much of his weight as I could. Together we walked out of the cooler—careful not to trip on the hundreds of soda bottles littering the floor—into the gas station, which no longer had an entrance. The tiled floor, covered in candy, napkins, boxes, drinks, and broken glass, simply gave way to the parking lot outside, the glass and metal front of the building had been completely wiped out.
WE STOPPED AT his truck first, shocked it still stood, if not crashed against the telephone pole. Dash reached underneath the driver’s seat, pulling out a small first-aid kit.
“There’s one on the other side, too,” he said, motioning with his head for me to go grab it. I did and forced Dash to stand still as I ripped open the tear in his jeans a bit more, giving me room to swipe the cut with an alcohol wipe and seal it with a butterfly bandage. I forced myself not to linger, holding his muscled thigh in my hand, and he gave me a small smirk when he saw the heat in my eyes. I tossed my now ruined bloody T-shirt in the cab of his truck and then we slowly made our way into the residential part of the town, which wasn’t far from the gas station where we’d desperately taken shelter.
It was almost too quiet after the thunderous noise the storm had made. Now the only sounds that broke the calm settling in the sky were distant sirens, wood snapping, and the occasional bark of a dog. I’d expected screaming or cries for help. This was worse. I scanned the area for the Tracker Jacker, coming up empty.
I punched John’s number again on my cell, cursing the busy signal I received. “That’s the fourth time. Same damn signal.”
“They’re smart. Probably on the other side of town already helping with the search,” Dash said, reading my worried gaze. “If we get separated, we meet back here, all right?” He pointed to his truck. “You have your cell,” he eyed me clutching it. “Who knows if you’ll get through, but if we find anyone hurt we’ll need to notify emergency personnel. And watch for fallen power lines.”
I nodded. “All right.”
A toppled tree blocked our path to the first group of residential houses. The roots twisted out in all directions and black dirt clods clung to them like the remnants of torn flesh. Dash placed a palm on the thick trunk and climbed over it, trying to hide his wince when his feet hit the ground on the other side.
I followed suit, climbing over it before Dash could turn around to offer me help. He surveyed the area with sharp eyes. I was jealous of his stoic calm demeanor and made a mental note to take the same first-responder courses he had as soon as possible. My hands trembled while holding the first-aid kit to my chest. He must have done this dozens of times, but this was completely new territory for me.
He pointed toward a group of homes that had been hit to our right. Some of the structures were still easily identifiable, but the insides were gutted. What had once made these buildings homes were scattered about the area, spilling out like someone had reached in and ripped out a handful of organs.
“We start there and spread out to cover more ground,” he said as he limped in that direction. I kept pace with him, my heart racing. “Be careful where you step. People may be covered with debris.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and slowed several yards past where Dash stopped.
I approached the walls of a concrete basement, which without the house sitting on top of it, looked like a giant trap for a massive animal. Broken wood with wickedly jagged edges covered the surrounding area, some long pieces sticking up out of the basement as if someone were about to light the biggest bonfire ever known.
Careful where I stepped, I tried to find the ground between the debris and make myself lighter than air. I navigated my way over dirty dish towels, a broken dog bowl, and a mangled bed frame. Ripped-up magazines, busted baby-blue dishes, and dirt-covered pillows also littered the area. I scanned past these items, so out of place in the shredded pieces of this home, and searched for movement.
I glanced back at Dash, his eyes trained on the ground as well. A low whine snapped me to attention and I whirled my head toward the noise. Behind an upturned cedar hutch I found a shaggy dog with soaking wet brown fur. Its back leg was caught underneath a chunk of wood that looked like it could’ve been an attic beam.
Tiptoeing to it, I gently shimmied the wood until its leg came free. The dog instantly headed a few feet away, limping across two couch cushions with the stuffing spewing out of them. He stopped next to what I could now see was a toilet, though broken bits of wood half covered it as well. I made my way over quickly.
The dog pushed its nose deep into the pile of wood, whimpering more than when I had freed its leg. I gently nudged him away and my heart leapt into my throat.
A dirt-covered hand clung to one side of the toilet. Adrenaline filled my veins and I hurried to scoot the wood off the person, checking the surrounding areas for other people before I let the beams fall in the other direction.
Pitch-black hair plastered to the woman’s forehead and she wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a purple hoodie. Blood streamed down the right side of her face.
I lifted the final beam off the toilet and stepped closer to where she lay curled up with her arms around the base. Glancing down as my boots crunched on glass, I noticed at least a dozen picture frames of various sizes. Half were broken and their pictures ripped, others remained intact. I knelt down and carefully placed my hand on the woman’s neck and breathed a sigh of re
lief when a steady thumping met my fingers.
The dog limped around to the other side and licked the woman’s face furiously before I could stop him. She jerked hard and her eyes popped open. The panic in them was evident, but when she took in her surroundings, pain filled them enough to break my heart. She tried to move, but I stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Ma’am, you shouldn’t move.” I flipped open the lid of the first-aid kit and rummaging through it. “Everything is going to be all right,” I assured her, though I knew that was stupid to say when her entire house was a pile of broken pieces that couldn’t possibly ever fit together in the same way again.
“I waited too long,” she moaned.
I shook my head and ripped open a disinfectant wipe and cleaned the blood off her face. “You got to the bathroom. That was smart.” I found the source of the blood. An inch-long gash near her hairline. The cut was clean so I assumed a shard of glass from one of the picture frames had been the culprit. I dabbed at the wound and sealed it as best I could with a butterfly bandage from the kit.
“No.” She sighed. “I should’ve been in the basement. I’d gotten everything down there me and my dog would need. Food, water, flashlights, and radio . . . but I forgot my pictures.” She clenched her eyes shut. “Stupid. I thought I had enough time to grab them and get back downstairs. I told George to stay down there, that I’d be right back.” Her eyes landed on the dog dutifully sitting by her side despite the pain I imagined it caused his leg. “You should’ve minded me.”
From where I’d found him he was only a few feet away from getting to her in the bathroom before the tornado hit. Amazing he’d survived at all. I lifted the woman’s hand and placed it on his back. “Thank you,” she said. “Did my pictures make it?”
I looked down and tried not to crunch any more glass as I searched for one. I found a small unbroken frame with a picture of two little blond girls who couldn’t be over the age of three. Their faces filled the frame, both grinning widely. I held it above her face. “Looks like most of them survived.”