“Here we go,” said Ron.
Sam had a better view from his chair than the O’Neills had from the floor. He looked out the side window and whistled. “Check out these beauties. Hold it right here, J.J., I wanna get some wide shots.”
He flipped up the side door. Warm wind rushed in, strong but not overwhelming. Sam grabbed a handheld camera from somewhere and hopped out.
Blair followed him.
She barely heard David say, “Blair, stay in the van—”
She was already outside, staring at the view.
They were on a narrow dirt road now, far from the highway. Blair could see a cluster of buildings in the distance. A white-gray farmhouse, a red barn, a tall grain silo. The house looked about the size of her thumbnail, so she guessed it was at least half a mile away. And maybe two football fields to the right of the buildings, she saw—what, exactly? She wasn’t sure.
Mini-tornadoes. Or ghost tornadoes. Four or five slender white funnels. Rising out of the ground but not quite connecting with the swollen, churning cloud above them. Each narrow funnel seemed to bend and sway in its own rhythm. One funnel faded away completely, like mist, in half a second. Then another materialized out of thin air.
Sam was filming with his little camera. “Aw, man, look at those vortices!”
“I didn’t know there could be more than one vortex,” Blair murmured.
“Oh yeah. Amazing, isn’t it?”
Blair wasn’t comfortable admitting it, but—yeah. It was kind of amazing.
It was like a dance—the graceful swaying of these wispy, thin funnels. From this distance, she couldn’t hear anything unusual. No threatening roar, no rain or hail striking objects on the ground, no glass shattering. Just a steady, regular wind. The weaving motions of the vortices looked almost peaceful. They seemed to be taking their time. Performing.
And this could just happen. Several times a day, even. Like it was no big deal.
One of the mini-twisters veered to the left, toward the farm. It seemed to sweep gently over the barn. Blair almost didn’t realize what had happened.
Then she saw the debris.
The building just flew apart. Walls, roof, everything lifted into the air and orbited around the vortex, looking feather-light.
“Ohmygod,” Blair gasped, all in one breath. “That barn—”
“Yeah, that looks rough,” said Sam. “Good thing it was just the barn. Hope nobody was inside.”
“Blair, get back in here!” shouted David.
But Blair couldn’t move. Her eyes were glued to those delicate, deadly spirals on the horizon. She watched as the vortices drifted closer together. They made her think of strands of hair on the verge of weaving together in a braid.
“Oh man,” breathed Sam. “Moment of truth.”
Suddenly one vortex seemed to grow wider, more solid. A couple of the other vortices wisped up into the spiraling cloud overhead. The rest seemed to feed into the main vortex. All the energy from the cloud now went straight into this single, full-sized funnel. One giant white vortex.
At least it looked giant to Blair. Maybe it was only another EF-2.
Ron leaned out his window. “Sam, looks like it’s moving northeast, like normal.”
“Right.” Sam clapped a hand on Blair’s shoulder. Personal boundaries clearly weren’t this guy’s strong point. “Better get moving again,” he said. “Let’s see how close we can get.”
Blair shrugged his hand away. “Aren’t you worried about that farm?”
“I don’t control the weather.” He jumped back into the Boss. “I just follow it.”
Blair followed him back into the vehicle, not bothering to point out that this wasn’t actually an answer.
Five seconds later, J.J. was driving toward the new tornado.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said David. “You need to get closer? This is insane.”
“Aw yeah.” Sam was back in his chair. His eyes darted between the side window and the roadmap on his screen. “This one’s a beast. Hang a left up here, J.J. We’ll come at it from the side.”
“Careful,” said Ron. “It’s moving fast.”
Blair scooted toward the side window. If she rose up on her knees and craned her neck, she could see out. The funnel was moving away from the farm. J.J. was gaining on it. The van bounced along, in and out of mud-filled ruts.
Ron again: “It’s turning, J.J. It’s turning around!”
“Okay,” said Sam. “You can make a right turn in a few hundred feet. That’ll get us out of its path—”
J.J. hit the brakes. “Tree trunk. Right across the road. I gotta back up.” She put the Boss in reverse. “Where’s the closest side road behind us, Sam?”
“Uh, about three hundred yards back . . .”
Now Blair saw it. The turning. The gentle arc of movement as the twister switched directions.
Sam drew a harsh breath through clenched teeth. “Holy—we’re in a really bad spot. Make it fast, J.J.”
“I’m going as fast as I—”
The Boss stopped moving.
7
“Get us out of here, J.J.!” Sam shouted.
“I’m trying! We’re in a rut! These freaking farm roads . . .”
“You’re going to get us killed!” David yelled.
“Shut up, David!”
The words burst out of Blair before she knew what she was saying. David just stared at her. She stared back, as stunned as he was. “You’re not helping,” she added in a feeble voice.
David’s whole body seemed to shrink slightly.
When was the last time Blair had shouted at her older brother? The last time they’d had a fight, a real fight? She doubted either of them could remember.
J.J. rolled the Boss forward, then backed up again with more momentum. The van dipped as it went into the ditch again, then rose and kept moving. Blair looked out the window again.
The tornado cruised toward them. Blair watched as it glided straight through the farmhouse.
More debris free-floating in the air. Blair felt sick to her stomach.
“Here, right here! Here’s the side road!” Sam called to J.J.
J.J. made a hard left turn and zoomed forward again. She made so many more turns in the next minute that Blair lost track.
“It’s shifting again,” said Ron. “Hold up, J.J. Let’s see what it does next.”
Blair didn’t breathe. She just waited, with everyone else in the van.
Slowly, she registered that the tornado was changing directions again. It was moving away from them.
“Okay, let’s move in again,” said Sam.
Blair couldn’t imagine doing this all the time. Get close, retreat. Get close again. Hold your breath and hope you’re making the right call. Wait to find out if you die.
J.J. retraced the Boss’s route, looping around the path with the fallen tree. The storm was rolling away fast now.
Blair’s eyes locked on the farmhouse.
Or at least, what was left of the farmhouse. It was now a pile of rubble. Wooden frames and pieces of siding looked like splintered toothpicks. Blair saw scarred patches of ground where other buildings—the barn, the silo—had been ripped away. The surrounding land—wheat stalks and all—had been flattened.
“We stopping, Sam?” asked J.J.
Sam hesitated. “We’ll lose the storm . . .”
“Are you kidding me?” Blair burst out. “We have to stop! What if someone’s trapped in there?”
“I know, I know, take it easy.” Sam let out a weary sigh. “Pull in, J.J. See what’s up.”
J.J. turned onto the narrow, rutted dirt track that led to the house. Blair felt the Boss’s tires grinding over debris, but J.J. didn’t slow down. She’s used to this, Blair thought. Not just the chase and the storm itself. The aftermath. They’re all used to it. They must see disasters like this all the time.
The Boss rolled to a stop in front of the wreckage. Sam released the locks on the side door and pushe
d it up. Everyone jumped out. Logan brought the first aid kit. Blair noticed that no one had to tell him to.
Up close, the ruined house looked even worse. Blair could see actual objects—bits and pieces of ordinary household items. To her left: part of a chair. To her right: half a picture frame. Straight in front of her: a toaster oven. Ten minutes ago these things had all been whole. Now they were garbage. Blair remembered the time in elementary school when Logan ripped up her art project. He’d had a tantrum because she was too busy to play with him. In the blink of an eye he’d ruined hours of work. She’d been furious . . .
Sam cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Hello? Anybody here?”
Silence.
A heavy sludge seemed to settle in Blair’s gut. How could anyone survive this?
“Maybe no one was home,” said Logan in a small voice.
“We’ll find out for sure,” said Sam grimly. “Spread out. And be careful—no fancy stunts. Watch out for glass, nails, sharp stuff. If we find somebody who’s trapped, we’ll call 911. If we find a body, we’ll try to pull it out.”
Sam’s carefree attitude was completely gone. He might as well have flipped a switch.
“You stay here, Logan,” said David. “Hold on to that first aid kit in case we need it.”
Logan nodded. He didn’t push to be included in the search. Blair half-expected David to ask her to hang back with Logan. But he just gave her a look that seemed resigned and proud at the same time. Blair thought of how she’d shouted at him a minute ago. She’d spent so many years being David’s backup, his “copilot.” But today she was the one calling the shots, and for the first time, he seemed willing to accept that.
At first they all just circled the outer edge of the house. Blair kept her eyes peeled for a hand, a foot, a flash of hair. Just like lifeguarding, when she had to scan the water for bobbing heads and flailing arms.
Then J.J. waded into the mess, stepping over splintered wood and chunks of insulation. Sam followed her lead. They picked their way toward the center of the house. Blair watched them for a minute—watched how they chose each step carefully. Watched the way their eyes moved. Watched how cautiously J.J. shifted a mangled coffee table to check what was under it. This was an art.
Off in the distance, maybe fifty yards away, Blair saw a twisted heap of metal. A car. Red, smashed.
The sludge in her stomach rose up to her throat. “Guys? Should someone go check out that—that car?”
She pointed. Her finger was shaking. Was the rest of her shaking?
Ron nodded. Wordlessly, he headed toward the crushed vehicle.
Blair looked away. If that car belonged to the people who lived here . . . Well, maybe they had two cars. Maybe they drove off safely in their other car. Maybe they were on vacation in Mexico. Or in Antarctica—the one continent that never got tornadoes. The Internet had taught her that ages ago, when her mom moved here and Blair was worried.
Blair’s eyes roamed over the remains of the house. There was actually some sun peeking through the clouds now. How weird. The feeble light glinted off random objects buried in the mess. A cracked mirror. An antenna. The porcelain corner of a bathtub . . .
The bathtub.
The place her mom’s neighbors hid when there was a tornado warning. The safest place to be if you can’t get underground.
Blair plunged into the debris, keeping her eyes fastened on the visible bit of the tub. She wove her way over and through a grim obstacle course. A small voice in the corner of her mind seemed to know what to do.
Don’t trip over that bent floor lamp.
Be careful scrambling over that pile of wood. It could collapse under you.
Watch out for that broken window pane.
Almost there. The tub was mostly covered by fragments of the roof. Blair couldn’t see much. “Hello?” she called, even though Sam had tried that already. “Is there anybody—”
A moan.
Coming from inside the tub.
Blair charged forward. There was a tiny gap between the tub’s rim and the slab of roofing that sat on top. Through that gap, Blair saw a patch of dark hair.
“Someone’s here!” she screamed. “Guys! Help me! Someone’s in here!”
8
Blair couldn’t have moved the roofing on her own. Luckily, Sam and J.J. moved fast. Even David managed to pitch in with his good arm. About ten seconds later, Sam was helping a middle-aged man sit up in the bathtub.
He had a deep gash on his forehead and another on his shoulder. His whole body was covered with grit. But he was conscious, and he could move.
“Logan!” Blair shouted. “The first aid kit!”
Her younger brother was already making his way toward them.
“Logan, be careful!” warned David.
Meanwhile Sam was talking to the guy. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Uh, Walter Letzmann.”
“Was anyone else in the house with you?”
“No. My wife’s visiting her sister . . .”
In Antarctica, I hope, thought Blair.
The man looked around slowly. Blinking in the sunlight. Seeing the damage to his house for the first time. Realizing that he no longer had a house—that his whole life had been blown apart in a few seconds. Blair couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.
Or maybe she could.
***
“Ambulance is on the way.” Sam hung up his phone. “Coming from Hatchville Memorial Hospital. Should be here in twenty minutes.”
“Good,” said David. “Then if the paramedics don’t mind, we’ll ride along with Mr. Letzmann.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” said Sam. He gave them that bullet-proof playful grin again. “You’re ditching the Boss.”
“My brother could use some medical attention too,” Blair pointed out. “Plus, if we stay with you any longer, I think you’ll give him a heart attack.”
Sam laughed. “Fair enough. Maybe we’ll run into you in Hatchville.”
“I hope not,” said David. “I hope nothing hits Hatchville.”
Sam nodded. “Sure. I’m just saying, the Boss is a freaking fortress. There’s no place I’d rather be when a tornado’s coming my way.”
David just shook his head. He didn’t look angry anymore—just exhausted.
Blair said quietly, “I believe that. But we’re at risk no matter what. I think we’d rather face those risks with our family. No offense.”
“None taken. Good luck with that, swee—Blair.” He smiled. She almost smiled back.
***
Twenty minutes later, paramedics lifted Walter Letzmann onto a gurney. Everyone else hovered around, watching—awkwardly silent, until J.J. spoke to Blair.
“That was good thinking,” she said. “Smart to look for the bathtub.”
Blair shrugged. “Glad we found him.” She paused. “I’m glad you found us too. Really. I don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”
J.J. smiled. “Technically, you found us.”
Another pause. The paramedics settled Walter inside the ambulance.
“Most days aren’t like this, you know,” J.J. said quietly. “Most days are boring. You drive around, look at the radar, listen to weather reports. Storms fade without doing much. Or you don’t reach them in time for the magic. So you drive some more. You make a lot of guesses. You guess wrong most of the time. So when you do see a tornado, it’s like: finally, payoff. Most people don’t do this just for thrills. If they want reliable excitement, they can—I dunno—go bungee jumping. To really do this, you have to be patient. And careful.”
Blair raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, I’m serious. You have to calculate all your risks. Nobody actually wants to get killed on a chase. You have to weigh every single choice. And you have to really, really love the storms themselves—just seeing what nature can do. That has to mean more than all the days when nothing happens. And all the days when the worst happens.”
Blai
r nodded. She had to admit that she at least partly understood.
Her brothers were squeezing into the back of the ambulance now. Blair climbed in with them and looked back.
J.J., Sam, and Ron were already heading toward the Boss. Ready for the next chase. Just before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors, Sam turned back. He flashed his cocky grin and saluted her.
Then the doors shut, and the O’Neills were headed for Hatchville.
9
David didn’t say a word all the way to Hatchville Memorial Hospital. When Blair asked if he was okay, he just nodded.
Weirdly, Logan talked to Walter. Talked about his favorite bands, the food at their mom’s wedding reception, the fact that he couldn’t text some girl he liked because his phone had been blown away by a tornado earlier this morning.
Normal stuff.
Walter seemed to be listening carefully.
Meanwhile, Blair texted both her parents to explain what was happening. Their dad was probably in a meeting with his phone off, but her mom called her back immediately.
“I’ll pick you up,” her mom said firmly. “No arguments. The hospital’s only ten minutes away from our house. I’ll bring you home as soon as David’s gotten his stitches. Can I talk to the boys?”
Blair handed the phone to Logan. When her younger brother finished chattering at their mom and passed the phone back, she looked at David. “Mom wants to talk to you too.”
“I’m good.”
“David . . .” But Blair didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She settled on “Mom loves us.” It seemed better than Snap out of it or You’re worrying me.
David sighed. “I know.” Well, that was something, at least. “I’ll talk to her when we get there.”
Great, thought Blair. Awkward family reunion, Round Two. Now with a hundred percent more tornadoes. As if they weren’t all stressed enough. If only they’d left Hatchville an hour earlier this morning. Then they would’ve missed the severe weather, and David would be done brooding. And none of them would have to deal with the Is-Mom-really-back-in-our-lives? question again until winter break.
Vortex Page 4