Impossible

by Laurel Curtis

  I pulled into a spot and then refreshed all of my data to take another look before I went inside. It looked to me like I had a few hours until I needed to be ready to roll, so I had time to relax and eat before I started my closer monitoring and got into my starting position. I liked to be ahead of the storm because it was usually the safest position.

  I shut everything down, turned the keys to the off position, pulled them out, opened my door, and hopped out. Walking confidently, I went in the front door and asked the hostess for a booth for one. Whether my self-assurance was real or an act was anyone’s guess.

  After giving me a look like she felt sorry for me, a look I had become really familiar with since going the way of solitude, she led me to a spot in the corner. I found this exciting because entrenchment in relative seclusion might actually get me out of there without any problems. Maybe no one would notice me.

  The waitress approached my table to take my order, and as she got close, I could see her name tag read ‘Dolores’.

  She looked like she was in her mid sixties and her shining silvery-gray hair was pulled back in a slick bun. She smiled warmly at me and spoke with a soft but authoritative voice. “Hey there, darlin’? Can I getcha somethin’ to drink or are you ready to order?”

  Like any good girl scout (I was never a girl scout), I was prepared. I knew what I wanted because I always ate one of three things before a chase- some sort of pasta dinner, chicken and rice, or a steak and baked potato. I wanted to make sure I had enough carbs and/or protein to keep me sustained for awhile. You never knew if you would get to eat dinner on a chase day, or if it would be at a respectable hour, so you had to eat while you could.

  It just so happened that PJ’s had a great steak. “I’ll take the strip steak, medium, and a baked potato, loaded. Oh, and a Coke to drink.”

  Dolores nodded, but before she could speak I heard another voice. One that I knew all too well.

  Shitdizzle.

  “Well, well, well. Predictable as always, sweet little Veronica,” he crooned. Well, he attempted to croon. There was nothing at all soothing about the sound of his voice.

  It was another chaser named Max. While I pretty much disliked everyone these days, I reserved a special section of distaste for him. Location: about five steps up from Hitler and two below the kid who used to push me down on the playground.

  Everyone treated me a little unfairly and with a good amount of antagonism, but Max was by far the worst. Part of his problem with me was because I was a female, and part of it, I assumed, stemmed from the swift knee to the balls I had given him when he backed me up against his truck one night after a chase.

  There was never a good way to deal with him so I went with the most straight forward thing I could think of. “Move along, Max. You’ll ruin my appetite.”

  I noticed Dolores’s smirk out of the corner of my eye, but Max wouldn’t give up that easily. No way. He had a huge ego, big enough that even if I did find him attractive, I was convinced there wouldn’t be enough room left on his body for a dick, so there would still be no sex.

  “Oh, don’t be like that baby. If you’re really nice to me, I’ll tell you where to go to see the real storms,” he fake pleaded.

  I rolled my eyes at the fact that he never even came up with new material and told him briskly, “No, thanks, Max. I find them just fine on my own, and I do it without having to suffer the taste of asshole on my tongue.”

  Dolores giggled and Max speared me with a glower, but he got up and left, so I was gratified. It wasn’t like them to give up that easily, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Dolores mumbled, “I’ll put your order in, hon” and then left me too. It was funny that she had stayed to watch the whole thing play out, but not unexpected. She had a look about her that screamed nosey.

  I crossed my arms on the table, put my forehead down on my forearm, and closed my eyes. I relaxed, took a deep breath, and let my mind wander- but not too far. I tried to stick to this subject all the time. I poured in all my passion which usually left me with little time to think of anything else, and that was the way I liked it.

  If you asked me, denial was the best stage of grief. If prompted, the Wicked Queen’s mirror would definitely say it was the fairest of them all. Therefore, I just stuck to it and ignored the other stages.

  As was a routine part of my pre-chase rituals, I started to visualize and pick apart my game plan.

  I had picked Parsons as my starting location based on the major factors that are conducive to severe weather. When attempting to find a place to chase tornadoes, finding the area laden with deep moist convection is most important.

  I know what you’re thinking. How naughty, you little dirty-minded thing.

  No, no. Deep moist convection has to do with weather. I promise.

  Quick lesson: Deep moist convection requires three main characteristics: instability, moisture, and lift. Indicators of these three things come in examples such as falling pressure over the last 12 hours, dewpoints above 65 degrees, and fronts or some other form of surface convergence. All of these things were present in eastern Kansas today.

  Hence, my brilliance in choosing Parsons as my jumping off point.

  When I get closer to the actual chase time, I usually monitor more specific factors closely, like Storm Relative Helicity and Radiant Velocity (prominent indicators of storm motion and speed and rotation respectively), but looking for that stuff ahead of time is a huge waste. Kind of like putting lipstick on a pig.

  Last but not least, it’s important to look for supercell storms when chasing because chasing tornadoes in multicell complexes would get way too dangerous. The last thing I needed was a heightened risk of other tornadoes sneaking up on me. I had enough problems.

  Realistically, that’s always a risk, even in supercells because the vortex can collapse and reform on top of you or, God forbid, there could be multiple vortices, but it’s at least less of a risk in a supercell. People already considered me to be reckless because I chased by myself. No need to throw gasoline on the gossip...err...or the fire. Whatever.

  I couldn’t say that I disagreed with them, but it didn’t slow me down.

  The sound of a throat clearing brought me out of my thoughts. I picked my head up to see that Dolores was back with my Coke.

  “You look tired. You ever get any rest?” she pried.

  Sure. I slept. I just never did it well anymore, and it was apparently manifested in the dark circles under my eyes. While she was right, I wasn’t interested in sharing a lot of information with anyone, so I just answered with a lie. “I’m fine.”

  She eyed me skeptically and puckered her lips but let it go.

  When she walked away I blew out a heavy sigh.

  I couldn’t wait to eat and then get back to my solitude. Interacting with people was so much work.

  Huffing yet another deep sigh, I put my head back down on the table. I’d just rest my eyes until she brought my food, and as a bonus, that would probably also keep the people away.

  ********

  I flew down the gravel road, spitting rocks and leaving a huge trail of dust behind me. I had been chasing for a couple of hours now and had moved east all the way into Missouri getting set up for the supercell I wanted. As I pulled off to the side of the road, I looked to the sky to see how things were panning out. I looked at a ton of data, but when it got down to the moment of truth you had to look at what was right in front of you.

  It looked like I had picked a good cell to follow. A lot of this was luck of the draw because several factors can be present without ever seeing a tornado form. That or you could easily end up in the wrong position and have to give up the chase. But this time, it looked like I had chosen well. There was a distinct wall cloud already formed and a well defined rear flank downdraft clear slot. I had a good location on the southeastern quadrant of the storm and was ready to roll if need be. My cameras were rolling and I had my portable video camera out as well as my d
igital camera for snapshots.

  As I looked on, things started to happen, and I could feel the tingle of excitement singing through my veins. The hair on my neck stood up as I talked to myself and the cameras, giving a play by play as the funnel descended. “Oh, yeah. Here it comes. We’ve got good rotation evident and making its way down from the wall cloud.”

  When I watched myself back, I always felt like I sounded like an idiot. But I still came back for more, and I knew why. It was the excitement I could hear in my voice, the feeling I knew I had while it was happening. It was freeing.

  It was my favorite thing to watch.

  As the rotating column of air reached the ground and disturbed the dirt, things got really visible. The vortex filled with debris and dirt to become the signature tornado, the one that people see in pictures and textbooks, and I breathed deep and took it in. This was an unpopulated area, and I didn’t have to think about people that might be hurt or any other negatives that could cloud my high.

  Steadying my heaving chest so that I could speak with an even and clear voice, I grabbed my phone and called it in quickly, “This is Veronica Russo, reporting a tornado on the ground one mile northeast of Hodge, Missouri. Unpopulated area, no structure damage as of yet.”

  If you were going to chase responsibly, you had to spot. The information I provided or didn’t could be the difference between a family keeping their dreams or losing them.

  And I was all too familiar with losing your dreams.

  I finished the call as fast as I could and then zoned back in on the sky in front of me. This is why I chose to do this. Because for a few minutes, I could watch mother nature work and feel totally at peace.

  At peace because there were things bigger than me, things beyond a single person’s control, things beyond the control of even several people, but the call I made could be the difference for someone. It could be the reason they had the chance to keep what I didn’t.

  Their lives or the things and people that gave their lives meaning.

  It was the only way I could seem to make sense of something that didn’t make any sense at all. My life, and the reasons why I kept it that day.

  Chapter 2

  I’m Coleman Cade, Jr.

  Two days, two nights of nightmares, a trip to Nebraska with unsuccessful results, and the usual research later, I was headed south to Alabama. It was looking like there may be an outbreak down there in a couple of days, and I went where the weather sent me. A lot of chasers didn’t travel such long distances back and forth often, but they did for the possibility of an outbreak. And, glutton for punishment that I was, I did it all the time.

  On my way south, I found myself going through a town called Huntsford, Kansas.

  I had never been through here before, but the sign made it painfully obvious that that was my location.

  Huntsford, Kansas

  Population: 332

  It also made it hard to miss that it was sparsely populated.

  Like seriously sparse. Wow.

  Open fields and four board fences ate through my vision in a blur. Taking in my surroundings, I also noticed a homey, country feel. Usually you couldn’t tell a place was homey just by driving through, but in this case, the feeling was strong and indisputable. Huntsford, Kansas was a town of homes, not houses.

  As I was roaming my eyes over the fields and fences mingled with a few standard shops, my attention pulled into the town around me like a magnet I couldn’t escape, I felt the jerk of the wheel and tell-tale popping sound. My ride became uneven, and I could hear the sound of uneven rubber slapping pavement.

  I guess I had a tire blow out. After all, I knew the signs; it happened enough.

  Great. My favorite thing. Yet another fun twist to being a female lone chaser.

  Jesus, complain much, Veronica?

  Sometimes I had to work to quiet my inner bitch. She could get annoying, even to me.

  Slowly easing down my speed, I maneuvered my way to the side of the road and threw the Tahoe into park. I killed the ignition and opened my door, giving it a shove to open further with my foot. Twisting and contorting my body, I put my knees in my seat and reached over all of my stuff to get to the glove box for the key you had to put on the end of the wheel wrench. Once I had it, I righted myself in my seat, climbed down and out, slammed my door, and headed for the back. Woodenly, I opened the lift gate and started moving things to get to my tools. I kept them back here instead of their usual spot because I needed them way more than I would wish on anyone.

  I had grabbed the wheel wrench and was sticking it in the hole in the bumper when a dark gray Dodge Ram truck pulled over behind me and stopped. Straightening back to full height and shielding the sun from my eyes with my hand, I tried to get a look at who was behind the wheel. I was a little surprised to see a young man-boy jump out, shut his door, and approach me.

  As he got close, I took him in. He was young, but it was obvious that someone had passed down some pretty impressive genes. I couldn’t see many details from where I was standing, but I could see that he was tall and built, at least, in a boyish way. He had dark brown hair that was so dark it was almost black and light eyes. He was wearing Wranglers with a tight t-shirt, and I could see a huge belt buckle sticking out from under it. Before I could take any more in, he spoke.

  “Hey there, ma’am. Looks like you got a blowout. Do you want some help changin’ it?” As I listened I realized he had a surprisingly deep voice for someone so young. It was rough and low, but had an amazing amount of natural warmth in it.

  When my thoughts finally moved away from his voice, they turned suspicious. This kid wanted to do this for me? Even on my best days, I was skeptical of people’s generosity, and this wasn’t anywhere near one of my best days. But in addition to that, I couldn’t help but think that I would be in violation of some kind of child labor laws if I accepted. His body was mature for his age and his voice was rich with maturity, but somehow it was still obvious he was a few years shy of legal. I wasn’t even sure how he was driving.

  Realizing he was still waiting for an answer, I shook my head and gave him one. “You’re just a kid.”

  He took that in and responded almost instantly. “No ma’am, I’m not.”

  Geez. Who did this kid think he was dealing with? I audibly scoffed and questioned, “You’re honestly going to try to convince me that you’re not a kid?”

  The beginnings of a smirk touched just one corner of his mouth as he replied, “No, ma’am. I am in fact a kid, but I’m not just a kid. I’m Coleman Cade, Jr.”

  He said it like it should mean something to me. It did not, and I made no attempt to cover it up, the bitchiness that had seeped into all of my interactions since I had left home taking over. “And?”

  He looked surprised for a minute, like he was expecting me to know who he was or maybe just expecting me to be nicer, but he quickly covered it up with a smile before moving on. “Never mind. People call me CJ. Feel free to do the same.”

  Ugh. How aggravating. This kid just had to keep being nice. Normally people backed off when they got a taste of my bitchiness. I can handle when people are mean. That’s easy to deal with. The nice ones are way harder to handle, though.

  Figuring I was going to have to go with ignoring him since conversation wasn’t working for me, I turned back to what I was doing and started cranking the spare tire down.

  That is, that’s what I was doing until I saw another hand reach out and grab the handle on the wheel wrench. Startled, I jumped, looked up, and saw his eyes up close for the first time. He was much taller than me (what had to be almost a foot), but I was only 5’2”. And his eyes were the coolest thing I had ever seen. One was a soft sky blue and the other was a green that was just a shade darker than mine.

  With his eyes right there, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I just blurted out the only words my brain had the ability to process. “You’re eyes are two different colors.”

  He chuckled and answered
me, “They sure are. My name isn’t the only thing my dad passed down.”

  Holy Crap. “There are two of you with eyes like this?” I breathed.

  A smile took over his face as he confirmed, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Geez. I really needed him to stop calling me ma’am. I was much older than him, but I was only thirty. A grimace settled on my face expressing my distaste while I murmured, “Ugh. Cut it out with the freaking ma’am already.”

  He smirked again. “Can’t quit callin’ you ma’am if I don’t know your name.”

  He was starting to annoy me, mostly because people annoyed me when they were pointing out something that was true.

  I tossed him a sarcastic smile that puffed out my cheeks as I clenched my teeth. “Roni.”

  “Roni, huh? That’s kinda manly.”

  Josh had always said the same thing. That was why he insisted on calling me “Vee”.

  CJ looked me up and down and finished with, “Don’t look like a man, though.”

  I made an exaggerated gagging sound in the back of my throat and rolled my eyes. “Gross. You are like twenty years too young to say something like that to me.” I paused for a second as he chuckled and then asked, “How old are you anyway?”

  He didn’t miss a beat, answering me swiftly and following it up quickly with a demand. “Fifteen. Now, do you want me to change your tire or not?”

  He was a tough nut to crack. Or maybe more appropriately a tough person to ditch. He obviously didn’t take things personally and didn’t let any of my nastiness rub off on him.

  This was inconvenient. I really didn’t want to like him because I didn’t want to like anyone these days. That’s why I cut out all of my old friends. It was just easier when people didn’t like me and I returned the favor.