After the cloth in my hand had turned warm from Monique's body, I lay down next to her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling a thick blanket over us. The blanket looked like a big buffalo hide. I wanted to ask Monique about it, but she was already asleep, her chest slowly rising and falling steadily with each small breath. She seemed almost frail now, even though I knew that I woke her she would become as robust as ever. But right now, while she slept, she looked like someone who needed my protection, my help. I didn't know how I could help her though.
Before I drifted off to the land of nod it occurred to me that I could help her by doing a good job covering what was going on out here. The most I could do was also the least I could do. It was funny how things worked out like that sometimes.
When I slept I dreamed of a world full of snowflakes, and cold that never ended. When I woke again in the middle of the night it was to the sound of a harsh wind whistling through the rafters above us. I wondered when exactly the ranch house had been constructed, from the sounds of it, probably about the time Monique's parents had settled the ranch. Or maybe it had been her grandparents.
I tried to make a mental note to ask when I woke, but sleep stripped all thoughts from my mind, like paint in a turpentine bath my consciousness dispersed evenly through the blackness I slipped into.
Chapter 4
In the morning Monique and I were woken by a tapping on the door. I quickly dressed and opened it a crack. It was Ed standing outside.
"I know it's early," Ed said. "But I think we need to get moving. From what I've heard over the radio, things could get just as bad today as they did two days ago. We're a good distance from the town. The story is in the town, no matter what happens. It doesn't matter if the twister crosses over nothing, out in the middle of nowhere. So I say we head into town and see what's up."
I stepped outside, wanting to give Monique a chance to dress. I was more than sure she had been woken up by our voices.
“Monique was talking about how the Mayor's son, or someone, is getting married today at an orchard that was partially destroyed by the storm. How about we go there and see what's going on. If it's boring, then we grab a couple of soundbites and head out. If the weather turns dangerous, who better than the Mayor to turn the lens on?”
Ed chuckled at this.
“You've always been a firecracker,” Ed said. “I'll get my things ready, then we need to get moving. Today is going to be a long one.”
When I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me Monique was already dressed and making breakfast. She looked good, and I wanted to cross the distance between us and kiss her all over. But I didn't. I knew that what had happened last night was the night's. The day wouldn't see any talk of it, as far as either of us were concerned. There was just so much to do, and we both knew that it needed to be done well. It wouldn't do to have people catch a hint of us fawning over each other.
When we were all in the van I realized that we would have to come back to the ranch house to drop Monique off, and would probably be spending the night. That made my heart throb a little bit, but I swallowed hard and set my jaw. I didn't want to give any sign of impropriety to Ed, even though I knew plenty of male meteorologists who totally capitalized on their position in the limelight in order to get laid. I didn't know why I was feeling like I needed to hide it, unless of course, it had actually meant something to me. In that case it would make total sense to want to hide it from Ed, even though he would be completely cool about it. Special secrets were something to be cherished and held close, not waved around. I didn't know Monique's exact thoughts on it, but from the veiled glances she would occasionally give me I knew that she was thinking the exact same thing. I want more than anything to slip into bed with her that night, again. Maybe she wanted the same thing, or maybe she wanted some space. It was hard to tell.
The news van bounced across the country road back to the town. When we got there Monique gave us directions to the orchard just outside of town. And, as Monique had said, it wasn't but a ten-minute drive from one edge of town to the other, so it didn't take us long to cross the distance and find the orchard. Parking was scarce, so I parked the van right next to the entrance. I doubted anyone who was a politician would gripe about the media showing up to cover their son's wedding. If anything, we would probably be shown favor of some kind.
“What do you plan on doing? We aren't exactly invited,” Monique said. “I figured you media types would have a pretty good handle on what to do, so I didn't think of anything.”
Monique smiled and winked at me. I knew this was her playful way of putting me on the spot, and I wanted to be sure I didn't shrink from the challenge.
“Let's just walk in like we own the place,” I said. “What's the worst that could happen? It's not like they are going to ask us to leave. And if they do, as soon as they find out that we're there to cover the wedding they'll completely be down with it. Just think about being a politician and loving your face in the news when it's in a positive light.”
There was a path that led out into the middle of the orchard. Monique hadn't been kidding around when she said that the orchard was a thing that had been, and was no longer. About two-thirds of the orchard was completely twisted up, with roots jutting from the ground of toppled trees, and branches broken and still oozing sap as the flies feasted on not only the rotting fruit but the trees sticky lifeblood as well.
The Mayor's son was just taking the hand of his wife to be and saying his vows. We all sat in the back row and Ed discretely shot some film. It was great to see him working the smaller pieces of equipment with such ease. It wasn't often that Ed felt like he was under the gun, but I could tell that he felt so now. It was the way he pursed his lips, and the way he wrinkled his brow. He was tense, but trying not to show it. I felt the same way, and I could tell that Monique did as well. There wasn't anything to be gained by looking tense though, so I leaned to whisper in Monique's ear. She slowly put a calming hand on Ed's leg, on the top of his thigh where it couldn't be mistaken for anything but friendly reassurance. Ed immediately loosened up. It was really something to watch, and I was thankful that Monique had been gracious enough to do so. I'm not sure that my touch would have had the same effect because Ed knew me as a coworker and friend, and because I just didn't seem to have what Monique did in a touch.
As the ceremony came to a swift conclusion, I realized that dark thunderclouds hung on the horizon, and the wind was blowing them right toward us. It was crazy to think that what had just happened a few days ago might happen again, but this time we would be here to see it. As I thought about the town I realized that, much like the orchard, there was still enough to destroy that another twister would be another tragedy, and there was no way around it. If the town had been completely destroyed we wouldn't even be here. It was because there were people, and therefore something to lose still, that we were here.
As the crowd made their way to their cars Ed and I casually walked up to the Mayor.
“Hello, Mayor, I wanted to ask you some questions,” I said. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure of your name, but I'd like your comment on a few things.”
“Davies,” the short, round man said. “My name is Davies, and it's no matter that you don't know it. I have no delusions of grandeur. I'm just a simple public servant. Ask me whatever you like.”
I was a little surprised to find the Mayor so willing to talk to us after we came out of nowhere. Usually, people weren't really OK with ambush interviews, but Davies seemed like he thought it was a little much, but nothing annoying. It was refreshing to meet a person in a public service role of some power who was humble.
“What do you think about current events,” I said. “And what do you think about the possibility of a repeat occurrence here today?”
The Mayor looked at the thunderheads coming our way before turning back to me to answer.
“I think that what has happened here is a real tragedy,” Davies said. “I know that the good people that live her
e deserve better, but I also know how hard the land can be. We need to prepare better in the future, with sirens and Doppler readings. We can no longer depend on larger cities to let us know when something bad is coming our way. I think that doing so has left us with our pants down. That can't happen again.”
The Mayor paused to look at the remains of the orchard.
“Of course, we'll need help rebuilding. But what we need is less talk about how we need to pack it up and head somewhere else. This town serves a purpose. Maybe we'll rename it when we rebuild, but we will rebuild, I promise you that. I'm not doubting the resilience of the good people here, and I hope that when you report you mention that, how we are holding firm. This freak weather can't drive us out. This is where our fathers and mothers lived and died, and even though the land is harsh and unforgiving, I know that for me and for many others, there is simply no place we'd rather be. Even if no one else understands it, that's how we feel. And it doesn't matter if no one else understands it.”
“Thank you for your time, Mayor Davies,” I said. “It was good speaking with you.”
All three of us headed back toward the news van, not speaking until we were inside and out of earshot of everyone else.
“That was fucking gold,” Ed said. “Seriously, we couldn't have paid that guy to say cooler shit than that. What an interview.”
“I agree,” I said. “Thanks to Monique, we were able to get it. I hope that it comes out well, and the audio is good.”
“It will,” Ed said. “It was looking and sounding great when I shot it. There are ways to tell if the scene isn't shooting well, that's why I don't understand when entire interviews are shot out of whack. I always want to scream, 'Why didn't you just adjust what you were doing?' But people just don't want to listen.”
“Ed has to clean up a lot of the footage lesser cameramen bring to the station,” I said. “And he's getting a little bitter about it.”
“Really? I thought you were Mr. I Want To Retire,” Monique said. “Well, it's good to hear that you were exaggerating how badly you wanted to be put out to pasture. It would seem you've got fight in you left.”
Ed laughed softly.
"Sometimes," Ed said. "But other times I really do just want to sit down, sip coffee, and tell people what to do. Eventually, that's how it will be. But that does seem to be a long ways off at this point. I can't believe how great this story is turning out. I mean, I definitely am not down with this place getting any further smashed, but, you know what I mean . . ."
Ed trailed off as the thunderheads moved over us with breathtaking speed. Before any of us could say something about funnel clouds, three of them appeared.
“Stay in the van,” Monique said. “I know that it might seem to be lifting, or moving, but believe me, you do not want to go outside of this thing right now.”
“I don't want to,” I said. “At all.”
“Me neither,” Ed said.
"We need to get in the back and lie down," Monique said. "There are no windows in the back, so no way for us to be hurt by shards of glass when debris starts flying around; which will be soon. Those funnel clouds are going to pass right over us. Hopefully, they won't touch down."
But before Ed could tell her that it was bad luck to wish for things not to happen out loud, all three funnels touched down. It was mesmerizing to watch them move, because although there did seem to grow in their bends and twists, they weren't like snakes or arms reaching down from a black sky. Instead, they were like the antithesis of waterfalls, something beautiful and deadly, although waterfalls didn't appear from nowhere and destroy entire towns.
“Fuck,” Ed said. “Here they come! They're passing right by us!”
And so it was. The twisters were small, but one of them moved quickly through what was left of the orchard. As I watched trees and pieces of equipment thrown in every direction as if they were a child's play things, I knew that it really didn't matter if we got down in the back of the van. If one of those trees landed on us, or if a tractor was flung through us, there wouldn't be any way to survive it. That was something from the movies people really had a hard time letting go of, the idea that there was always something to be done. Most of the time there really was nothing to be done but sit and wait.
As my thoughts became more crystal clear, more accepting of what could be our ultimate finality, the air outside was so full of debris that I thought I might be dreaming. Bricks were swirling through the air like leaves, some of them sucked straight up into the sky to land God only knew where. Entire trees circled us overhead to come crashing down close enough to the van to mark up the paint job.
I tried not to think about what could happen. Because it didn't necessarily have to be instant death. It could be a slow death, or I could be maimed. Maybe I'd get pinned in the van and have to watch my friends pass from the earth. As my thoughts turned from macabre to simply stunned, I realized I was overwhelmed. My mind was having a hard time taking all of the wanton destruction in. A car flew by, and I thought I heard screaming. I closed my eyes and Monique took my hand. In the back, I could hear Ed crying. We were all terrified, but Monique seemed to be holding up the best. She was humming that old country song again, one I couldn't place but knew I'd heard my grandfather listening to many years ago.
As the twisters passed over us, and beside us, Monique hummed louder, rocking back and forth in her chair. Ed cried louder. I chewed on my lip, the one that was still raw from the night before. Then, as quickly as they had come, the twisters were gone. For a moment I wondered if they had simply disappeared, but when I looked in the only remaining rear view mirror I could see them making their way toward the small town.
“Christ,” Monique said. “I can't believe the place is going to be torn apart again.”
“Holy shit,” Ed said. “I really didn't think that it was possible to get hit again, and I especially didn't think it possible for a town to be mauled by three small twisters after receiving a knock out punch from the biggest tornado in recorded history.”
When I twisted the key in the ignition, I didn't expect the van to start. Something inside me was telling me there was no way that the van escaped unscathed as well, that there had to have been something that the twister had picked up and thrown against us so hard it damaged the engine. But the van's old engine roared to life like it always did, and when I took it out of park and put it into drive it jumped a little bit, just like it always had.
I smiled.
“Some things never change,” I said. “And I'm glad that at least this old van isn't letting us down.”
“Old girl never quits,” Ed said. “I've been riding around in this thing for over a decade.”
Monique was quiet beside us. I didn't prompt her to speak, but instead let her be. It had to be hard to watch the closest spit of civilization to her ranch be sundered by the power of the air. I slowly piloted the van back into town, and Ed readied his cameras and recording equipment.
Chapter 5
The town's inhabitants were out on the street already. Some people were mourning, screaming, and beating their chests to the heavens. It was a depressing scene, and I could tell that it was breaking Monique's heart.
“Hey,” I said to a man driving a cab. He looked ridiculous amidst all the carnage, so I figured I'd give him something to do. “Could you take my friend here back to her place. It's about--”
The man interrupted me.
“Sure I'll take Monique home,” the man said. “Ain't nothing doing. Don't even need to pay me.”
With that Monique was out of the van and the cab was making tracks toward her place.
“I'm glad that you thought of that,” Ed said. “This is going to be a hard thing to cover, and I can't even imagine how she might be feeling. She probably knows these folks, ate dinner with them, watched them get married. We both know that adds a lot. For us, these folks are just unlucky. For her, these people are all she's ever really known besides the desert. Now it must seem like the desert
is just waiting to wipe everything she knows off the map.”
As we went around the town interviewing men and women with tearful eyes, I wondered what exactly they were going to do. Even if federal aid arrived tomorrow, there was no way it would be an overnight rebuild. And as much as people didn't like the idea of relocating, it was something that both Ed and myself thought was a very real possibility. Now there were definitely fatalities, and that meant they would have to be buried. It also meant that there could be unaccounted for deaths in the rubble. From my understanding of such things, it might be easier to avoid what could be a bad situation where diseases would fester and sickness would spread by simply moving everyone to the nearest town and incorporating them.
But as strong willed as everyone I interviewed seemed, it was hard for me to see that happening. It seemed more likely that everyone would simply hunker down and try to wait out the bad times, but what if the bad times never ended like they wanted them to?
By the time we were back in the van and headed to Monique, I was completely and totally exhausted. I couldn't believe how much the day had taken out of me. I felt like all I'd done all day was run a marathon, and now I needed to lie down and maybe die from being too tired. Ed looked about the same. When we pulled up to the ranch house, he excused himself from any kind of dinner or further human interaction and headed to the shack behind. I didn't blame him for wanting to be alone with his thoughts. I felt lucky to be alive, but I also felt fragile. Everything felt more fragile now.
Chapter 6
When I walked into the ranch house I saw the last thing I'd expected. Monique was sitting on the other side of the table, and on the table in front of her was a homemade meal, a bottle of wine, and a few candles.
“You didn't have to do all this,” I said. “I know that you were tired today, too. All of this is so draining.”
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