The Fire and the Anvil

by Michael Galloway

  John had also not taken many rocket shots at a fully developed tornado, choosing instead to focus on landing the sensors inside thunderstorms with developing wall clouds. He debated the risks in his mind of getting too close to an established violent storm. Additionally, who knew what kind of data would result?

  As they arrived at the target area south of the tornado’s northeastward path, John still had concerns about stray lightning bolts and getting nailed by either hail or rear-flank downdraft winds. It was a high-stakes gamble and he was becoming less confident with time that it was even worth it. Despite the concern, no other storm in the area had this much potential.

  He stopped his truck along a county road and waited for Captain and Dr. Ferganut to pull up behind him. Light rain was falling and there was no sign of hail and so he set up one of the rocket launchers some twenty feet behind his truck.

  The rebuilt launcher consisted of eight metal launch rails arranged in a rectangular array that could be aimed with the guidance of a truck-mounted camera and the software on his laptop computer. He pulled out a black duffel bag from the bed of the truck and unzipped it. He pulled out the first orange-and-white striped rocket and slipped it onto a launch rail. Once he filled all the rails, he attached the ignition wires and alligator clips to each rocket.

  Finally, he ran the communications cable from the launcher through the back window of his truck and plugged it into his laptop computer. Next to it he set an oversized red launch button.

  “Think we can get hit this?” John said to Captain as he stared straight up into the sky. The gray-green clouds churned overhead as they sat on the outer edge of the mesocyclone in the parent storm. It was as if they were on the underside of a mile-wide whirlpool. Further south, greenish-blue cumulus mammatus clouds stretched across the horizon as if the sky went into a slow-motion rolling boil.

  “It would be a first,” Captain said with the confidence fading in his voice. He turned to face Dr. Ferganut. “I’m not sure what we’re gonna find with this launch, but if you want to get your balloons ready, now’s the time.”

  Dr. Ferganut hobbled toward the back of his truck and opened a fire-engine red rectangular box. He withdrew three bright red pilot balloons, three hand-sized plastic spheres, three pieces of white rope, and a hose to connect to a tank of gas.

  “What is that? Helium?” Captain asked as he pointed to a dull brown tank lying on its side in the bed of the truck.

  “Hydrogen. Let’s hope we don’t get hit by lightning,” Dr. Ferganut replied with a grin. He rapped the side of the tank with his knuckle to make a hollow metallic sound.

  Dr. Ferganut worked quickly to inflate the balloons. As he tied each balloon off he attached a three-foot piece of rope and a plastic sphere. When all the balloons were ready, Dr. Ferganut signaled John. “Grab some of those sensors I gave you.”

  John retrieved the boxes of sensors and helped Dr. Ferganut to pour them into each of the spheres. Dr. Ferganut then reached into the bed of his truck and raised an aluminum transmission mast.

  Dr. Ferganut closed each sphere and set their digital timers. He handed the first balloon to Madeline. “You first.”

  “Serious?” She said in disbelief.

  Dr. Ferganut motioned for her to let it go.

  Madeline cradled the balloon a moment and then raised her right arm. She beamed as she let the first balloon go. He continued to hand her balloons and she released them at one minute intervals until they were all aloft.

  “Maybe you should move that antenna away from the hydrogen tank,” Captain advised.

  “Good point,” Dr. Ferganut said. He set up the antenna on the ground a few feet from the back of the pickup truck and plugged the wire from it into his laptop computer. He then tapped out a few commands on the keyboard and waited.

  John admired the balloons as they were sucked into the whirlpool above. He climbed back into his truck, twisted the arming key on the control box, and held his hand over the launch button.

  “Fire in the hole,” he yelled to warn everybody to back away from the launcher. He slapped the launch button and fired the first rocket into the heavens. The rocket was loaded with the smaller sensors Dr. Ferganut gave him and his hopes soared with it.

  Just as he readied to launch the next rocket, he noticed a menacing trend on the radar display. The hook echo was continuing to grow in size. Already, in the time they had made visual contact with the tornado, it had nearly doubled in breadth. He fired the next rocket into the sky, followed by the rest at one minute intervals.

  He got out of his truck and returned to visit with the others. He stood next to Madeline but observed that her demeanor changed. “You alright?” He asked her.

  “I’m gonna pray. I’ve waited for this day for years. To be with you. And Dad. But not like this. I don’t want people to die.”

  John clutched her hand and squeezed it tight. Together they prayed that the storm would dissipate before reaching the Sioux Falls area. Toward the end of the prayer John added, “but could we get some good data first?”

  When he opened his eyes Madeline had already turned away. “Was that selfish?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “A little, John.”

  John looked over to see Dr. Ferganut praying, too. Captain continued to watch the balloons and rockets ascend with a pair of binoculars. He then set up a tripod and took a handful of pictures of the whirlpool above and the departing twister as it crept to the northeast. The inky-black twister churned across the prairie with deft violence, shredding crops, trees, and barns with magnetic precision. Smaller horizontal circulations clawed and writhed as they ascended the funnel until they dissipated near the top.

  John then gazed down the road and spotted something unusual in the nearby grass. He walked a few hundred feet and pulled out his cell phone camera. He took pictures of the flattened prairie grass which marked the path where the twister went through before they arrived. The path was at least two hundred yards wide and in places the grass was completely sucked out of the ground. In other places it was flattened as if it was made up of a series of curves. As he looked back at the twister he thought again about who might be in the path, including Madeline’s mother, Evelyn, who lived in Wick.

  He sprinted back and stood next to Dr. Ferganut. “What do you say we follow this back into town?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They followed the twister as it roared toward the Wick area. It was as if a giant lawnmower carved a path through the heart of the country and its roar haunted anyone still outdoors. Debris, lofted thousands of feet into the atmosphere, rained down across the landscape. Bits of paper, metal, branches, insulation, and wood hit John’s truck like wind-driven missiles as he drove back up Interstate 29.

  It was late afternoon now, and as John kept an eye on the radar display he also noticed a weakening trend in the cloud pattern high above. Madeline prayed a few more times and soon John saw the sign they all hoped for.

  The wedge tornado, blackened with soil and debris and nearly a mile wide at the base, became wrapped in bright green shafts of rain and hail. At the same time the radar showed the velocity couplet collapsing, likely due to dry air being entrained from the east. As the curtains of rain spun around the twister, its width dwindled dramatically. By the time it approached the southern outskirts of Wick, its circulation destabilized and sent the funnel into a wobble. Soon the funnel broke connection with the ground and lifted into the air. It then twisted around on itself before breaking apart completely. As it reached the town the funnel eroded away until nothing but a black wall cloud remained.

  John heaved a sigh of relief. He toggled through a few screens on his laptop computer and confirmed that the rocket sensors deployed as designed. He pumped his fist in triumph and gave Madeline a quick kiss on the lips. “Once this blows through, we should go check on your mom.”

  * * *

  John pulled into Evelyn Kinney’s driveway as soon as the storm cleared the town. On the streets of Wick he o
nly noticed minor tree damage with a few broken branches strewn about. Evelyn’s house and yard appeared untouched. The wall cloud hovered like an alien ship as if churned to the northeast but never reconnected with the ground.

  “Does she know we’re all coming?” John asked.

  “I told her there might be a few surprises,” Madeline said.

  “I thought she didn’t like surprises.”

  Evelyn opened her front door and waved to them. John and Madeline both got out of the truck and met her halfway to the house. Evelyn was in her late forties, with eager brown eyes and wavy, black, shoulder-length hair. She wore a white long-sleeve dress shirt, a black skirt, and black pumps.

  A minute later Dr. Ferganut and Captain pulled into the driveway behind them. Evelyn leaned to the side to look. “Is that your father?” She asked before she gave Madeline a hug.

  “Do you mind? We went on a chase together,” Madeline beamed.

  “Really? When you told me to prepare for four I kept trying to figure out who the other person was.”

  “Sorry for the short notice.”

  Evelyn put up a hand. “No worries. There’s plenty for all of you.”

  John’s stomach growled. “What are we having?” John said. His appetite began to build by the minute.

  “Lasagna. With garlic bread. And salad. Is that okay?” Evelyn said.

  “I’m good with that.”

  “I think John wanted steak,” Madeline said. “After every chase he and Captain eat steak.”

  “Sorry, John. Did you want me to run up to the store?” Evelyn said.

  “No. I’m good. Captain…I’m not so sure,” John kidded.

  Captain jumped out of the truck first and Evelyn gave him a hug. Captain stood in shock but played along anyway.

  Dr. Ferganut followed and stood a few feet in front of Evelyn. He put his hands into his pants pockets and shifted his feet about. “Are you okay with this? This wasn’t my idea,” he said in an apologetic tone.

  “Of course I’m okay with it. How’ve you been?” Evelyn said with a hint of optimism in her voice. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Better now. I’m just…glad the town dodged the big one this time.” He looked skyward for a moment.

  “You seem like you’re at peace about something.”

  Dr. Ferganut eyed the ground then looked up at her again. “Remember Julius?”

  “Did you see him again?”

  “No. But Madeline and John did. I only heard his voice. He set fire to the Sand Hills around Valentine.”

  “Oh my God. That was him? Did everyone make it out okay? What about your house?”

  As Dr. Ferganut elaborated on the week’s events, John and Madeline headed inside of Evelyn’s house. John was struck by the exact order of her place from the maroon walls and the elaborate carved woodwork in the living room to the polished hardwood floors in the kitchen.

  The kitchen was expansive with cupboards ringing the perimeter and a center island full of food for dinner. The allure of basil, oregano, and Italian sausage bombarded his senses and the burgundy-colored tablecloth with five table settings encouraged him. Each setting had two forks, a spoon, a knife, an amber goblet, and a bright white china plate. He squeezed Madeline’s hand.

  * * *

  “So what brought you all together? Besides the storm chase,” Evelyn said as she sat down at the dining room table.

  “John’s writing a book,” Madeline said as she buttered a garlic breadstick with a knife.

  “Really? What kind of book?” Evelyn said with a curious but amused look.

  John studied Evelyn’s reaction before responding but could not tell if she thought the whole idea was a joke. “It’s a biography. Mainly focusing on Dr. Ferganut’s inventions.”

  “Nothing too risqué in there, right?” Evelyn winked at Dr. Ferganut.

  Dr. Ferganut’s cheeks became flush. He cleared his throat. “No. We stuck to my work, Evelyn.”

  “How about the gambling bit? Did you cover that?”

  Madeline blushed and stared at her salad.

  “We did,” Dr. Ferganut said.

  “I’m impressed.” She turned to look at John. “Did he show you his paintings?”

  “Paintings?” John asked. “I didn’t know he…”

  Evelyn cut him off. “Oh sure. In our early years he painted. As a hobby. That’s his picture over there.” She pointed to a painting on the kitchen wall in between the refrigerator and the dishwasher. Crafted in an impressionistic style, it showed a couple holding hands underneath a red umbrella. It was identical to the painting in Dr. Ferganut’s living room with the exception of the added woman.

  John stared at the painting a minute and then resumed eating his lasagna. He then looked at Madeline and it brought him an intense sense of peace that he could not seem to fathom.

  “Did you guys talk about his storm research much?” Evelyn continued.

  “Some,” John said. “Speaking of storms did you happen to see the twister that was headed this way earlier?”

  “I did. Maddie warned me just in time.” She winked at Madeline. “I headed down to the basement and turned on the television. I prayed non-stop for twenty minutes I think. The lights flickered and there was some wind, but no damage.”

  “We tracked it all the way to the edge of town,” Dr. Ferganut said. “Got to test out some of my new sensors.” He lifted an amber-colored goblet full of water into the air as if to toast. “Here’s hoping we got some good data.”

  “As big as it was, somehow I wasn’t as scared compared to the one John and I saw in the fire,” Madeline added.

  “You were caught in the fire? Were you okay?” Evelyn said.

  “I’m alright. John and Dad came and got me this last time. John drove his truck and Dad sent his inventions.” She smiled broadly at the last comment and squeezed John’s hand under the table.

  “Were you caught in your car?”

  “Should I tell her?” Madeline whispered to John.

  “Tell me what? Where’s your car by the way?”

  “Back in a ditch on the side of the highway,” John said. “She broke down and I carried her out of the ditch.”

  Evelyn put a hand to her mouth. “Were you hurt?”

  Madeline pulled her blistered hand back under the table. “I’m good, Mom. But you should let Dad tell you about the hawks he made.”

  “But as least Dr. Minton didn’t capture the professor’s flag,” Captain interjected.

  “His flag? This is getting good now,” Evelyn said as she helped herself to another portion of salad. “Go on.”

  As Captain and Dr. Ferganut explained the reference and the hawks, all John could do was smile.

  * * *

  After dinner, Madeline pulled her mother aside in the living room while John stood nearby. “Mom, I was looking through your bookcase. Where did your copy of Sparks of Heaven go?”

  “It’s funny you ask about that. I tried to reread it last week but it made me nervous. I just couldn’t connect with it anymore. Why are you interested in it all of a sudden?”

  “I was trying to see if there was a connection between Jared’s books and Dr. Minton.”

  “Sorry. I threw it out last night. The trash guy picked it up this morning. I still have the other two if you want to borrow them. I’ll probably get rid of those, too. Someday. Here. You can go through them. Let me grab them for you.” Evelyn marched over to the bookcase, withdrew the two books, and handed them to Madeline.

  John watched as Madeline cradled the books and studied their covers. He felt uneasy because he still could not understand her sudden interest especially after hating the books for so many years.

  “By the way,” Evelyn began again. “Has something else changed between you and your dad? Besides finally going on a chase together? Did you two have a talk or something?”

  Madeline smiled big and looked over at John. “We did.” She leaned over toward her mother and whispered, “And I’ve forgi
ven him.”

  “What prompted that?”

  “I read over John’s notes. From the interview. And I saw a side of Dad I hadn’t seen since I was little.”

  “You mean the side that scared you?”

  “No. The side that was willing to sacrifice everything he had for his family.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Minutes after Dr. Ferganut drove Captain home on the way back to Nebraska, John took Madeline back to her apartment. The sun was just beginning to set and as they passed by the Spirit of Grace Church, John marveled at the rebuilding effort. Already the church’s new walls were constructed and the roof work was nearly completed. It was not as elegant as the previous building and from what John heard it was a miracle that the funds came together at all for the project. He stopped his truck in front of the granite memorial erected on the corner of the property.

  The rectangular stone stood five feet tall, was three feet wide, and six inches thick. A memorial garden of purple and gold irises, yellow daffodils, and bright white lilies surrounded the stone. He thought if another tornado roared through town it just might be the last structure standing.

  Both John and Madeline got out of the truck to take a look. At the top of the memorial stone was a summary of last year’s event which leveled half the town and all of the church. Beneath the summary was a chiseled list of the names of those who lost their lives in the storm.

  John read the names of the deceased silently to himself and let his eyes linger over Jared Wickham’s name a few extra seconds. He still harbored many mixed feelings about the man, the legacy, and his final encounter with the wayward pastor. Based on recent conversations with Madeline, little remained of the man’s teachings except for a few books scattered around homes in the town and those in her mother’s possession.