The Tempest by A.J. Scudiere (story read aloud .txt) 📗

When she finally decided to stand, the kitten clung to her shirt. With gentle hands, Joule put it on the ground. Best to leave it here for its mother to find.

Aiming toward the ditch, Joule eyeballed the distance, curious now how wide it was. Wondering if she could compare it to the ten-foot furrow that had been carved in their gravel driveway, the last time this had happened.

She laughed to herself, as if there had been a “last time this had happened.” The “last time” was nothing like this time. This time, she woke up in a strange field, alone. But seeing the ditch was an achievable goal, and she pushed forward.

Though she didn’t want it to, the kitten followed along. Despite her headache, Joule was a quick mover, her steps high in the low grass. The kitten wasn't able to keep up. In fact, the grass was nearly to its eyeballs. As it fought to stay up to speed, it mewed for her.

Joule looked back at it. “You can’t come with me, kitten. You need to find your mama. Or let your mama find you.”

If only her own mama was still alive to come find her…

As she looked around, she realized she wasn't in the field where she worked. There were no pylons—or even twisted remains of them. She had no clue where she was. This was wide open, even bigger than the space for the solar array.

The trees were different here. She heard no traffic. She was wherever this thing had deposited her. And probably, so was the kitten. It might not have a mother within miles. So while there was a mild possibility that she was taking it away from its safety, it was far more likely she was the only safety it was going to find.

Giving in, Joule scooped the kitten up. It stopped mewing and she got a good look at it.

Small blue eyes held gratitude and relief. Probably a mistake on its part. She didn’t have kitten milk on her. Hell, she didn’t have food or water for herself. But the tiny ball of black fuzz seemed a little too long-haired to be the offspring of some standard, feral cat. This was probably the result of somebody’s house cat having kittens. Hopefully nearby.

If she could find the owner of the kitten, she could find everything—food, water, a phone.

Still she headed toward the ditch, more curious than concerned right now, with the tiny kitten tucked into the crook of her arm. The distance to the edge of the ditch was much farther than she’d first thought, and her muscles protested with every step. She was battered and bruised. And she was grateful she didn't have a mirror. She must look a fright.

But she wanted to see what damage the tornado had done as it had literally carved its way through the earth. As she finally reached the edge of the ditch, she was impressed to see that some sturdy trees still stood within the path.

Of the few that remained, more than one was only a trunk. Its branches had been stripped or ripped off and only gaping splinters of wounds marked where the limbs had once been. Another stood whole, leaves and everything. But what made her mouth drop open was the width of the ditch in front of her.

29

Water.

She needed water.

Joule wasn't thirsty yet, but it was a basic fact of human nature that she would be soon. What she wouldn't give to find a perfectly sealed bottle of water lying amidst the debris, but she’d had no such luck yet. In fact, she wouldn’t say she’d had any luck at all.

She and the kitten had created the only sounds she'd heard. There wasn't even wind rustling through the treetops or birds flying through. Everything had gone preternaturally still. The world felt strange, almost too perfect—except for the fact that she was the only one in it.

A rustling sound came quickly from her right side, and she jerked around to assess the threat. Because out here alone, everything was a threat. She might be a mere half mile from her own home, but the unknown was the unknown, and life had taught her not to be a fan.

She and the tiny kitten turned in unison to watch as a huge buck stepped into the wide path. He looked both ways—in a very human, crossing-the-street type gesture—before he moved more fully across the open space.

The expanse of the rut was far enough to be beyond concerning. But, as Joule watched, the deer ventured through it, braver than she—first the buck, and then several does that followed him, and then more came through. After a moment, she was enthralled and began to count them. The kitten sat quietly in her hand and she wanted to believe he was just as enraptured as she was.

Eventually, she saw fifteen of them, but was unsure if that represented a relatively large herd. They'd seen a few deer here and there while working on the array. The fact was, the work itself kept much of the wildlife away. She’d seen a few more deer at the house, but even there, the wildlife tended to much smaller creatures like squirrels and the occasional groundhog or falcon that perched for a moment on Squirrel Log.

Unconsciously, Joule lifted the kitten a little closer to her chest, as though he needed protection from the deer that appeared to be more than a hundred yards away. Or maybe he just needed a better view. Though she held him close, he didn’t squirm, but seemed to watch quietly until the deer walked the last bit, their small feet picking their way through the dirt and rubble.

When they almost magically disappeared the moment they hit the tree line on the other side, Joule had a good idea of what the terrain was like.

The tornado had scrubbed the ground and left it soft, churned, and full of rocks and trash. Though she’d been intending to keep