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

And it was hungry.

Cage considered stopping the car and pulling to the side of the road, but somehow, it felt safer to stay in motion.

Reaching out, Dev put a hand on his arm as if to calm him. “We need to find a house and get inside somewhere. We need shelter.”

So the tornado could lift his car and steal it, too? Cage thought bitterly. It wasn’t the car that he was so protective of, it was his ability to search for his sister. The very thought of Joule being alone, on foot, out here tightened everything inside him, though he knew without question that his friend was right.

“Look around,” he instructed. “Find us a place with a good cellar or substructure… something.”

Maybe they would get lucky and pass a huge “Tornado shelter” billboard with an arrow pointing to a solid structure.

In the distance, the funnel danced softly, almost rhythmically, twisting right then left. The gray color changed ever so slightly as it moved, and Cage wondered if the color was a function of what it ate. But as he watched, it seemed the weight of the clouds pushed down into the funnel, and it grew wider and wider.

With a last sudden change of direction and a moment in which it simply took a breath and grew, the twister headed straight toward them.

39

“Come inside! We have a shelter!”

Cage recognize the sound of a bullhorn, but not the voice. As one, he and Deveron whipped their heads to the right, noticing the man on the porch as he waved his hands high, holding a bullhorn that completed the picture.

Without making a conscious decision, Cage cranked the wheel. The car spun tires as it tracked too quickly from pavement to gravel. The small sedan fishtailed a little before he managed to get it back on track.

The squat house waited for them at the end of the short drive. Cage could see the nice people who had decided to take pity on the pair driving past and save their lives.

As he got closer, he saw more than just the people waving them up the drive. Hands were in windows, pushing them open. The door flung wide, but to let others in. He and Dev weren’t the only ones arriving. There must be an entire team of people inside, enacting whatever twister protocol they had. This was a normal-looking house, and it must have survived the first twisters that came through. They must have thought their day fighting storms was finished and already closed the windows from round one.

The man stepped down off the porch, the wind whipping what little hair he had combed over the top into a wild caricature. But his kind face matched his hands as he motioned Cage to bring the car to a stop. Then he waved them slightly one way and then the other, until he had them positioned where he wanted them.

He was leaving their car in the open. As Cage twisted the key out of the ignition and climbed out, he must have had an odd look on his face, because the man yelled, his voice pulled away as the winds picked up. “You don't want to be next to a tree or a structure. More likely something will fall on your car. Though honestly, it's a crapshoot.”

He shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” What he did say was, “Come inside, we have a real shelter.”

Though he was older and not in as good shape as the two young men, he waited for the two to catch up and even move past him. He settled a hand at Cage’s back, steering him up the steps and through the open front door. He didn't even bother to close it behind them. But in the short time it had taken them to enter the house, the wind had grown more forceful and Cage heard it slap the door shut behind them.

Ice flooded his veins—but not for himself. He had people and a shelter. But what about his sister? Where was she? Was she even alive? What about Izzy? Because, to a certain extent, Cage believed that Joule could survive anything.

Joule had faced night hunters on her own before they even knew what they were. Joule had been smart enough to buy boats before the waters rose. And if Joule had a pop-up tornado shelter in her pocket, he wouldn't say he was surprised.

But Izzy? As smart as she was, he didn’t know if she was the kind of survivor that would make it through…

The man ushered the two of them into the center of the house. In the living room, Cage could see the rug had been rolled back, revealing an open square that led down concrete steps into a space that must have been dug out underneath the low house.

Again the man followed behind them, as though to keep them safe. He was short, portly and balding, but still he protected them. He waited on the top step, carefully maneuvering himself through an odd dance to pull the trapdoor up and over. Closing it tightly, he started on a series of heavily bolted locks. As simple as they were, the construction was beyond solid. The bolts and eyes were thick, and the door made of steel.

Once he had the loops lined up, Cage helped the man slide a pin through a series of curved bars. They would stay in place even if they were flung around with high winds. And Cage thought that was smarter than maybe having a padlock that might require someone to have a key. Because as much as the tornado was locked out, the people were locked in.

When all five bars were in place and the door fully secured, Cage’s heart settled just a little, feeling that they were safe and secure.

An F6 could raze the building above them, or blow it up, or steal it away. But this place looked like it would stay.

He turned, almost running