Chapter 25
Marcus
“Tornado warning issued for Sagebrush,” I said into my radio as I drove through town. The loudspeaker on top of my pickup blasted my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Seek shelter immediately. I repeat, a tornado warning has been issued for Sagebrush. Seek shelter immediately.”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I made another pass down Main Street, watching people hurry toward the shelter.
Dolly stood in the doorway of her diner, ushering the last of her customers out.
She caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up before locking the door and heading toward the shelter herself.
The sky had taken on that sickly green color I’d learned to recognize over my years as sheriff. The air felt wrong. It was too still, too heavy, like the whole world was holding its breath. I’d seen storms like this before, but something about today made my skin crawl.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out at a red light, even though the streets were nearly empty now.
Xavier: Getting worse. We’re moving what we can.
My chest tightened. The ranch was southwest of town, right in the storm’s projected path. I wanted to tell him to forget the wedding stuff and just get underground, but I knew Xavier well enough by now to know he wouldn’t abandon Lucas and Beau’s big day without a fight.
Me: Storm’s tracking northeast. Might miss you entirely or might hit dead on. They won’t know for another hour.
I paused, my thumb hovering over the screen. Then I added:
Me: Stay inside once you’re done. Promise me.
His response came quickly.
Xavier: I promise. You be safe too.
Me: Always am.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and continued my circuit through town. Most of the businesses were shuttered now, their owners either in the shelter or hunkered down at home. I spotted old Mr. Chen still trying to board up his hardware store windows.
I pulled over and rolled down my window. “Mr. Chen! You need to get to the shelter, now!”
He looked up, hammer in hand. “Almost done, Sheriff. Just two more boards—”
“Leave it,” I ordered, putting the truck in park and jumping out. “That tornado’s maybe ten minutes out. Those boards won’t matter if you’re dead.”
Something in my tone must have gotten through to him because he dropped the hammer and nodded. I helped him into my truck and drove him the three blocks to the shelter, practically pushing him through the door.
Mrs. Baxter was inside, checking names off on a clipboard. She looked up when I entered, her face creased with worry.
“That everyone?” I asked.
“Everyone I can account for,” she replied. “The Hendersons are sheltering at their place since they’ve got that reinforced basement. The Millers headed out of town this morning to visit family. But Sheriff, what about you?”
“I’m doing one more sweep,” I said, already backing toward the door. “Make sure nobody’s stranded.”
“Marcus—”
“Lock this door behind me,” I interrupted. “Don’t open it for anyone but me or emergency services. You understand?”
She opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. “Be careful.”
I was back in my truck before she could say anything else. The wind had picked up significantly, buffeting the vehicle as I drove. Debris skittered across the road—papers, leaves, someone’s lawn chair tumbling end over end.
My radio crackled. “Sheriff Webb, this is County Emergency. Tornado confirmed on the ground, fifteen miles west of your location and closing fast. You need to take shelter immediately.”
“Copy that,” I said, scanning the streets as I drove. “Just making sure everyone’s accounted for.”
“Sheriff, that’s an EF-2 at minimum. You need to—”
Static cut off the rest of her words. I smacked the radio, but the connection was dead. Cell tower must have gone down.
I tried my phone next, pulling up Xavier’s contact. No signal. Nothing.
“Dammit,” I muttered, fighting down the panic rising in my throat. I needed to know he was safe. Needed to hear his voice one more time, just in case—
No. I wasn’t thinking like that. Xavier was fine. The ranch was built to withstand storms. He was probably in the cellar right now with Lucas and Beau, safe and dry and completely fine.
I had to believe that.
A flash of movement caught my eye. There was someone running between buildings on the west side of town. I squinted through the windshield, trying to make out who it was in the rapidly dimming light.
Mrs. Patterson. The elderly widow who lived alone in that little blue house on Elm Street.
I yanked the wheel hard, tires squealing as I turned down her street. She was trying to make it to her house, bent almost double against the wind, her walker clattering uselessly beside her.
I pulled up next to her and jumped out. “Mrs. Patterson! Get in the truck!”
“My cats!” she shouted over the wind. “I left them in the house! I have to—”
“I’ll get your cats,” I promised, guiding her firmly toward the passenger side. “But you need to get to the shelter now.”
“But Mittens doesn’t like strangers, and Whiskers hides when he’s scared—”
“I’ll find them,” I said, practically lifting her into the truck. “I promise.”
The roar was building now, that freight train sound every Texan knew to fear. I looked west and felt my blood run cold.
The tornado was visible now, a massive dark funnel stretching from the clouds to the ground, maybe five miles out and moving fast. Debris swirled around it like a halo of destruction.
I had minutes. Maybe less.
I gunned the engine, racing toward the shelter. Mrs. Patterson clutched the door handle, her lips moving in silent prayer. I screeched to a stop outside the shelter and half-carried her to the door, pounding on it with my fist.
“Mrs. Baxter! Open up!”
The door swung open immediately. Mrs. Baxter took one look at Mrs. Patterson, then at the approaching tornado, and her face went white.
“Marcus, get inside—”
“I’m going back for her cats,” I said, already turning away.
“You’ll die!”
“Then make sure someone tells Xavier I’m sorry,” I called over my shoulder, running back to my truck.
I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing as I drove back to Mrs. Patterson’s house.
Didn’t let myself think about Xavier, about everything we’d just started to build together, about the fact that I might never see him again.
I just focused on the house ahead, on finding those damn cats before the tornado ripped everything apart.
Mrs. Patterson’s front door was unlocked, swinging open when I pushed on it. The wind was so strong now it nearly tore the door off its hinges. I stumbled inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim interior.
“Mittens! Whiskers!” I called, feeling ridiculous even as I did it. “Here kitty, kitty!”
The house groaned around me, the walls shuddering. Through the windows I could see the funnel cloud getting closer, maybe three miles out now. Debris was already raining down—shingles, branches, things I couldn’t identify.
I heard a meow from somewhere upstairs. Of course they were upstairs.
I took the steps two at a time, my boots thundering on the old wood. The roar outside was deafening now, drowning out everything else. My ears popped from the pressure change.
“Come on, cats!” I shouted, throwing open doors. “We don’t have time for this!”
I found Mittens, a fat orange tabby, hiding under the bed in the master bedroom. I grabbed her, ignoring her yowls of protest and the claws digging into my arm. One down.
“Whiskers!” I called, tucking Mittens under one arm while I searched. The windows rattled violently in their frames. The whole house was shaking now.
A black and white cat shot out from behind the dresser, heading for the stairs. I lunged for him, catching him by the scruff just as the windows exploded inward.
Glass rained down around me. I turned my back, shielding the cats with my body as shards pelted my shoulders and back. The roar was everything now, so loud I couldn’t hear myself think.
I ran for the stairs, both cats struggling in my grip. The front door was still open, but debris was flying past it now. There were boards, metal, and what looked like someone’s entire shed. The tornado was right on top of us.
I wasn’t going to make it to the shelter. I knew that with absolute certainty.
I changed direction mid-stairs, heading for the basement door instead. Mrs. Patterson’s house was old, built back when every home had a proper storm cellar. It was my only chance.
I kicked open the basement door and nearly fell down the steep steps in my haste. The cats were screeching, terrified, but I held on tight. Behind me, I heard the sound of the house beginning to tear apart. Wood splintered, glass shattered, and the roar of wind sounded like the end of the world.
I hit the bottom of the stairs and dove under the old wooden workbench in the corner, curling my body around the cats. Above me, the house screamed.
The sound was indescribable. Metal twisting, wood exploding, the freight train roar so loud it felt like my eardrums would burst. The pressure made my head feel like it was going to split open. I squeezed my eyes shut, held those damn cats as tight as I could, and thought about Xavier.
His smile. His laugh. The way he’d looked at me this morning, soft and smiling, making me feel something I’d been too scared to say out loud.
I was sorry. So fucking sorry that I wouldn’t get to tell him I loved him. Sorry that we’d only had days instead of years. Sorry that I’d been too much of a coward to say the words when I had the chance.
The roar reached a crescendo that couldn’t possibly get any louder, and then—
Silence.
Not complete silence. Rain pounded on what was left of the structure above me. Wind still howled. But that freight train sound was gone, moving away to the northeast.
I stayed frozen under the workbench for another minute, maybe two, waiting to make sure it was really over. The cats had gone still in my arms, their little hearts hammering against my chest.
Slowly, carefully, I uncurled myself and looked up.
Where the basement stairs had been, there was now open sky. The entire first floor of Mrs. Patterson’s house was just... gone. Ripped clean away. Rain fell through the opening, soaking me instantly.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered.
I climbed out from under the workbench on shaking legs, still clutching the cats. The basement walls had held, but everything above them had been reduced to rubble scattered across the property. If I’d stayed upstairs even ten seconds longer...
I didn’t let myself finish that thought.
Getting out of the basement was harder than getting in had been, since there were no stairs anymore. It took me nearly twenty minutes to pile up debris and climb out. And I had to be extra careful not to drop the cats or impale myself on the jagged wood and metal everywhere.
When I finally pulled myself up onto ground level, the devastation took my breath away.
Mrs. Patterson’s house was gone. The house next to it was missing its entire roof. Across the street, a car had been flipped upside down and wrapped around a tree. Power lines hung everywhere like deadly spider webs. My truck was nowhere to be seen.
And in the distance, I could see the tornado still churning, now several miles to the northeast. Moving away from town.
Moving toward the ranches or through them. I couldn’t tell.
My phone was somehow still in my pocket, though the screen was cracked. I pulled it out with trembling fingers. Still no signal.
I started walking toward the shelter, my legs unsteady beneath me. The cats had finally stopped struggling, seeming to realize I’d saved their lives. It was a small comfort.
Every step felt surreal. I was alive. I shouldn’t be alive, but I was. And now all I could think about was whether Xavier was okay. Whether the ranch had been hit. Whether he was hurt or trapped or—
I shoved that thought away violently. He was fine. He had to be fine.
The shelter came into view, its concrete walls intact.
Thank God. I picked up my pace, breaking into a jog despite my exhausted muscles.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been gone, but at least the shelter was still intact.
From a distance I could see Mrs. Baxter standing by the open door with Beau and Lucas.
It must’ve taken me longer than I thought to get out of that basement.
“Sheriff!” Mrs. Baxter called out, her face fighting between relief and anger. “You’re okay!”
I jogged up to the shelter. “Is Xavier okay?” I asked, desperately looking between Beau and Lucas.
“He’s looking for you inside,” Lucas replied, giving me a once over. “Are you alright?”
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I shoved a cat into his arms and another into Beau’s. “Those belong to Mrs. Patterson.”
“Marcus!” I heard a familiar voice call from inside.
Without a second thought I pushed past the three of them into the shelter. “Xavier? Xavier!”
I’d barely made it ten feet in the door when I saw him. His hair was a mess, his clothes soaked through, and even from this distance I could see his face was blotchy like he’d been crying.
“Marcus!” His voice cracked on my name, raw with emotion.
Xavier crashed into me hard enough that I stumbled backward, his arms wrapping around me with desperate strength. He was shaking, or maybe I was shaking, or maybe we both were.
But I didn’t care. He was alright. We both were. And that was all that mattered.
“You idiot,” he sobbed against my neck. “You complete fucking idiot. I thought—”
But he didn’t get to finish. I swept him up in my arms, kissing him hard. He melted into me, his hands fisted in my shirt. When I finally pulled away, breathless and relieved, I didn’t care that everyone was staring.
“I love you, Xavier,” I said before he could speak. “I love you so much.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at me. “I… I love you too you fucking idiot.”