Chapter 7
I gasp myself awake; the air holds something eerie and dangerous. An ominous quiet. A nightmare waiting to attack. Sirens ring outside, and I’m out of bed with nothing but my towel on, yanking the curtains open.
Darkness spreads over the plains, rain clouds as far as the eye can see.
Snatching sweats and a T-shirt from my suitcase, I toss the towel on the edge of the bed and get dressed, then run outside.
The wind whips my hair so hard it lashes across my cheeks. My eyes water from the force, tears gathering on my bottom lashes. Hail is the size of golf balls, landing on windshields that crack from the force.
This is my fault. I told everyone to take the day off. We could have been tracking this supercell, and we could have given everyone enough time to get to safety.
“Oh my god.” I stumble back when the rain clears, lifting like a curtain for me to see the destruction heading in my direction.
It’s a massive cone tornado, spanning at least fifty yards wide. The black clouds swirl and twist; a demonic growl that only promises Hell whirls around me.
A warning to take cover as quickly as I can.
I glance down to see people running to the storm shelter, but a few don’t make it. They get caught in the vacuum of low pressure and are lifted from their feet, tossed in the air like useless debris.
People run to their cars, and I dash down the steps, hissing when I step on broken glass. “No! Don’t get in your cars! Don’t. Stop! Seek shelter!” They can’t hear me through the howling wind.
Their headlights cut through the darkness, the beams swallowed by the sardonic force coming right at us. People from inside the car scream when their car drags across the road. I cover my mouth in horror when they lift into the air.
The funnel swallows them, the headlights disappearing behind the swirling wall. As if the storm is picky with what it eats, the twirling mouth spits them back out, then slings them down the road.
The car is a crumbled-up piece of paper after it crashes against the pavement.
I slip as the wind becomes stronger and grip the rail I don’t trust. “Ah!” I grit through tight teeth, pulling myself up the stairs with all my strength.
Rain becomes sharp in this kind of weather, like mini knives trying to pierce the skin. I lift my arm to protect my eyes and dash to the room. The door rips from the hinges, and I duck, the corner slamming against my head.
A piercing pain echoes through my skull, and I fall to the ground, crawling to the tub—the safest place I know of for now, since there’s no time to get to the storm shelter.
Blood drips into my vision, and I do what I can to wipe it away, but I add to the stains on the carpet, becoming part of the motel’s history.
I pull myself across the floor, digging my nails in to grip the fibers. I fight against the wind trying to take me. When I’m close enough to the bathroom, I look over my shoulder to see the tornado in throwing-stone distance.
Bursting into the bathroom, I kick the door shut and throw myself into the tub. It’s silly, but I hold on to the silver faucet for support. The wind becomes harsher; the growls louder and more malicious.
I scream at the top of my lungs. I can’t even hear myself over the guttural roar of the storm. A loud creak of wood splintering has me looking up, witnessing the roof tearing off.
I’m left staring at a furious sky, the intense strength of the wind ripping the shower curtain from the rod.
My heart is pounding, my thoughts drifting to my team, to Ruka, to my parents, and Oklahoma.
There’s something about Oklahoma.
I’m not going to get the chance to say what I want to say to him. That I’m connected to him in a way that I don’t understand, and I want him to tell me why he doesn’t want me, why he keeps playing hot and cold with my hope.
The tub groans, and I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see what will happen next. I’m too scared. A loud crack jostles the floor, followed by a moan within the walls.
When the tub tilts downward as the walls and floor separate, I grip the edges for dear life. The motel crumbles to useless pieces, the foundation caving in, the structure collapsing from the strength of the tornado.
One last snap of a beam and that’s all it takes for the tub to finally give way, free-falling to the ground.
I hit so hard, my head snaps back, slamming against the unforgiving white-coated cast iron.
My vision swims, my body is drowsy, and drops of rain pelt against my body, dinging against the tub. Before it all goes black.
I open my eyes and look up; the pieces of carpet float and dance through the air like feathers drifting in a breeze. Quiet surrounds me. The pitter-patter of water dripping is all I can hear.
Pressing one hand against the bottom of the tub, I hold onto the edge to lift myself up, needing to find a way out of the rubble. My vision sways, and I narrow my gaze, then rub my eyes to get a clearer sight.
Drywall, huge beams, pipes, and pieces of the roof fill the space. It’s dark with only bits of light pouring in through small holes.
Touching the back of my head, I wince when blood coats my fingers.
Pain shoots down my neck when I look up. The TV is dangling off an edge that used to be a floor. The black cord stretches to capacity, the large screen flickering with static. A beam supporting the TV cracks in half, giving gravity what it needs to make the television unplug.
I curl into a ball, wrapping my hands around my head to protect myself.
As the TV tumbles, crashing into metal pipes and broken structure beams, pieces of it clatter into the tub. I scream when it finally lands; the old box television clobbers another supportive beam next to me, and what remains of the floor above falls.
A combination of debris hits me, but it’s the heavy pipes cracking that almost crush me. They collide with the tub, lying over me to trap me in the dark.
Water spills from a hole in the metal, cold and harsh against my skin. My teeth chatter, mostly from fear that this might be where I die.
I uncurl from my position, every limb on my body shaking. Rolling to my back, I stare up at the pipes blocking me, trapping me in the tub. Pressing my hands against the wet, rusted metal, I push, screaming at the top of my lungs, giving everything I have.
And it doesn’t budge.
“Help!” I shout, my pleas echoing in the chamber I find myself stuck in.
“Someone! Ruka! Millie!” My throat becomes raw and sore, calling out for minutes.
“Somebody! Can anyone hear me!” I try pushing against the pipes again, only to cut my hand on a jagged, sharp edge.
“Fuck!” I hiss, blood dripping down my palm.
Ripping the bottom of my shirt, I wrap it around my hand, creating a makeshift bandage, hoping it’s enough to stop the bleeding. I don’t want to think about how dirty the wound is. Blood spreads across the material immediately, like wildfire eating the dry forest on a hot, windy day.
Pressing my palms flat against the pipe, I push as hard as I can again, the wound stinging and splitting more from the pressure.
“Ah! Fuck!” I slam my fist against what’s blocking me, the metal echo reverberating through the air.
Taking a big breath in, I do my best to calm down, to not panic. I’m alive. That’s step one.
Check.
Now, I need someone to hear me down here.
Glancing at my feet, I scoot down, my head flat against the bottom of the tub.
Pipes cover one half of my makeshift coffin while a large chunk of debris cages me in from the bottom.
I can’t tell when it’s so dark. Placing my feet shoulder-width apart on the debris, I shout as I try to free myself.
An iron metallic taste blooms in my throat.
Nothing moves. It’s all too heavy.
I collapse, lying in the bath and struggling to catch my breath. I’m not going to get out of here unless someone hears me. That’s the only way.
“Hello! Can anybody hear me?” I knock on the pipes next, hoping the sound will travel to get someone’s attention.
If only I had my phone. I have no clue where it is. It’s probably on the other side of the state by now.
“Think, Nariko. Think.” My eyes well with tears, panic setting in. There’s nothing for me to do except wait.
I should be relieved when I hear sirens in the distance. Help is on the way. The only issue is that when the rescuers see how the motel has been flattened, they won’t be in a hurry to find survivors. They will convince themselves they are looking for dead bodies.
I refuse to die in a damn old motel tub.
I’ve chased for years. Storms, lightning, wind, rain, anything and everything when it comes to weather.
I’ve never had to take cover in a tornado before.
I’ve always been a safe distance away. It proves that no one can be ready for what Mother Nature will bring.
Even as a trained professional, no one can be fully prepared for the wrath that happens when a tornado hits.
It’s fast. It’s strong. It’s deadly.
And nearly nothing can be done except to hope that we make out alive.
“Is anyone there?” I cry out again, my voice trapped in the crumbled prison.
“I’m down here!” I bang my fist against the pipes.
“I’m down here! Can anyone hear me? Ruka!
Ruka, I’m here! Millie!” I scream so loud, the tears break free, rolling down my cheek in warm lines.
“Fuck,” I whisper, knowing my attempts are worthless.
A loud crack comes from the left. I hold my breath to hear if someone is there or if the rest of the building is going to fall down on me.
“Nariko! Nariko? Sugar? Call out to me, please.”
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand in shock. There’s no way that’s who I think it is. “Oklahoma! Oklahoma, I’m here! I’m here. Oh my god, please, get me out!” I sob, pounding the pipes to create as much noise as possible.
The pipes are gone when I blink my eyes. He’s tossed them to the side as if they weighed nothing. That’s impossible. I couldn’t move them an inch. How did he throw them so easily?