14. Ozrik
Ozrik
“Iwas fifteen when I chased my first tornado, and I did it on a freaking BMX.”
Noah chuckled, and the camera bounced on his shoulder. “Stop making me laugh, or this shot is going to be wonky.”
“You could use a tripod,” Vern said.
“Who cares. It’s supposed to be real.” I adjusted myself on the couch to ensure my best side was showing.
Noah rolled a hand. “Keep going. I’ll edit this part out.”
“You can’t keep editing shit. They’re going to know.”
“Shut up, Vern. Oz, talk, for fuck’s sake. You’re stealing all the time.”
My best friend looked annoyed at Noah’s reprimand, but I kept going. We were getting behind.
“It was a warm day at the beginning of May. I had an algebra test I didn’t study for.
Elk City was under a tornado watch, but it’s such a common occurrence in our neck of the woods that teachers barely make noise.
It’s life as usual. Meanwhile, I remember praying the alarms would sound, and we’d have to take shelter. I needed one more day to study.”
“Like that would have helped.” Vern snickered.
I shot him the finger.
Noah made a gesture, indicating I needed to stay on track.
“I paid more attention to the sky out the window than my English teacher blabbing about Shakespeare or some crap. Sorry, Mr. Guthery. If you’re watching, I enjoyed Hamlet. Sort of. The parts I understood.
“Anyhow, luck was not on my side. The dark clouds had moved in, the sky was an awful shade of ugly, but the advisory hadn’t changed. Third period loomed ever closer, so I decided it was time to get the fuck gone.”
Noah lowered the camera, a look of exasperation on his face. “You can’t keep swearing.”
“It was one swear. They can censor it. Besides, we swear in all our videos. It’s our thing. Not swearing will be less authentic. We need realism.”
“The show rating is PG.”
“Said who?”
“I don’t know. Never mind. Keep going.” Noah brought the camera up and shouted, “Quiet on set.” We didn’t have a set, and no one was making noise. He earned a few eye rolls.
Noah gave me a signal to continue. He was too serious. This was reality TV. I wasn’t about to play a role.
We’d been recording our personal stories all morning as Charles suggested in one of his emails. He wanted everyone to tell a short tale of how they got into chasing and about their first encounter with a tornado.
“I didn’t have a driver’s license at fifteen and biked to school every day.
I roared out of there, uncaring that we had a storm moving in.
I couldn’t go home, and since everyone in town knows me by name, I couldn’t hit the local library or a coffee shop, either.
Someone would snitch that I wasn’t in class, or they would call my mother. ”
“That would have been more disastrous,” Vern said from behind Noah, where he monitored the interview.
“Let him tell it,” Noah admonished.
“I’m only pissed he didn’t drag me out of class with him. Some best friend you are.”
Noah cast daggers over his shoulder at Vern, who made a point of zipping his lips.
I’d volunteered to go first for the interviews.
Apart from Vern, the others busied themselves as they waited their turns.
We were camped out in Lex’s garage, as was usual.
Elliott sat at the desk, monitoring a growing storm system in Kansas.
Lex had the bug’s hood up, forever tinkering with her guts, and Vern played director, much to Noah’s annoyance.
“I ended up on a county road outside of town. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea.
” I chuckled, remembering it. “When the sirens wailed, I was two or three miles from town. I remember it was eerily calm, as if Mother Nature was holding her breath. The sky churned, the color of poison. In the east, I saw what looked like a wall of rain coming toward me. I stopped my bike and watched. I had no sense of what I was looking at. I wouldn’t have recognized an updraft at fifteen if I was standing in it.
“I didn’t see the ground rotation or any signs of vortices because I didn’t know what to look for. After a few minutes, what I did see was a massive funnel growing out of the swirling clouds overhead, and I thought, oh fuck.”
Noah chuckled.
“I didn’t hop on my bike and race off.”
“Because you have a death wish,” Vern muttered.
“No, I stood there as that sucker developed and touched down. Full-blown fucking tornado. Right there in front of me. That stupid fifteen-year-old kid had no idea the freaking luck he had, witnessing something that beautiful.”
“Most people wouldn’t call that luck, Oz.”
“Would you shut up,” Noah barked at Vern. “It’s his story. Not yours.”
“Oh boy,” I continued. “Then, there was wind. It came up out of nowhere. The tornado was probably three or so miles away, not nearly as close as we get nowadays, but I was more excited than scared.”
“What did you do?” Noah prompted.
“I pounded my chest like a Neanderthal and howled at it.”
Vern snorted. “You still do shit like that.”
I demonstrated, calling everyone’s attention.
Noah laughed. “We really need to get your head examined.”
“It only lasted a few minutes. Must have been a pretty weak one, but the surge of adrenaline I got… Fuck drugs. This was a thousand times better than any high. Man, I can’t describe it. For weeks after, I buzzed with energy and harassed Vern, retelling it over and over.”
“He did. My god, it was annoying.”
Noah swung the camera around to film Vern, prompting him to go ahead and speak for a change.
“Those stories got more and more convoluted every time he told them until he wanted me to believe him and his bike had been lifted off the ground temporarily like some Wizard of Oz bullshit.”
I laughed. “It could have happened.”
Noah pivoted, returning the camera’s focus to me. “And that started your obsession with tornadoes?”
“Yep. I chased that high like a heroin addict. Still do. I studied everything about them. Learned about weather patterns and what to look for. I wanted that moment back. That adrenaline rush. I wanted to be closer. Feed off its energy. Vern became my willing accomplice. The following spring, we went on our first official chase. We were sixteen. Vern had his license and a car, and we both had no shits to give.”
“It was my dad’s old Buick,” Vern said. “Remember that piece of shit?”
“A real clunker.”
“And did you get to see another one that year?” Noah asked.
“Nah. We didn’t know what we were doing.
Chasing is an art. It takes skill. You have to understand how to read radar and know the signs.
We were amateurs. You can’t jump in cold and expect results.
Hell, even if you know what you’re doing, you don’t always get a positive outcome.
Mother Nature doesn’t play by the rules.
She keeps you guessing. But I’m not a quitter, and here we are. ”
Since our stories were so closely entwined, Vern took over the hot spot. Our first successful chase was technically his first encounter. I gave him the battered couch and went to see how Elliott was making out.
It had been a week since our first chase of the season.
We might not have witnessed a tornado, but we’d gotten pretty close.
CineVision was over the moon with all the footage we’d submitted.
Charles had found my number and had been texting regularly.
Our rescue mission had won points. It was no secret that the guy wanted Twisted Fates for his show.
So, when he offered tips and hints to keep us on top, we listened.
Hence, the interviews depicting our first encounters.
“We should head there soon,” Elliott said as I leaned over his shoulder to view the screen. “This system has been building to a crescendo all week. I like it for Thursday afternoon or early evening. Watch.”
I took in the progression as it clicked through time on the radar. Elliott was right.
“We’ll discuss it once Noah finishes the interviews. I’m all about a road trip.” Anything to get me away from home for a few days.
My pocket buzzed with an incoming call. If my mother was phoning, she was ten seconds from sending Sheriff Barclay to find me. Sighing heavily—I’d been dancing around her all week—I withdrew the device and made my way to the open garage door for privacy.
Her recent episode had yet to dissolve. Avoidance was the wrong tactic. The less attention I paid her, the worse she got.
I was about to tap the screen to accept the call, but the name on the display gave me pause. It wasn’t my mother. It was Olivia Windrow.
Why was she calling? Better question. How the fuck did she get my number? It was a little late for a lecture about rescuing her brother. If she was going to bitch about that, I expected she would have done it by now. It had been five days.
Before the call rolled to voicemail, I tapped to accept. “Yeah.”
“I hear you have a crush on me, Devereaux.”
I nearly choked on my spit as I laughed. “Fucking Vern.”
I yelled loud enough that my best friend shouted from the garage. “What did I do?”
“You wish, Windrow. You’re not my type.”
“Good. The feeling is mutual. Are you tracking the system out in Kansas?”
“Obviously, but since I don’t collude with the enemy—”
“Shut up. Did you steal my brother?”
“Did I—” I was getting whiplash. “What? Did I steal your brother? When? Last week? No, I rescued Gale from—”
“Not last week. Right now. This week.”
“Huh? I’m confused.”
Olivia went silent before muttering, “Never mind. It was far-fetched.”
“What are you talking about? Can you speak English?”
“What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Last week. When you and your crew absconded with him. He was upset after. What did you do?”
“I didn’t upset him. Why are you attacking me?”