24. Gale
Gale
Gale
We didn’t talk. I wasn’t sure what to say, and worried obsessively about what the others might conclude from Ozrik’s heroic attempt to save me from myself. I saw the look on Olivia’s face and the questions in Vern’s eyes. My stomach had been unsettled since from both fear and excitement.
I glanced at my unexpected partner.
Ozrik’s whole concentration seemed to be on the road. Every now and then, the radio wedged between his thighs chirped, and Maggie’s broken voice came through with updates. He clutched the steering wheel with both hands as the car shuddered in the gusting wind.
The clouds spat fat drops of rain sporadically at the windshield. It wasn’t quite raining, but the violence of the storm was ramping up. The sky was tarnished green; a witch’s pot about to boil over.
Four miles outside of the city, I lost connection on the iPad and my cell phone. “Dammit.”
“No signal?”
“No.”
“I figured it wouldn’t last. Hopefully Vern and Roe don’t lead us astray. They should have had you and me on radar.”
But that meant traveling in Twisted Fates’ car.
Ozrik smacked my thigh. “But this is cool too, eh, partner?” He winked before returning his gaze to the road. “You, me, and the open road.”
“And God wreaking havoc from above.”
“I’m a sinner, and he knows it.” Ozrik belted the lyrics to the chorus of “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC before laughing and whooping. Then he squinted at the sky, shouting, “Bring it, Daddy. Show me what you’ve got.”
“You’re certifiable.”
“It’s in my DNA. Stella Devereaux’s only son. Can’t be helped.”
I shifted uncomfortably. The comment was not meant as a reflection on his mental health. I should have kept my mouth shut.
He touched my thigh again, leaving his hand there. “I know it was a joke, Gale.”
I nodded and tried to relax. “We were coming up on the hook before I lost connection. Reports of two vortices in the area.”
I leaned forward to study the sky. It was a better map than the one I’d been staring at on the screen, anyhow.
“That’s a nice-looking wall ahead of us.” I pointed.
“That’s where we’re aimed.”
Maggie came through the radio. “We’re pulling over ahead. Roe sees ground rotation, and Vern thinks it’s going to produce based on these clouds and their movement.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Ozrik snapped up the radio. “We’re too far away. Get us closer, dammit. Tell Vern to stop being a pussy.”
No one responded, and Ozrik cursed when the brake lights in Olivia’s car lit up. Not that I wanted to get closer to the action, but he was right. The patterns we were seeing held promise, but I would have gone another mile or mile and a half farther along.
As Ozrik pulled over behind my sister, I removed my camera from its bag and slung it around my neck, reminding myself that I was here for pictures.
Nothing more. Ideas for a potential article had been stirring lately.
The group could do their thing, and I would do mine.
I didn’t have to like it, but with this new spin, I could accept it.
Besides, taking pictures made me look occupied.
The second we tumbled from the car, Ozrik shouted, “We’re way too far away. What is this? Amateur hour?”
Vern, either not hearing or not caring, pointed at the wall cloud, “You see that upward motion?”
“Only if I squint because it’s so far away.”
“Shut up. She wants to produce. We can always move.”
Ozrik continued to argue with his friend.
Olivia, Jazz, Roe, and Lex joined in. Everyone had a different opinion, and they all seemed to forget the objective.
I wasn’t about to point it out. Conflict was not my thing, so I adjusted a few settings on my camera and took pictures.
Reading the sky, I focused on the promising signs of a tornado but angled my lens elsewhere.
On trees bent from the wind on the horizon.
On the swirling eddies of dirt in the distance.
On the textured formation of the clouds.
Catching them unaware, I took a few pictures of the team as they interacted and fought.
No one bothered me. Hell, like usual, no one noticed me. I moved through the world unseen, building a portfolio to develop when I got home. I changed the film at one point and kept going.
I was the first to notice a forming vortex. Aiming my lens, I took a few shots. The mesmerizing display of nature took me back to the first chase and my wonderstruck connection with God. Again, I felt small and all too aware of my insignificance on earth.
Before I could point out the building phenomena, the group stopped arguing and, without warning, frantically dashed to their vehicles because Ozrik was right. We were too far away.
Fearing he would leave without me, I hustled to get in before Ozrik shot off down the road behind the others.
“Did you see it?” he asked.
“I was photographing it.”
He howled and pounded the steering wheel. His smile dug deep brackets beside his mouth. “I fucking love this.”
I could tell. He vibrated and crackled with energy.
Chasing storms meant lots of driving, stopping, and shouting above the wind. It meant reading the sky and making predictions. It was the true definition of a chase, but with an unpredictable foe. It meant constantly guessing and betting on the data.
Like the first time I’d gone out with Olivia and the team, the vortex never grew to fruition.
It swirled and stretched and promised to descend more than once.
We drove, stopped, and drove some more. No matter where we went, it was never the right spot.
No matter how many wishes were sent skyward, they didn’t come true.
I moved with the ever-changing flow, remaining on the sidelines.
I collected still images: bricks I would later use to construct a story.
A story I hoped might interest the magazine.
Avoiding the chaos of people and their opinions was easy and natural.
I was used to hiding in plain sight. I took snapshots left and right and loaded new film into the camera as needed.
The others filmed the storm and each other, giving Charles a taste of the adrenaline rush involved.
After a time, I joined them, staring at the sky as I thought about the past, the present, and the future. Who was I, and where was I going?
I silently prayed, asking for guidance. Show me the way. Where do I go? What do I do? Is there peace for me? Give me strength. Give me courage. Lord, give me hope. “I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered to the heavens.
The wind beat at my face and ruffled my hair. I closed my eyes and thought of how small I was in the grand scheme of things. How insignificant.
I had so many questions about life, but my prayers seemed to get lost in the mail. I knew He listened. I knew He watched, but why wouldn’t He show me the way? Why did He leave me to flounder and suffer?
As the storm died, so too did the frantic chase.
Rain arrived. Night fell.
My turmoil remained.
Everyone was exhausted. The teams decided to call it and head back to the motel.
Tension rippled through everyone, and I suspected they were displeased with the outcome.
As I stared across a bleak horizon, lost in thought, doors slammed behind me. Sheet lightning flashed. The thunder never came. Lex and Olivia’s vehicles pulled away, their taillights vanishing down the country road.
Ozrik approached and stood beside me. He removed his headcam and fiddled with it—I assumed to turn it off—before stuffing it into a pocket, then he removed mine and did the same. I’d forgotten all about them.
“I hate these things. Fuck Charles and his fucking show. He’s ruining everything.”
Ozrik stared across the distant field, his nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale. After a minute, his shoulders fell, and he peered sidelong at me.
Rain speckled his face, and his hair suffered the aftereffects of the storm.
I couldn’t help smirking.
“What?”
Hesitantly, I reached out and pushed sodden strands off his forehead. “You’re windblown.”
Chuckling, he caught my hand and weaved our fingers together, dragging me closer until we were toe to toe.
My stomach fluttered. So, this was a thing we did now. Touching. Sharing space.
“Tonight sucked,” he said. “Reports say there were three touchdowns in the area, and we saw fuck all.”
“Isn’t… fuck all expected?”
Ozrik quirked a brow.
“What?”
“Is swearing normal for you?”
“I was quoting. It doesn’t count, but I swear. On occasion.”
Ozrik seemed amused. “To answer your question, yes. It’s the norm. You can chase dozens of storms throughout the season, but the chances of seeing one are slimmer than most people think.”
“How many have you seen in your chasing days?”
“About twelve to fifteen? I don’t know. I’ve been doing this since high school.”
“That’s a lot.”
“A couple every year. I want more. We should have caught one tonight, but we missed out.”
We stared at one another for a long time, neither of us speaking or moving to the car to leave.
“We’re alone for a few minutes,” he said unnecessarily.
“We are.”
He stroked his thumb along the back of my hand. “I suppose if we’re gone too long, people will talk.”
“Yeah.”
I glanced across the dark field, then up at the sky. The heavy cloud cover blocked out the moon and stars. The rain had softened to a barely noticeable drizzle, enough to wet us. Sheet lightning danced in the distance.
I wanted to say something, kiss him again, or have him kiss me. I wanted everything but didn’t know how to ask.
“I’ve been thinking about last night.” It was like Ozrik had crawled inside my head and invaded my thoughts.
I bit hard into my lower lip because I’d been unable to think about anything else. A flash of humiliation assaulted me when I remembered asking him to stop, when I recalled how glaring my inexperience must have seemed, when I considered how desperately I’d wanted more.
I’d barely slept the previous night and spent the whole time wondering what came next. If it would happen. When it would happen. How it would happen.
“Do you regret kissing me?” he asked.
“No. Not at all.”
“So, I didn’t push myself on you?”