Gale
I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. Never in my life had I been the reckless one.
No one would call me rebellious. I’d grown up afraid of my own shadow and unwilling to break the rules for anything, enough to drive Olivia crazy.
Yet, the instant Ozrik suggested turning around, I let off the gas, increased the distance from Olivia’s car, and swung a U-turn.
Gunning the engine, I took us back the way we’d come.
Ozrik whooped, slapping my thigh as he studied the sky. “You fucking rebel!” he yelled.
His energy was contagious, and I couldn’t stop smiling. My blood surged as we drove into the heart of a fast-forming hook echo. I didn’t need radar to see it happen. I read the clouds.
Ozrik pointed. “Right there. Do you see it? Go that way.”
I followed his instructions, swinging down one side road after another.
We hadn’t gone far when Ozrik shouted. “Look at that. Those fucking idiots. Look at it. Do you see it?”
“It’s forming a mesocyclone.” It was textbook, and I couldn’t look away, struggling to keep my eyes on the road.
“We need to head west. Take that road up there.” Ozrik bounced in his seat, his eyes glowing in the diminished veil of the storm.
My instincts were not the same as Ozrik’s, and he should have been the one behind the wheel.
I had tons of storm knowledge under my belt, but I was used to computer screens and reading data.
Discerning how close was too close, or the kind of distance we should keep from a potential tornado, was not my forte, so I listened to his instructions and followed them without question.
He guided me through a few turns until he shouted for me to pull over.
The second I stopped, he tumbled from the car like a kid on Christmas morning.
He didn’t even shut the door as he ran into the center of the road, neck craned to the sky.
I left the key in the ignition and grabbed my camera, joining him.
The storm’s strong current had formed a rotating updraft, pulling air from horizontal to vertical. That current drew in the humid and rain-cooled air, condensing it until a low-forming cloud appeared, shifted, and grew. We stared, awestruck.
Ozrik slapped my arm, pointing like I couldn’t see it happening. “It’s forming a wall cloud. Shit, Gale. Is it gonna happen? It’s going to happen.” He rubbed his arms, as if they tingled, his smile breathtaking.
The wind whipped our clothes, slashed our faces, and knotted our hair. It didn’t rain, but the storm raged. Neither of us moved, mesmerized by the spectacle. Books and videos didn’t do it justice. I understood why Ozrik did this.
My heart pounded. Although the instinct to run was hard to resist, I remained rooted in place, taking it all in.
Struck with nervous anticipation, I took his hand.
Ozrik squeezed reassuringly, diverting his attention briefly. He plucked at the strap on my camera bag. “Take pictures. You’re missing some great shots.”
Too enthralled, I’d forgotten about my camera.
As I got organized, Ozrik laughed and hooted and clapped, dictating like I wasn’t seeing the same thing. “Rotation. We’ve got a rear flank downward draft. Do you see the striations? Fuck, this is so cool.”
He whooped and tore his hands through his hair, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. Like it was the first time he’d witnessed a tornado forming, though it wasn’t.
“Holy fuck. Gale, it’s beautiful. It’s so fucking beautiful. This baby is going to produce. I feel it.” He rubbed his arms again, as if it were a physical sensation. “Come on, girl. Come on. You can do it.”
I glanced at the distant sky. The steady roar, the intense rotation, the wind.
Ozrik didn’t have a video camera. He didn’t have his team. Free from any responsibility, he was simply able to watch it unfold, and I wondered how long it had been since he’d had the freedom to absorb at this level.
I snapped pictures, one after another, catching several shots of the extending wall cloud and clear rotation above, but Ozrik was my muse. His expression. His reaction. I caught it all.
As we watched, a section pulled away, and before we knew it, it grew into a distinct cone shape.
Ozrik howled at it, spun in place, then pumped a fist, cheering her on. His energy was contagious, and I howled back.
He turned to me and laughed. “Again.”
We howled together, encouraging the funnel, chanting, “Do it, do it,” over and over.
I aimed my camera at Ozrik, backing up to encapsulate a broader perspective. This was him. The man who reflected nature. Who was the storm itself. I didn’t know if his energy would translate, but to be present, to witness it, was a privilege I would take with me.
As I snapped several more shots, Ozrik shouted updates.
The roar of the storm was a freight train, the poisonous sky a witch’s brew.
The funnel stretched to the ground, closer and with more strength than the one we’d witnessed on our first chase of the season.
Only then did I register its proximity. “Are we too close?” I shouted with an edge of panic.
Ozrik shook his head and yelled to be heard. “She’s a mile or so out. This is a good distance. Holy fuck, Gale. Are you getting it on film? She’s going to touch down.” He was practically giddy. “Look at it. Look, look, look.”
I looked. I saw.
The funnel narrowed as it neared the earth, spinning at a destructive velocity. My camera hung forgotten around my neck. I couldn’t focus on pictures anymore and took Ozrik’s hand, needing courage.
When the funnel connected, it sent an explosion of dirt and debris into the air, and my breath caught. “Holy crap.”
“Touchdown!” Ozrik roared, throwing his hands up. He whooped and cheered. “Those assholes are missing it.” He whooped again and repeated over and over, “Are you seeing this? Are you seeing it?”
It was humbling. A phenomenon unlike anything I’d witnessed in my life. I stood awestruck, fascinated by this wild act of nature. Of God.
“Should we go? Are we too close?”
“No. We’re good. She’s weaving that way.” Ozrik pointed.
“Aren’t there houses over there?”
“I don’t know.”
My heart clenched, thinking of its path of destruction.
I snapped a few pictures, speechless.
“She looks like an EF2 or EF3,” Ozrik said. “What do you think?”
Without a means of reading data, I guessed he was right and said so.
The tornado didn’t last long and broke up in less than five minutes. We remained rooted in place, absorbing it all. The disconnect was as incredible as the touchdown. She pulled back, a thin rope weaving into the sky as she weakened.
Ozrik reminded me to take pictures.
The rope stage lasted a while, and the sky slowly lightened before it was fully gone.
The calm that followed made my head spin. Had that just happened?
Ozrik turned to me, clutched my face, and kissed me with bruising force. “That was fucking incredible.” Another kiss, then he ran down the road, whooping and cheering like he’d lost his mind.
I felt a similar rush and couldn’t stop laughing at his ridiculousness.
Even when Ozrik calmed, his cheeks retained a steady glow of excitement. The rain never fell, and the wind dropped like someone had flicked a switch.
We remained, staring at where the tornado had been as the clouds shifted and the light changed.
Ozrik wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder in a backward hug. The heat of him around me sent butterflies into flight in my belly.
“Amazing, wasn’t it?” he said by my ear.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Thank you for breaking the rules with me.”
“Thank you for corrupting me.”
He chuckled and kissed the shell of my ear. “I think it will be my new life mission. A corrupt Gale is a fun Gale.”
“Olivia is going to kill me.”
“Yeah, but we saw a tornado, and they didn’t.”
We stayed like that for a long time, linked in a backward hug. I leaned against Ozrik, letting him take my weight.
Remembering the explosion of dust and debris when the tornado landed, I squinted in the direction it had gone, my worry about houses returning. “Can we drive over there and make sure people are okay?”
“For sure. Let’s do it.”
Ozrik drove, and I was relieved to see that the path the tornado had traveled consisted mostly of farmland. We came across one house with significant damage to a corner of its roof and branches and other debris strewn across the property.
Ozrik parked. We got out and walked up the driveway. A man and woman stood outside, examining the damage, but they turned at our approach.
Ozrik called out, “Evening. Everyone okay here?”
The man approached and shook Ozrik’s hand, nodding a greeting in my direction. “We’re all right. Could have been worse. Took shelter in time.” The man faced the damaged house. “That damn roof needed to be replaced anyhow. Would have preferred to do it on my own time, but here we are.”
“Do you need a hand with anything?” I asked, scanning the debris littering their yard. “We can help you cover that before nightfall.” I motion to the exposed second level. “In case it rains.”
“That’s kind of you. My son and the neighbor are heading over to help out. I appreciate the offer. Did you fellas see it?”
“We did,” Ozrik said.
“Chasers?”
Ozrik nodded.
The man laughed. “Y’all are crazy. Be careful out there. Those tornadoes are no joke.”
“We are.”
The man shook our hands again, and we left. Ozrik was silent as we drove away. The adrenaline of the chase had waned. My phone regained a connection and chimed repeatedly with incoming texts.
“Good grief. They’re all from Olivia.”
“I’m sure mine’s pinging like crazy too. Don’t answer her yet. Let them stew.”
Somewhere along a dirt sideroad, Ozrik pulled into a short turnaround that must have been meant for tractors. He parked and shut off the engine. Night was falling, and the clouds were breaking up.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“I don’t want to go back yet. You know we’ll catch hell.”
“I bet Charles shows up tomorrow.”
“No doubt. This might be the only freedom we have for the next few days. Let’s enjoy it.”