2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Nate
I need to burn off some steam. Outrun my demons.
I drop to the mat in my garage to do fifty pushups on my knuckles. I’ve already lifted weights, skipped rope, and run on the treadmill. But what the hell? Why not add some pushups into the mix?
Some days, physical exercise is enough to do the trick. If I exhaust myself—or distract myself—enough, I can push out the constant stream of thoughts that run through my mind. I can almost, never completely, forget my last mission as a Navy S.E.A.L. I can block out the sound of my S.E.A.L. brothers scream as the exploding landmine mortally wounded them. I can forget the warmth of my best friend’s blood gushing through my fingers as I tried to stanch the bleeding from the wound in his neck.
I can forget the pieces of shrapnel still embedded in my own back, and how I was wounded just enough for an honorable discharge from the Navy, but not enough to greet my friends in death.
I do another round of fifty pushups on my knuckles, but it’s no use. Today, my demons have caught up with me—and they’re not letting go.
The sound of thunder in the distance catches my ear. Yes! Chasing a storm is exactly what I need.
Not the way I chase storms when I’m on the clock, giving tours to college kids with a death wish or businessmen with money to burn. For Mercury Ridge Storm Chaser Tours customers, I play it safe. I give the customers what they want: excitement at a distance.
Some of them say they want to get close to the show, but they don’t. They want to see the whole tornado, stretching from the sky to the ground. They don’t realize that when shit gets real, you can’t see a damn thing. You shut your eyes to keep debris from gouging out your eyeballs. You hold on for dear life and hope the storm doesn’t take you.
It's moments like those when I’m reminded that I didn’t die with my brothers. My life’s not over. I even want to live.
Few people understand that. My bosses do. Or they used to . Colby and Oz aren’t victims of war. But they were two of the biggest daredevils in the business, back in the day. Now, they’re family men with too much to lose to risk their lives.
But they hang back, avoiding dangerous situations, for their families. Not for themselves.
And me? I’ve got nothing to lose.
I’m not alone . I’ve still got some damn good friends. I have a sister who lives nearby, too. But they’d be okay if I wasn’t around. They’d miss me, sure. But no one relies on me. No one needs me.
There’s another rumble of thunder, louder now. Oh, yeah. That’s big enough to chase.
I dash into the house to throw on jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots. Then I run back to the garage, jump in my 4x4 truck, and go in search of the storm.
I pull up the radar, looking for the blob of purple. That’s my destination.