23. Lila #2
I settle back in my seat. The landscape outside is changing as we drive, the flat farmland giving way to hills dotted with wind turbines. Out the window, I can see the first hints of what’s to come—a darkening on the horizon.
Max shifts restlessly beside me, his body pressing closer. He knows what’s coming too.
“The barometric pressure’s dropping,” Jonah notes, glancing at the dashboard readout.
I lean forward between the seats, my good arm braced against the console. “We need to get ahead of it. Take the next county road west.”
“But the intercept point—” he begins.
“Trust me,” I cut him off. “I can feel it.”
Jonah’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. A week ago, he might have argued, demanded data to support my gut feeling. Now, he simply nods and takes the next turn without question.
“You two have the weirdest foreplay,” Lucas mutters, not looking up from the tangle of wires in his lap.
“What was rule number two again?” I snap.
“No unnecessary commentary,” he recites dutifully, then adds under his breath, “Doesn’t make it less true.”
I ignore him, focusing instead on the gathering darkness ahead. The clouds build faster now, stacking like angry fists against the sky. Through the windshield I can make out the distinct anvil shape forming, the classic supercell taking shape in front of me.
“There,” I point with my good arm. “See how the clouds are starting to rotate? That’s where we need to be.”
Jonah nods, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he takes us deeper into the storm’s path. The tires hum against the asphalt as we pick up speed, and Max presses closer to my side, his warm body trembling. I scratch behind his ears, offering what comfort I can.
“Almost got it,” Lucas mutters from the front seat, connecting two wires that spark briefly before settling. “Just need to...there!”
The console in his lap suddenly flickers to life, small LEDs blinking in sequence as the system boots up. I lean forward, unable to hide my excitement.
“You actually fixed it,” I admit, genuinely impressed despite myself.
Lucas shoots me a smug grin over his shoulder. “Told you I could. Now we just need to?—”
The rest of his sentence is lost as a crack of thunder shakes the SUV, so close and powerful that I feel it vibrate through my bones. Max whines, pressing his face against my leg.
“That was less than two seconds,” Jonah says, his voice tight with concentration. “Lightning strike less than half a mile away,” I finish for him, my internal lightning calculator kicking in automatically.
The sky overhead has transformed completely in the last ten minutes, the once-blue expanse now a churning mass of greenish-gray.
“We need to deploy now,” Jonah says, already scanning for a place to pull over. “That rotation is tightening fast.”
Lucas holds up an anemometer and a ceilometer. “Where do you want this?”
“I’d normally say mounted to the top of the vehicle, but this isn’t my vehicle.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Stand there and hold it?” I fire back. “Unless you have military grade wire tires and a pole laying around, we really don’t have another option.”
Jonah finds a gravel turnout just off the county road and brings the SUV to a stop. The moment the engine cuts off, I can hear it—that distinctive freight-train rumble that makes the hair on my arms stand up. It’s distant, but closing fast.
“Max, stay,” I command as we pile out of the vehicle. He whines but remains in the backseat, watching us.
The wind hits me as soon as I open the door, nearly knocking me off-balance. My injured shoulder screams in protest as I brace myself against the SUV.
Jonah appears at my side, steadying me with a hand at my elbow. “Careful. Wind’s picking up.”
“This is nothing,” I shout over the growing roar. “Just wait.”
Lucas scrambles out behind us, clutching the repaired console to his chest like it’s a newborn.
His styled hair whips wildly in the wind, transforming him from polished TV personality to someone who looks like they’ve stuck their finger in an electrical socket.
Despite everything, I can’t help but find it satisfying.
“Where do you want this?” he yells, holding up the equipment.
Jonah points to a spot about twenty yards from the vehicle. “There! Far enough from the road but still within range of our receiver!”
I squint against the wind, taking in our surroundings. The field stretches out before us, nothing but scrubby grass and the occasional fence post. Clear visibility. Above us, the clouds have begun to rotate, swirling like water circling a drain.
“Lucas, set up there!” I point with my good arm. “Jonah, can you check to see if there’s anything we can use to anchor it down?”
They both spring into action, Lucas lugging the equipment toward the designated spot while Jonah sprints back to the SUV. I follow Lucas, my eyes never leaving the sky. The rotation is tightening, the clouds darkening to that distinctive greenish tint.
The wind whips my hair across my face as I watch Lucas fumble with the equipment, his hands shaking against the gusts.
There’s something almost comical about seeing him in the field—his expensive windbreaker, which he threw on in the SUV, flapping like an agitated flag, his camera-ready hair now standing straight up.
“Careful with that pressure sensor!” I shout over the howl. “It’s the only one we’ve got left!”
Lucas gives me a thumbs up that’s immediately blown sideways by another gust. Above us, the clouds are spinning faster now, a dark carousel of vapor and fury. This storm means business.
Jonah jogs back toward us, carrying what looks like a small tool kit and some bungee cords.
His face is focused, intense in a way that sends an inappropriate flutter through my stomach despite the approaching danger.
Leave it to him to be utterly irresistible with a storm bearing down on us.
If only Lucas wasn’t here…we could be checking something off my very dusty sex bucket list right now. Alas, it’ll have to wait.
“We need to secure this fast,” he calls, dropping to his knees beside Lucas. “The rotation is accelerating.”
I scan the horizon, where the bottom of the clouds are starting to reach downward like curious fingers. “We’ve got maybe five minutes before this thing really gets going,” I warn them.
Lucas glances up as he follows my gaze. “Holy shit,” he breathes, forgetting his broadcaster polish.
Jonah works quickly, his fingers deft as he secures the equipment with bungee cords to a fence post we hadn’t noticed from the road. The wind tears at his hair, plastering his shirt against his chest.
“Focus, Brooks,” I mutter to myself. “Ogle the professor later.”
“What was that?” Lucas shouts over the wind.
“Nothing!” I yell back, grateful the howling storm swallowed most of my words. I turn my attention to the equipment. “Is it transmitting?”
Jonah checks the display, then gives me a thumbs up. “We’re getting readings!”
Another gust of wind nearly knocks me sideways, and I stumble, my injured shoulder connecting with Jonah’s chest. He steadies me automatically, his arm wrapping around my waist in a way that feels both protective and easy.
“You okay?” he asks, his mouth close to my ear to be heard over the storm.
“Never better,” I reply, and I mean it.
Despite the chaos around us, there’s a moment of stillness between us—his arm at my waist, my body against his. Then Lucas’s voice shatters it.
“Guys! Look!”
I tear my attention from Jonah’s face to follow Lucas’s pointing finger. In the distance, a funnel cloud is beginning to take shape, descending from the churning mass above. My heart hammers against my ribs as that surge of adrenaline floods my system.
“It’s dropping!” I shout, unable to contain my excitement. “Jonah, are you getting this?”
He’s already checking the readings, his face illuminated by the eerie green light filtering through the storm clouds. “This is exactly what we need!”
The funnel cloud continues its descent, not yet touching down but clearly visible against the darkened sky. I’ve seen dozens, maybe hundreds, of tornadoes in my life, but the sight never fails to steal my breath.
“Fire up, Girthmaster,” I yell to Jonah. “Let’s bust his tornado cherry.”
Jonah looks at me with that half-smile I’m starting to find impossibly endearing. “Did you just say ‘tornado cherry’?”
“Focus, Professor!” I shout over the wind, pointing at Girthmaster secured in the back of the SUV. “Less commentary, more drone!”
He nods and sprints back to the vehicle, leaning in to retrieve our newest team member. The massive drone looks even more imposing in his hands as he carries it back toward us, his face set with determination.
Lucas is practically vibrating with excitement beside me, his camera forgotten as he watches the funnel continue its descent. “This is incredible!” he yells, his broadcaster voice completely abandoned. “This is amazing. I’ve never seen a storm develop this fast before.”
Jonah reaches us with Girthmaster, already running through the pre-flight checks.
“We might only get one shot at this,” he finishes, his fingers deftly adjusting settings on the controller. “The battery is fully charged, but in these winds, it’ll drain faster.”
“Then we make it count,” I reply, watching as the funnel continues its sinuous dance toward the ground. It’s mesmerizing—this deadly ballet between earth and sky.
Girthmaster rises into the air with a deep, powerful hum that cuts through even the howling wind.
The massive drone holds steady despite the gusts, its reinforced frame proving its worth immediately.
Jonah’s face is a mask of concentration as he guides it toward the storm, his fingers making minute adjustments on the controller.
“You’re a natural,” I tell him.
“I had a good teacher.”