23. Lila #3
Lucas lets out a whoop beside us. “It’s touching down!” he shouts, pointing at the funnel that has now made contact with the ground about a mile away. Dirt and debris swirl at its base, marking the beginning of what promises to be a significant event.
“This spot is great, Jonah!” I yell over the roaring wind. “Get Girthmaster as close as you safely can!”
Jonah nods, his focus absolute as he maneuvers the drone toward the tornado.
“I’m getting incredible readings!” he shouts back. “The vortex is intensifying rapidly!”
Lucas has abandoned all pretense of professional detachment.
He’s jumping up and down like a kid at Christmas, pointing and yelling incoherently.
Despite my annoyance with Weather Boy, his raw enthusiasm is infectious.
This is why we do this—for moments like these when the world reveals its terrible beauty.
“Wind speeds exceeding 120 miles per hour at the outer circulation!” Jonah calls out. “Girthmaster is handling this beautifully.”
“Yeah, he’s known for his performance.”
“What?” Jonah yells back.
“Keep going!”
“Just push it as close as we safely can!” I shout over the roar of the storm. “I want to see what this beast can really do!”
I watch in awe as the tornado suddenly surges in size, transforming from a narrow funnel into a massive cylindrical column. It balloons outward, the dark wall expanding with frightening speed until it’s easily half a mile across—a classic stovepipe formation that dominates the landscape.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, instinctively taking a step back.
Lucas has gone completely silent for once, his mouth hanging open as he stares at the massive tornado. I can’t blame him. Even for someone who’s seen as many storms as I have, this is spectacular.
The stovepipe tornado moves with surprising grace for something so destructive, keeping a safe distance while giving us a clear view of its structure.
It tracks eastward, running parallel instead of bearing down on us.
The part of me that studies this knows it’s ideal.
After everything the last week has thrown at us, this storm is finally giving Jonah what he needs—and giving us a break.
The tornado continues east, holding its shape. There’s nothing in its path but open farmland—no buildings, no homes, just empty fields stretching to the horizon. Best-case scenario, raw force with no human cost.
“Look at the rotation pattern,” Jonah points out, gesturing to the bands of debris circling within the funnel. “It’s maintaining full cyclonic symmetry.”
I grin. “Only you could make tornado-watching sound like a textbook.”
The wind around us eases as the tornado moves farther away. Max barks from inside the SUV, picking up on the shift. The storm keeps pushing east, the massive wall cloud trailing behind it.
“Unbelievable,” Jonah breathes, fixed on the tornado as it moves off. “The vorticity readings are beyond anything we’ve ever recorded so far.”
I watch as the towering funnel begins to narrow, its smooth shape tightening in on itself. The roar fades to a distant rumble, like thunder rolling away after a storm.
“Wait, look,” I point. “It’s losing strength.”
The tornado’s rotation slows visibly, the debris cloud at its base thinning as it releases its earthly treasures back to the ground.
The funnel narrows further, its connection to the ground becoming tenuous, then intermittent.
Within minutes, the once-mighty column has retracted upward into the clouds like a celestial vacuum cleaner being switched off.
“It’s dissipating,” Jonah says, awe threading through his tone. His gaze stays fixed on the sky where the tornado had been, like he can see its outline lingering in the clouds.
The wind eases to a gentle breeze, the pressure in my ears settling. Above us, the sky begins to break open, patches of blue pushing through as the storm system drifts east. The violence is gone as quickly as it came, leaving only the memory of it behind.
“Did you get what you needed?” I ask, watching him guide Girthmaster down to a landing spot nearby.
The moment the rotors stop, he drops the controller and closes the distance between us in three long strides. Before I can react, his hands frame my face and he kisses me. I feel the quiet rush of his breath, the energy humming through him.
“We did it,” he says when he pulls back, still close, his expression lit with exhilaration. His thumbs brush lightly along my cheekbones, and something in the way he looks at me makes my pulse skip. “Thank you. For everything.”
I’m about to respond when Lucas loudly clears his throat.
“Should I give you two a moment?” Weather Boy asks, waggling his eyebrows. “Or perhaps an hour?”
“Shut up, Lucas,” Jonah cuts in without looking away from me, that commanding edge back.
“Yep, okay, shutting up now,” Lucas mutters, backing off toward the SUV with unusual speed.
I grin up at Jonah, sliding my good arm around his waist. “So what now, Professor?” I ask, leaning into his side as we head back toward the SUV, where Lucas is very obviously pretending not to watch us.
“I have a couple ideas,” he adds with a wink.