Chapter 29 - Callie #2
Peaches and I clomp downstairs and I look for a spot to hunker down.
There’s a few egress windows on the far wall, but there’s a small half-finished area that Jensen has fixed up for storage.
There are a bunch of boxes stacked up and a large workbench housing a ton of tools, but there’s a futon in the corner and it’s as far from the windows as I’ll be able to manage down here.
My phone is vibrating with emergency weather alerts and I quickly pull it out to tune into the livestream of Jim Bann’s weather coverage.
“ . . . don’t wait. You need to be in your tornado safe place. We’ve got some new scans coming in as we speak and oh man, Dayton Springs, this thing is coming in right on top of you. It’s going to cross Deertail highway and head right into the downtown area within the next two to three minutes.”
“Oh my god.” All I can think about is Jensen and Mabel—the auto shop isn’t far from the main drag of town. Neither is the bungalow. Tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I have to stay calm.
I pull one of the loose cushions from the futon and place it by my feet in case I need to grab it to cover Peaches and me.
The lights flicker, once and then twice.
The news coverage on my phone has frozen and I anxiously hit the side button of my phone, switching the home screen off and then back on again.
I clear the weather app and try to pull it up again, but the storm must be interfering with the cell phone towers.
I have one bar, but it’s not enough for the livestream to come through again.
I try calling Mabel and then Jensen, but neither call connects.
“Dammit,” I hiss, looking around for a weather radio, but if Jensen has one, it’s not down here and I have no idea where to look for one.
My body shakes as wind and hail continue to batter the farmhouse all around me.
The lights flicker again and go out for a few seconds before coming back on.
“Oh please, please, please,” I whimper, though I know the power isn’t going to stay on for long.
Not with the wind whipping the way it is.
More flickering and then a few seconds later, the lights go out again for good.
I switch the flashlight on, grateful for the small pool of golden light it supplies.
Fear, hot and raw, sinks its teeth into me as my brain begins to conjure up a dozen worst-case scenarios.
Don’t panic, be prepared. Don’t panic, be prepared.
Don’t panic, be prepared. I repeat my father’s words over and over like a meditation.
Focusing on the words, I refuse to think about anything else.
I’m as prepared as I can be, and I’m in the safest spot in the farmhouse.
All I can do now is wait for the storm to pass.
“It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay.
” Peaches climbs into my lap, shaking like a leaf, and I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly to my chest, murmuring a prayer into her fur.
“Please protect them, keep them safe,” I whisper, thinking of Jensen and Mabel, of our town and everyone in it.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Please keep us safe, too. Me and Peaches and—” My eyes fly open as a new horror rams into me. “Oh god, Ms. Dorothy.”
I’d seen her that morning watering her flowers and we’d briefly chatted before I left to run errands.
She’d told me she had no plans and intended to take it easy today, which means that it was highly unlikely that she’d gone to town.
Which also meant that she was probably still in her RV at this very moment.
I shake my head back and forth, not wanting to even entertain the idea.
Everyone knows that mobile homes aren’t safe in bad weather.
They fly like tin cans in tornadoes and anyone inside .
. . nope, I can’t think about it. Jensen and I talked about it once, that if the weather was bad enough, I should come down and shelter here at the farmhouse.
Surely, he had the same arrangement with Mrs. Dorothy right?
She would have come here. She would have known better than to try to ride out the storm in the RV, wouldn’t she?
Now, my brain is spinning a dozen new scenarios, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. “What if she’s outside?” I say to Peaches. “What if she’s here and she’s trying to get inside and can’t or she needs help or something?”
I make a snap decision, pushing to my feet. “You stay here.” I give Peaches the sign for “Stay” and tuck the throw blanket around her. If there’s even the slightest chance Dorothy is outside and trying to get into the farmhouse, I have to help .
I hurry up the stairs and back out into the dark farmhouse.
As I step into the living room, everything around me goes still.
It’s as if someone with a giant remote has pushed the pause button.
For a single second, I can’t hear the wind or hail.
Even the sirens have seemed to cease their wailing.
There’s nothing but a heavy stillness as the air in the room changes.
My ears begin to pop and my chest tightens from the change in pressure.
My feet understand before my brain does, and I’m hurrying back to the hall when I hear a strange sound.
It sounds like the air conditioning unit kicking on, that low, constant hum, but then I remember that the power is out.
As it gets louder and more menacing, I realize it’s a sound I’ve been told about my whole life, but never actually heard myself.
A sound I’ve feared for as long as I can remember.
It’s the roaring of a freight train barreling straight for me.
I yank the door to the basement open. I’m halfway down the stairs when the entire floor above me erupts into a cacophony of pops and cracks, shattering glass, and splintering wood—all while the roaring, like a monster coming to claim me, grows deafening.
One second, I’m nearly at the bottom of the steps, my eyes on Peaches, standing on the futon, barking her head off, and then the next a battering ram slams into me from behind ripping my feet out from under me .
I’m spiraling in a vortex of color and sound as the thick smell of drywall dust floods my nostrils.
A scream, shrill and full of terror, erupts from my throat.
And the world explodes around me.