Chapter 21 #2
“We have to try,” I counterargue, not understanding why Ruka isn’t grasping how important this is.
“Or her weather won’t end. What if this tornado goes on and on while she’s traveling?
What if this isn’t momentary, Ruka? What if she unknowingly kills thousands?
Rips away homes? We are here. We have to try.
This tornado will tear the bar apart. Our friends won’t stand a chance. This storm? Everyone will die.”
“Or we die,” Ruka adds on.
“Better us than them. There are dozens there. They are afraid, Ruka.”
“We’re afraid too,” he snaps back, wiping his forehead on his arm, the sweat beading on his temples.
I agree with him. “Isn’t that beautiful?” I press my hand over his, forcing him to relax his grip on the wheel. “That we get to be afraid and are brave anyway?” I squeeze his hand. “There aren’t a lot of people who can do what we do. Those people count on us.”
In my entire life, I’ve never seen Ruka more scared. He’s always been the one who held fast, the one who kept his head, the one who always saw hope and a way out.
When I was around seven years old, a hurricane hit the island we grew up on, and the flooding destroyed our home.
Me, Ruka, and our parents had to climb to the roof to be safe.
Our entire house was almost underwater. At the time, I didn’t know how to swim.
Ruka was a great swimmer. He didn’t seem afraid at all that we were all sitting on the roof while it rained and water still rose.
He said, “I’ll swim all of us to safety if help doesn’t come. We will be okay.”
He never had to take that chance because help did come, and we were rescued.
Ruka has always been my lifeline. I need him to pull it together now. If he is this afraid, then I know we won’t stand a chance, and I can’t have that. There’s too much to live for and too much to look forward to.
“Is that…Evan?” Ruka points to a truck coming from the opposite direction.
Between the pouring rain and hail, the windshield wipers work overtime. Still, the glass is impossible to see out of.
Ruka rolls down his window and peeks his head out to get a better look. He swipes his hand over his face, the rain impairing his vision.
We stop in the middle of the road, blocking Evan’s access. The tornado’s deathly roar has me staring out the back window again, noticing it’s moving so slow, it might be at a standstill.
“What are you doing!” Ruka shouts as Evan pulls up next to him. “You can’t go this way! You have to turn around. Find another path to the tornado.”
“No way! Have you seen this thing? It’s a career maker!”
I lean over the middle console, stretch across Ruka, and fold my arms on the door. “You said you would help. This isn’t helping if you die. Turn around, take a different road. You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t know what’s back there. Go back to the bar. We will stay here.”
The back window rolls down, and Oklahoma doesn’t say a word. He only makes himself known. My mate is an intimidating man. People sense there is a power he holds.
“We’re only going to get a closer look. We will be fine. I’m surprised you care, Nariko.”
“I might not like you, but I don’t want you to die. There’s a big difference between the two.”
“Go the other way. Don’t take this road, Evan!” Ruka warns him again. “You won’t make it.”
Evan rolls his eyes. “It might come as a shock to you, but”—he revs the engine to the truck—“I know what I’m doing.”
“No. Evan!” I scream after him when he drives towards the storm. “Evan!” I shout one more time, knowing it’s impossible for him to hear me.
I fumble with the harness, my eyes watering with tears, knowing what’s about to happen. This isn’t a regular tornado. This one is fueled by magic, the paranormal, a power I can’t explain. I don’t know what this tornado is capable of.
What I know is not to go near it.
I jump out of the car, clutching the door handle as the wind tries to pull me to the beast. “No!” I cry, stepping forward, only to be caught in Oklahoma’s arms.
“He’s gone, Sugar. We have to go. Get back in the truck.”
“No! We can’t leave him.” I watch the red taillights get further away and closer to the belly of the storm. I shove my mate away, covering my mouth in horror when the wedge shifts again, the wind changing directions. “Evan!”
Trees get ripped from their roots. Branches sweep through the air. Thunder snarls its ugly teeth, booming so loud, the ground visibly shakes. The pavement cracks again, and this time, the rumbling beneath us doesn’t stop.
“Is that…is this an earthquake?” I grab onto Oklahoma’s arm, clinging to him as more cracks splinter through the asphalt.
The truck shakes, rocking back and forth.
Ruka peeks out of the truck, recording the ground splitting in half as far as the eye can see.
Lightning strikes next to us, and the loud crack has me almost jump out of my skin. Fire ignites on the leaves, smoke climbing towards the sky.
“Time to go.” Ruka pounds on the roof of the car to get my attention.
I’m frozen.
I can’t move.
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
The swirl of the vortex hypnotizes me. Dark clouds that remind me of smoke, the tendrils wrapping around the funnel like fingers.
The tornado pulls Evan’s truck off the ground, the headlights beaming into darkness. Around and around the truck turns, spinning with the storm.
It’s only a matter of time before the wedge slingshots the vehicle out to crash onto the ground. Hopefully, by then, Evan and his team will be dead.
“Time to go! Now!” Oklahoma barks, shoving me in the passenger seat.
I’m soaked. My teeth are chattering. I’m staring at the dashboard, hoping it can give me answers.
I always thought storms were breathtaking. I was wrong.
I am wrong.
Violence hides behind beautiful, horrible things.
When violence makes itself known, what’s born is violent.
I’ll never confuse the two again.