Tornado Warning (8 page)

He didn’t know what he was going to do. He had to find Cecilia, but he also had to protect his son. Someone had to come for them soon. Maybe Cecilia was safe at a hospital or at a shelter in town and they’d be reunited soon. It was Ryan’s desperate attempt to be positive, and he had to hold onto the small bit of hope to keep strong for Ty. If he lost his cool now, they didn’t stand a chance.

Chapter Eight

Darryl checked his watch. He had only been walking a little over an hour and he felt like he had barely gotten anywhere. The temperature was growing due to the clouds finally burning off, and walking on the asphalt probably didn’t help. He was happy to see the sun, and it was good and bad – with the heat rising, it meant storms could organize due to daytime heating. He’d guess that it was at least ninety-five degrees, and it wasn’t even nine AM yet.

With the emergency situation, what if they had record breaking heat? What would stop it from going from one extreme to the other, from nasty tornadoes to a blazing inferno that would bake anyone who was out in it?

He adjusted his baseball cap and swiped the hair from his forehead. It was plastered to his skin, and when he licked his lips, there was minimal moisture on his tongue. He was afraid to drink too much water. All he had on him was the canteen, and the more he opened it, the warmer it’d get. The Fox River that fed into Fox Lake was coming up in a few miles. He could refill then, but with all of the damage and debris, the sanitation of the water would possibly be compromised.

Shaking his head, he laughed to himself. He had looked at some water purification tablets at a camping store not long ago and wondered what the hell he’d do with something like that. The irony of the situation was so bad that Darryl fought the urge to cry. On a normal day, no one would ever think to buy a package. Now, it was a necessity he thought he’d never need.

Not a single car had come down the highway, which lent an eerie feel to Darryl’s surroundings. It wasn’t a busy interstate to begin with, but cars came and went at all hours of the day. He’d passed by a few abandoned ones, and with no one around, he searched each one, hoping to find anything that might help him, but came up short.

A small rain shower would be great. Nothing severe, just enough to knock the temperature down and cool him off. Instead, the sun beat down on him, it’s large rays making him feel like he was on the surface of it.

He saw another abandoned car about two hundred yards ahead. Quickening his pace, he fought his aching body. It was a Toyota, much like what Cecilia drove. His heart sank. Was this her car? It looked a lot like it, and when he saw the booster seat in the back, it confirmed that it was. There was no sign of her or Ty. Where were they going? Was Ryan with them, and if so, why did they take the car not his truck, which would prove to be sturdier?

Opening the door, he reached for the keys, but they were gone too. He searched the console and under each visor, and an insurance card fell to the seat. Skimming it, he saw Ryan and her name as primary drivers, and the sense of dread heightened.

Were people just vanishing into thin air? The fact that the car was in one piece made him feel better. It meant that they didn’t get tossed inside, but stranger things could happen. Tornadoes were known for skipping one house and then completely demolishing the next.

Darryl ran out into the field, yelling out each of their names. The trees swayed in the breeze and no one answered back. It was the first time he noticed that there weren’t even any birds flying or chirping like they usually did on an early spring morning. Life as he knew it was gone, and he felt like the only man left on a planet that was destroying itself.

“Ryan!”

He went off course, hoping they were held up somewhere, taking cover outside of the car, but there was nothing. No footprints, nothing ever giving a hint that they were there – only Cecilia’s car, abandoned, leaving no trace of anything behind.

When Darryl calmed down, he figured out he was on Farmer Johnson’s land. Due north of the mileage marker was where his house once stood, so he hurried in that direction. Maybe they had gotten in his cellar and were just waiting for help.

Just as he expected, the house was gone. The foundation was still there, but to the left was a closed cellar door. Flinging it open, he looked down inside, but it was dark.

“Ryan? Cecilia?”

His voice echoed and no one responded. He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned on his heel, gasping. Two men were behind him. He didn’t recognize either of them.

“Can we help you, mister?”

“I’m looking for Farmer Johnson. Where is he?” The men struck him wrong and he backed away to keep a safe distance.

“Not here, as you can see.” One man nudged the other and they laughed.

“Where is he?” He thought about asking if they had seen his family, but he kept that detail to himself until he got a better idea of who the strangers were.

“He didn’t make it. Neither did his wife.”

“How do you know? Did you find their bodies?”

“I guess you could say that.”

One of the men flashed a light down into the cellar, revealing a bloody blanket in the corner. Darryl’s pulse raced and he took another step back, gagging. It couldn’t be. He had just talked to Johnson a few days ago about buying a horse from him.

“You didn’t...”

“We needed food. Desperate times call for desperate measures. You know the old saying.”

Darryl bit his bottom lip. “The police will get you for this. They were good people.” His voice shook and he tried to hide his emotion.

“The police aren’t coming, old man. Can’t you see? We’re all on our own now. Fend for ourselves. Battle of the fittest. Our way of life before all of this is over. It’s like the end of the world, and I’m not going to let me or my brother suffer. Take charge now!” He scrubbed his hand down the back of his neck. “You got anything we can use?”

“No.” The canteen was heavy on his hip, but maybe they wouldn’t see it under his shirt.

“Then you are no use for us, just like the Johnson’s weren’t.”

He pulled a knife out, and Darryl backpedaled and turned to run. There was no indication that they had a gun or weapon, and he cursed himself for leaving all of his in his house. They were gone like everything else, but he never figured he’d run into something like that. It was like he was stuck in an end of the world movie with criminals.

No gunshots rang out. No one came after him. Maybe they’d stay close to their food supply and leave him alone. When he finally felt safe enough to, his paced slowed to a walk and he glanced over his shoulder. The poor Johnson’s probably invited them right down for food, and they turned on them. Was the situation really that bad? With the absence of emergency personnel, it was plausible. People panicked and slipped into survival mode when routines and ways of life were interrupted by disaster.

There were so many questions on Darryl’s mind. Why was Cecilia’s car abandoned on the side of the highway? Who was with her? Or even worse – had the two thieves and murderers already been to Ryan’s house and taken it? Was Ryan, Ty and Cecilia dead like the Johnson’s?

He had to get to his son’s place. Time was against him, and he needed to make sure that they were okay. He’d only stop for water and to take short breaks. If he kept up the pace, maybe he’d make it by the time the sun went down, barring no other issues arose between now and then.

~~

Ryan made several strands of rope, pulling them as tight as he could. With too much weight, they’d snap – the wood was already starting to get dry and he worried that even Ty would be too heavy. He counted the good pieces of wood he might be able to make steps out of. There were only a few that would prove useful, and he was running out of options. There were plenty of trees still halfway standing, but without a saw, he had no way of getting more wood.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sat down and took a deep breath. He had checked on Ty about ten minutes ago and the boy was resting comfortably. He needed to clean his wound, but he didn’t want to expose it and get it infected. It needed to breathe and Ryan shivered at the thought of the bone protruding from Ty’s arm.

Looking toward the mountain range to the west, his heart skipped a beat. Standing, he took a few steps forward, his eyes widening. The
same exact
cloud formation was brewing as days before when the monster tornado barreled through and made the area look like an apocalyptic wasteland. He swung open the cellar door and carried the ropes and pieces of wood down, unwilling to risk them being blown away in whatever nature was about to throw them.

Ty lifted his head off of the lawn chair, groggy as he rubbed his eyes. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, son. Just putting some stuff down here so I can work on it in case it rains again.”

“Is another storm coming?” Ty’s voice shook.

“I don’t know, Ty. Don’t worry. You’re safe down here. I mean it when I say I won’t let anything happen to you.” He felt guilty enough at the present situation.

Climbing to the top of the cellar, he tied one end of the rope to the inside of the door, securing it as best as he could. Streaming it down to the floor, he searched for something strong enough to tie the other end to, and serve as an anchor that could stand up to the high winds. The only thing available was a pipe in the corner where he had meant to put in a sink. It was another unfinished project to add to his growing list, but now, it served as a beneficial ingredient in his plan to keep the cellar shut off from what was about to transpire above them.

Ryan hoped the knots would stay strong. He didn’t tie it up yet. He wanted to get one more look at the weather to get an idea. Peeking through, he pulled himself up, keeping one eye on Ty and one on the sky. Clouds swirled and he could swear they were growling as they brewed up another disastrous system that would finish the job and kill those who were lucky enough to make it through the first storm.

It was like a bad wreck he couldn’t peel his eyes off of. He wanted to see as much of it as he could and get down in the cellar in the nick of time, but he had Ty to think about and the promise he had made to his child. Rain splattered the already soaked ground, and he expected it to be cold, but it was warm, splashing on his skin and through his thin t-shirt.

“Daddy!” Ty yelled at him, and Ryan ignored him, watching the clouds that looked alive, hungry to suck up whatever was in their path. “Daddy!”

Ty yelled again, pulling Ryan from his trance. Slipping back inside, he anchored the door, tying it to the pipe intended for plumbing. Was it buried deep enough to stand strong? They would soon find out.

Ryan picked up the lawn chair with Ty still in it, pushing it back against the wall farthest from the door and sat beside him, holding his hand, probably squeezing too tight. He wasn’t a praying man, but he closed his eyes and thought about the words of the
Lord’s Prayer
. Hopefully, Cecilia, her parents, and his father were all in a storm shelter somewhere, perfectly safe. 

The metal door bounced up and down from the small amount of slack the homemade rope had in it. Lifting, a few drops of rain came in, but it fell back down, sealing them back inside. Ryan watched the rope being pulled tight and loose multiple times, making it weaker each time it happened. He thought about pulling it tight, but the strength of the storm would be no match for him, and he didn’t want to risk being sucked out with it.

The metal bounced up and down but provided a good barricade. Ryan stayed up against Ty, partly to comfort the boy and partly to shield him. He couldn’t remember what had injured him before, and he didn’t want to take any chances this time around. The clank of the metal was loud, echoing against the roar overhead. A few pieces of rope snapped, but the middle strand was standing strong. If it lasted much longer, it’d break and the piece of metal would fly off, leaving them vulnerable again.

“I’m scared!” Ty cried, the tears flowing down his cheeks as he buried his face in Ryan’s arm.

What Ryan wanted to say was “me too”, but he refused to show weakness. The storm stopped as soon as it started, but he knew better than to check it out. It always came back for round two, so he stayed where he was, his eyes moving up and down the rope, making sure it was okay. It dripped with water from the rain that was able to get in, but they were much better protected than the first time when nothing was blocking the exit.

Everything seemed calm. There was no rain, no rumbles of thunder, and the wind was gone. Ryan waited another ten minutes, double checking Ty who was so scared that he was shaking.

“You okay, son?” Ryan ran his hand down Ty’s face.

“When is it going to stop? I want to go home, daddy. I want mommy.”

“Me too. And I can’t answer that. I’m sorry.”

“My arm hurts. My head hurts. I don’t feel very well.”

Ryan kissed his forehead. “I know, Ty. I’m trying to get you help.”

He gently took Ty’s arm out of the sling and pulled the bandage away. He used hand sanitizer on his hands, cleaning them enough to handle Ty’s wounds. Dabbing some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball, he wiped it near where the bone was and Ty let out a yelp, but he didn’t have much energy, and couldn’t pull away. Doing the same to Ty’s head wound, he tossed the used gauze into a trash bag.

“We are going to leave the bandages off for a little while and let you get some air.”

“But I’m breathing air. What do you mean?” Ty’s words came out in pants and his eyelids seemed heavy.

“Your wounds, Ty. I just want to make sure they don’t get infected.” Ty was so innocent, and even then, he was clueless about the condition he was in. That was probably for the best. He didn’t need to know how much trouble they were in.