Accidental Storm Chaser

It was supposed to be a harmless family reunion, I didn't know that tornadoes ran through my bloodline.

 

I couldn't sleep. My brother and sister couldn't wake. I sat next to the window in our small, cramped car, staring wide-eyed into a mess of black that seemed to be collapsing in on itself over and over. My hands and knees trembled in time to the bats clawing at the inner lining of my stomach like synchronized divers, but much less graceful and much more painful. Fireworks popped faintly behind us and for a moment all I could think of was peroxide on a cut, fizzing until there is nothing left to clean.

 

Vacations were meant to be enjoyed, treasured the way that pirates treasure their ships. But those exciting times were found in places like Florida and California where the weather was always a constant seventy-five degrees. I was in Kansas, home to Dorothy and Toto. Believe it or not there was actually a museum dedicated to the Technicolor duo, my mom had dragged us there to buy magnets and a cheaply made snow globe that whirled poppy seeds around when you shook it. But I didn't care about the Asian looking Dorothy in the clear ball, forever frozen in her unnatural pose; I was more worried about how she had gotten to Oz. Kansas wasn't exactly an ideal place to stroll when you were bored. Pretty as it was with its lack of mountains and excessive amount of cattle on either side of the highways, it was also right smack in the middle of Tornado Alley. Which, to me, meant only one thing; my great-grandmother had been crazy.

 

Who in their right mind settles down in a place where a storm cellar is a necessity when looking for a house? I couldn't fathom what went through my great-grandmother's mind when she decided that Kansas, of all places, would be an excellent place to raise my grandpa and his siblings. And when the lightning lit up the night, I started to resent her for it. 

 

The tremors that racked my body hadn't ceased, in fact, I was sure they had gotten worse. I pressed my face and hands to the icy glass as thick, pebble-sized hail began to pelt our car. The sky looked like a bruise, purple and swollen, pulsing with each strike of lightning that came every few seconds. My chest tightened and I counted silently, trying to measure how close the storm really was. I got to two. The storm was right over head. The bats in my stomach turned into raging bulls stampeding down the streets of Spain, angry and vengeful.

 

It was then that I saw it, funnel clouds stretching down like fingers reaching for the last pringle chip in the can. They were fat and evil, The Devil's twisted hand. I moved away from the window and sat back, pressing my body into the seat as deep as I could. I caught my mom's reflection in the mirror when the night became day for a brief moment. She was smiling. I could tell because the apples of her cheeks were pulled upward into rosy balls that created deep set crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. She turned her head to look at me from the corner of her eye.

 

“Isn't this cool, Na?”

 

My heart did a back flip. “Yeah, sure.” I said.

 

She laughed and turned back to the road, I knew I hadn't been convincing.

 

My mom was insane. Usually it was in a good way, like taking my siblings and I to the newest movie just because she wanted to, even though we didn't really have enough money to be spending at the big theaters. But now she was just plain crazy. Driving down the road while being surrounded by five or six different funnel clouds was not my idea of cool. Superman was cool. Laser Tag was cool. This, this was the equivalent of Chucky hiding under my bed. And I knew that if we didn't get to our hotel soon we would die with an F5 attached to our names in the papers.

 

The hail had stopped only to be replaced with thick rain that came down in sheets, reducing the visibility to less than five miles. Our car started to rock from side to side the closer we got to our hotel and I bit my lip hard. I had to go to the bathroom, something was squeezing my bladder tightly until I rocked back and forth to keep myself from peeing my pants. We entered the parking lot of our hotel and parked right in front our room. I would have been okay if our room was on the bottom floor, that would have made things easier to deal with, but we were on the second floor. That meant running up slippery stairs while rain, wind, and torn twigs pummeled your back until you were inside the room. I groaned out loud. I just wanted to stay in the car, but my brother – who was now awake – informed me that that would be stupid.

 

“If there is a tornado,” he said with a chuckle. “the car will be lifted before the hotel is.”

 

“And besides,” my mom added. “the hotel is made of solid concrete. It's not like it's going to be ripped from it's foundation any time soon.”

 

I groaned again, they were right, but if I was going out there I was going to do it as quickly as I could. I reached for the door handle and started to lift it.

 

“Wait!” My mom shouted. “You can't go out yet. Do you want to get hurt?”

 

I gave her a look that suggested that yes, I did want to get hurt if it meant I was in our nice and safe room.

 

She rolled her eyes, “The rain is too heavy right now, when it lets up we'll go in. Okay?”

 

I mulled over the new information for a moment then nodded. Silently I weighed my chances of survival if I just bolted out the door right then. The car was still rocking and the rain was hitting us at a diagonal hard enough to leave dents if it really wanted to. I wouldn't stand a chance if I defied my mother and jetted from the safety of the car, so I just sat back and waited.

 

It took five minutes for the rain to calm down just enough for us to be able to run to our room. It had felt like an hour, but the digital clock on the dashboard told otherwise. My mom counted to three with her fingers, giving us the go ahead with a nod of her head. I was the last one out of the car because my legs were jelly and my hands had fumbled around with the door handle, unable to find the lock faster than my siblings. I ran as fast as I could taking the steps two at a time then sprinting to our door, which was open and waiting for me. I nearly dove in head first, but my sister was standing just inside toweling her hair dry; I didn't feel like colliding with her. I rushed into the warmth of the room and slammed the door shut. My mom gave me a look and I shrugged my shoulders apologetically. I wasn't really sorry, I was just glad that we were safe again, far from the funnel clouds and potential tornadoes.

 

In the morning the skies were clear again and the only sign of that the storm had even existed was a turned over plane on a local airstrip and my solemn vow to never, ever, step foot in Kansas again.