Storm Chasing Man

It was getting dark. The clouds were becoming black and bulbous. A menacing chill whipped through the poplar and sycamore trees, dragging dried leaves, loose hay and dirty tin cans from one end of the farmstead to the other. The dogs were whimpering in their kennels, pleading Justin to let them inside the house and the work animals were bleating heavily in their pens. Windchimes were clanging sharply under the eaves of the old wooden farm home and the rusty weathervane atop the roof was whirling around helplessly like a desperate deer fly caught in a deadly web.

Justin stood motionless on his porch, fixated on the frenzied lashing of vegetation around his southern home. His dark undershirt was whisking freely around with the wind. He dug his thumb into his neck, freely searching for a piece of skin or hair to smooth, pluck, or scratch off. He was spellbound by the wind and he knew this was only the beginning. With the TV blaring upstairs, Justin could faintly hear the anchorman on WKRN issue a severe warning.

"Yes, folks, that's right. We have touchdown confirmation. At 6:13 pm, Tipton county was hit by an F5 tornado, and all communications have since ceased. We're asking all residents of this and neighboring counties to please continue sheltering in place. Do not go outdoors and remain away from windows or any openings to the outside." The feed was suddenly interrupted by a sharp static noise.

"JUSTIN!" his wife barked from their bedroom. "GET THE DOGS!"

Justin scrambled to the kennels to free his four legged friends and they shot past his legs, up the steps of the house, into the kitchen, and down into cellar with the kids. The clouds opened up and began dumping nuggets of hail over the homestead. Thunderous claps sounded off overhead and streaks of lightning combed the night air. The sky was now green as envy and Justin sat calmly in the center of Max's kennel, still engrossed in the rapidly worsening weather.

Natalie partially appeared on the porch, poking her head out the door like a perturbed prairie dog. "We have to go now, Justin!" she bellowed, "Get in the house!" Her voice turned shrill and made Justin cringe. He stumbled across the driveway, ducking under the thickening hailstones. He smoothed out his peppered hair upon entering the covered porch and watched his wife bumble around the kitchen, collecting flashlights, canned food, candles, the old transistor radio and anything else that fit into her anxious arms. Her nervous energy matched the ferociousness of the building storm.

The wind was now howling as Justin watched fixedly through the kitchen windows. The weather was effectively ripping shingles off the old red barn outside and shoving heavy farm equipment coarsely across the carefully manicured lawn. A chicken got loose from the coup and fluttered wildly along with the increasing wind, squawking rather indignantly.

"This is it," Justin said breathlessly, pressing his fingers into the tiny bald patch on his bearded neck and plucked away at the skin there to soothe his nerves and racing thoughts.

He knew what was about to happen had the potential to change the course of his entire life. He stared longingly at his wife, hoping to God she could one day forgive him for what he was about to do. Natalie flew down the cellar steps to drop her armful of supplies and comfort the kids and dogs. Justin quickly collected his hammer and a few nails from the kitchen junk drawer and glanced outside the window again. "COME ON!" she shouted once more from below and he cringed again, feeling his own anxiety swallow him whole.

The gale gained exponential force. A few more chickens got loose from the pen and despite their efforts, were strewn clear across the yard to Justin's delight. He had been waiting for some sure sign or cue. This was it. He sparked into action.

Justin slammed the cellar door behind his wife and began nailing it shut from the outside, securing his family underneath the kitchen and securing himself a front row seat to the storm of a century.

'I'm sorry!," he shouted over the increasing wind, "I love you! But you know how much this means to me!" he said to his wife, who was now beating at the door and cursing like an angry, drunken sailor steeped in total disbelief. "OPEN THIS DOOR! THIS ISN'T FUNNY, JUSTIN!" She sobbed," OPEN THE STUPID FUCKING DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR, OPEN IT!" Justin tried in vain to stifle his laughter. He knew that was fear speaking, and not his saintly wife. Natalie never spoke to him like that before and he could hear the sheer terror in her shaking voice.

"Everything is going to be ok, baby," he said while smoothing out his hair again. He jutted out the front door and into the wild night, feeling like a child, carefree and electric.

He darted through the now golf ball sized hail and raced for the door of his Tundra, grimacing at every knock along the way. His back, neck, and arms would no doubt bruise but the truck would be fine. His custom hail shields were a good match for the weather and he hummed excitedly, feeling overly prepared for the chase of a lifetime.

"I'm the storm chasing man!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

Justin dreamed of storm chasing ever since he was small. His personal heros included all the top meteorologists of his time. He breathed, heard, smelled, tasted and saw weather in all it's glory wherever he traveled and moved his family clear across the United States so that he would one day have the opportunity to step into his own. His stuffy job in the middle of the Silicon Valley- a place entirely void of unforgiving weather- was much too mundane for his tastes. He was meant to be a storm chasing man and would stop at nothing short of instant death to get there.

He procured his laptop and camera from the console of his truck and secured them carefully to the dashboard. He switched on the radio, screeched out of the driveway, and left his farm and family far behind. He longed to come home a hero.

The roads were empty in both directions. There weren't any street lamps in his county, making his headlights the sole source of light along the highway. He shot down the slick turnpike like a dangerous lawless man running frantically from the fuzz.

The hail was effectively denting the top of the truck and Justin quickly lost all signal on his laptop and radio. The wind was now deafening as Justin swerved around the storms debris and mentally calculated the closest route to all the best action. He briefly thought about his wife before the death grip of panic took hold in his fluttery heart. Justin slammed on the brakes. The severity of his actions stopped him in his tracks. He imagined his selfish death. There was no guarantee that everything would be alright after all. This tornado could take him out. Oddly, that wasn't the scariest part. The scariest part was living through the storm of the century and coming home to his livid wife. He imagined the look on her face after he pried the nails off the cellar door. Her icy stare, her rigidly crossed arms, the silent treatment. The thought sent shivers down his already aching spine.

An even worse potential reality hit when he imagined coming home to no family at all. What if THEY died in the process?

"WHAT HAVE I DONE?" He gasped, while heaving his steering wheel around in order to turn back to his farm.

But he was far too late.

From the darkness, the storm crept up upon Justin like a rageful menacing thief in the night. From all around him, he could hear the fierce moaning, growling, wails of mother nature herself. The trees lining the highway were being lifted up, roots and all and whipped around this mile wide monstrosity. The thick grey wall of the tornado was swallowing absolutely everything it touched.

"HOLY SHIT!" was all he could think to say.

His body felt entirely charged, like the enormous channels of lightning that were now raining down from the green swirling clouds. Justin had never been this close to such a phenomenon and he was wildly terrified and excited all at the same time. This was the reason he had come into existence, was this very moment, parked in front of a category 5 twister, mouth agape, nerves trembling, and every cell in his body overwhelmed by every smell, sight, taste, and sound. He was on the precipice of merging with the largest amount of energy he's ever seen or known and he couldn't help but already feel apart of it in some strange way. He took pause only to notice the hardening member in his torn cargo shorts.

The wind whipped around his vehicle, nudging it ever closer to the screaming, gnawing mouth of mother nature. Cosmic booms thundered through the truck and made Justin shutter hard.

His windows were clobbered by macro particles of storm debris and smashed into sharp and deadly smithereens. The hail guard was entirely failing to keep Justin safe. Little wood chips and shards of glass inundated the inside of the cab and began cutting every inch of Justin's exposed skin. As if in slow motion, he witnessed his own thin tendrils of blood streak across the air, and swirl around the cab, staining what was left of the windows and leather seats. The frigid cold of the storm was biting through his bones and made him cry out in agony. His voice was swallowed by the howling wind.

Before he could hit the gas, his truck was already being thrusted across the interstate, his wheels steadily leaving the slick ground. He had lift off.

He was caught in the destructive force of the approaching tornado, being violently sucked towards the outer walls of the dark swirling vortex. The wind lifted him higher and higher and his eyes grew wider and wider. The truck was tumbling in midair and he had come face to face with the tempest itself.

Justin knew this was it. He knew he wouldn't see his family again. He knew that if they survived, they may never find him. He imagined his limbs being ripped from his torso and strewn around the county. He smoothed his hair out one last time and let go of all control. He was at the mercy of the elements inside his big black battered truck.

A sudden blaze of lightning struck the vehicle and Justin could see only white. A horrific deafening buzzing sounded off in his ears and the taste of blood filled his mouth. One final thought of love penetrated his heart as he wished fervently he could have hugged his wife and family hard before leaving.

The tornado chewed him up and spit him out like gristle.

The truck landed in a large heap atop what seemingly once was a house. Branches and boards and furniture piled high on top of it and covered the vehicle entirely, burying it and it's sole passenger under cold, wet, heavy darkness. The only noise was the sound of the rain pelting the piles of garbage left over from the retreating storm.

***

An army of reporters and volunteers descended upon Mason to witness the wake of flattened destruction and to help where help was needed. So many people did not survive. So many homes were destroyed beyond recognition. So many families were separated forever.

Through tears, the entire nation sat glued to their TV screens, and realized collectively, yet again, how grizzly the force of nature can be.

***

"WHERES MY HUSBAND?!" Natalie said, slapping her free hand against the makeshift reception desk, and fighting back waves of sobs. She felt defeated and knew within her heart that she had no control over the situation and she hated that more than anything. Her youngest child sat perched in her arm while the other three were scavenging through rows and rows of cots in the local high school gymnasium, searching in vain for their father.

"Ma'am, I understand you're distressed." the receptionist said, "The volunteers are doing everything they possibly can. If he's been found, he's not been brought here. Have you checked anywhere else?"

"There's no place else. We've been all over this county and the next. Every gym, every Red Cross tent." She sobbed, hugging her baby tighter.

The receptionist gave Natalie a compassionate look but had nothing more to offer. She wished she could tell her that her husband was alive and well but this storm was entirely unforgiving. This wasn't the first woman with children who'd come demanding the whereabouts of her likely dead partner.

Maggie saw the desperation on her mother's face upon returning and thought hard on how her dad would handle this situation. She smoothed out her mousy brown hair and approached her mother boldly.

"It's ok, mom." she said, taking the baby with one arm and embracing her mother with the other. "Everything's going to be ok. They'll find him, ok?"

Natalie sobbed into her teenage daughters shoulder louder than she intended, wondering where her daughter pulled her strength from. Dylan and Wyatt heard their mother from the far end of the gym and began the journey back, past the rows of their injured ,but living, neighbors and townsfolk. They feared she'd received the news that Dad didn't make it after all.

The family clung together and began to make their way to the car through Natalie's wails of despair.

"We're gonna need some more cots!" a voice sounded from the gym's entrance. "Found three more this morning. Can you accommodate any?"

"We're almost at full capacity," the receptionist responded, "Although I'm sure we have at least three more beds in the back. Let's get them signed in."

Natalie halted, tapping into the last reserve of hope and strength she was holding somewhere deep, deep down. She sent out a plea to the universe that it was still holding her husband alive somewhere in it's grand web. She paused at the door, anxiously awaiting the three newcomers.

The receptionist met the volunteer at the door with a sign in sheet.

"Are they stable? Do we know names, yet?"

"They're pretty banged up," the volunteer replied, "no names yet, but one keeps saying he's 'the storm chasin' man'."

The grieving family let out a collective gasp as the three survivors were carried through the double doors of the gym.

Justin lay splayed out on the stretcher. His bloodied hands were clutching hard to his camera and laptop. His eyes were swollen shut and black and blue. There was a large gash on his forehead that no doubt needed stitching. His clothing was shredded, as if he had fallen into a dull woodchipper and his body sported a multitude of scrapes and contusions.

Dylan and Wyatt let out joyful yips at the sight of their father. Natalie and Maggie breathed out a sigh of relief, and the baby in Maggie's arms kicked his legs and reached to get down.

"Dada!" He screeched excitedly.

Justin turned his aching head towards his family and flashed them his brilliant smile.

"You're lucky you still have all your teeth, storm chasing man." his wife said bitterly. She wondered how he managed to keep his dazzling charm, no matter the occasion. The man was looking quite near death strapped to his stretcher and was still more handsome than the devil. She walked alongside the stretcher, wanting so desperately to hold him tight but was terrified to lay one finger on his bruised and beaten body.

"That's not the lucky part," he croaked, "Squanto is still fully intact." He smiled again, proud of his cheap penis joke.

***

In the coming months, Justin's footage of the storm was used again and again by every news station across America. He was hailed a hero by every meteorologist and anchorman alike. His video was seen millions of times on YouTube, inspiring generations of storm chasers to come. He and the family had been asked by Good Morning America and various other shows to grace them with his presence. The entire nation fell deeply in love with the Storm Chaser and Justin went to sleep at night feeling like the storm chasing man he always knew he could be.

"Was it worth it?" Natalie asked him one evening, changing the dressing on his arm. Justin nodded and his eyes sparkled as he recounted the moment he laid eyes on the tornado and all the profound feelings attached to that. He spoke with such wonder, Natalie couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Picking up on the hint of envy, Justin blushed. He realized he kept calling the tornado a "she". He soon felt a mild amount of guilt, as if he had some strange affair on his sweet wife. They sat together in silence, both knowing full well that Natalie would never quite be enough. She would never fully compare to the time Justin chased a twister in Tipton county, Tennessee.