Damascus Road (14 page)

The tornado was fully formed and heading for their truck.
The group realized it a second before it went airborne, the half-ton truck
pulled from the earth and cartwheeled across the field. They panicked, and I
hit the gas.

The tornado was coming. Somewhere in the recesses of my
mind, I knew that it was not an intelligent creature, and was not chasing them
out of malicious intent. That knowledge didn’t change my plans in the least.
These kids were going to die if I didn’t do something.

I steered the Cuda into the field and accelerated. I aimed
for the area right in front of them. My window was down and I had to shout over
the roar of the funnel cloud.

“Get in the car! Get in the car!” I shouted.

The woman looked at me and turned to yell to her friends.
They changed course and I slid the car to a stop. I could see the tornado
bearing down on us as they scrambled to get in. They piled in as a mass of
elbows and knees and screaming kids.

“Go, man, go!” shouted the cameraman.

“I can’t believe you stopped!” screamed the girl.

The last man was cursing in a steady and uninterrupted
stream of obscenities, but it was lost in howl of the tornado. I felt the back
of the Cuda fishtail and I gunned the engine before we got picked up as well.
The tires dug in and spun before catching. The Cuda leaped forward and sprayed
dirt as we pulled away. We crashed through the tall grass, trying desperately
to get away. I steered through the field as best I could, jolted and bouncing
along the landscape.

I checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing but twisting
death, screaming at us, bearing down. I mashed the gas pedal and aimed for the
road that ran between the fields. We hit the berm that ramped up to the access
road. It was a rough entry, but the clear road let me pour on the speed and I
was able to accelerate. The speedometer needle surged upwards, and we gained
distance from the tornado. We had missed the fence that partitioned off a
section of the field and the storm was feasting on it, jerking the fence posts
from the earth and snatching them skyward.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” the girl was screaming, as if I
needed the encouragement.

A fence post slammed into the ground a foot from the car
like a javelin thrown by God.

“Look out!” screamed the camera guy.

“Will you people shut up?” I yelled.

There was a moment of awkward silence in the car.

“Sorry…” I conceded.

Another post hit the ground in front of us and I had to
swerve to avoid it. We all screamed, and I let it go. Perhaps now wasn’t the
time to counsel them on in-car etiquette. Fence posts rained down in a volley
like arrows on a besieged castle. I jerked the wheel and slalomed around them.

“There’s the road!” This from the girl again.

“Thank you…” I said.

The Cuda hit the road in a sideways skid. Clutch. Shift.
Gas. The tires smoked, the rubber screamed in protest and we rocketed down the
road. The tornado receded in the mirror.

“Everybody okay?” I asked. “Is everybody alright?”

“Yeah… thanks, man.”

“Do you guys know where we are?” I asked.

“Hell?” someone responded.

“No, this isn’t hell,” I said, absentmindedly. “I’ve been
there and it looks nothing like this. There are less corn fields than this.”

We drove in silence for a moment, long enough for me to
organize my thoughts.

“Okay,” I said. “First things first. We’ve just cheated
death together. It’s the kind of thing that brings people closer together, so I
figure the very least we can do for one another is to know the names of the
people we survived with… I’m James.”

“James, I’m Isabelle.”

“Bobby.”

“Jeff.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” I said.

There was a tee in the road up ahead.

“Group decision,” I said. “Left or right?”

No answer.

“Left or right? Left or right??”

“Right! Turn right!” Isabelle said.

I downshifted and threw the car into a drift around the
corner. Everyone screamed. I laughed like a madman.

“That was fun,” I said.

“You’re sick, man,” Jeff blurted.

“No argument here,” I conceded. “So, where to?”

“Patterson’s is just up here about five miles,” Bobby said.
He thought for a minute. “I have to call my dad. I gotta tell him about the
truck.”

“Ohh, I’m sorry, man,” I said. “That’s rough. I remember
when I lost my first car. I drove right off the bridge. I put that ride right
in the river. My father forgave me eventually. I mean after posting bond and
paying off the guy whose car I just planted in the surf, we were finally able
to work it all out.”

“You drove somebody else’s car into the river?” Bobby asked.

“We’re not talking about me,” I said. “It will be alright,
man. Natural disaster and all that, right?”

“He told me not to take the truck if we were going storm
chasing,” he said.

“Yeah… that’s going to be rough. Sorry, man.” I said.
“Could’ve been worse, though. Could’ve died.”

“Good point,” Jeff volunteered. “Hey, thanks for stopping,
man.”

“Are you a ‘chaser?” Isabelle asked.

“Not exactly,” I said.

“Just in the neighborhood?” Jeff chuckled.

“Something like that,” I said. “I’m actually looking for
someone.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s a…she’s a storm chaser.” I said.

“Cool, man.”

“Here it is. Here’s Patterson’s.”

The place was a mega gas station located at the crossroads
of two major highways. It was neon and glass and twenty gas pumps with a
restaurant inside. The establishment was a palace in the middle of broad plains
and farms. It was an oasis.

“Nice.” I said. “You guys had a rough day. Let me buy you
lunch or something.”

They looked at one another, weighing the offer, oblivious to
how contrived it sounded. I wasn’t there for them. I only wanted to pump them
for information and be on my way. I was an opportunist offering cheeseburgers
and they never saw me coming. I almost felt bad for them.

“Sure! Thanks!” they chorused.

I parked the Cuda in front and we walked in together. I felt
like head scoutmaster leading a troop.

“That’s a nice car, man,” Bobby said, admiring the Hemicuda.

“I’m not letting you drive my car,” I said. “Look what
happened to your old man’s truck.”

“That’s low, James. That’s really low.”

I let them order and got myself a sandwich and a coffee. I
sat with my back to the wall and a view of my car. From where I sat, I could
see my three new associates. I didn’t quite get the appeal of it. I never got
the urge to dive with sharks or jump out of an airplane. Something about
chasing after tornados struck me as…self-destructive. Given a moment’s thought,
I couldn’t think of anywhere else on earth I would rather be.

Jeff and Bobby were watching the footage on their video
camera. Isabelle was carrying the tray of burgers, fries and sodas to the
table. She put it down and sat across from me. She was a typical
twenty-something as best as I could tell. She tucked her hair behind her ear
and eyed me.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, feigning disinterest. “Here’s the
change.”

She put the bills and coins on the table. Change from the
money I gave them for lunch.

“Oh, thanks,” I said.

“They gave us a half dollar,” she pointed out, popping a fry
in her mouth.

I grunted in acknowledgement and fished out the coin to
examine it. It was worn and battered, but still cool. I like coins. They
traveled and passed through the hands of hundreds of people. I liked that.

I turned the coin over and over in my hand, oblivious that
Isabelle was watching until I started to roll it across my fingers from one to
the next and back again.

“Cool,” she said.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s a magician thing I picked up,” I said.

“You’re a magician?” she asked.

“No, not really,” I said. “I just pick things up along the
way.”

She gestured with a French fry.

“Example?”

“I knew this woman, wonderful, incredible lady,” I said. I
was staring at the coin, still playing with it.

I shrugged, unsure of how much to explain to her, but she
nodded, encouraging me to go on.

“She was riding with me in the car one day and out of the
blue, this oncoming car turns in front of us at a green light. Just
careless…stupid. I tried to stop, but there was no time. We hit the car…” I was
gesturing with my hands now, my fist smacking into the palm of my hand.

Isabelle gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Were you okay?” she asked with genuine concern.

“Seatbelt burn,” I said. “Nothing serious. But this
woman…her name was…is Grace. She…”

I cleared my throat, choked up.

“Sorry…Grace wasn’t wearing a seatbelt,” I explained. “She
put her arms up to stop herself before she hit the windshield…”

“What happened?” Isabelle’s eyes were wide in horror.

“She broke her arms,” I said. “Hairline fracture in the
humerus. Painful of course, but thankfully, not life threatening.”

“What did you do?”

“I took care of her. Anyone would have done the same,” I
said. “I helped her with whatever she needed. The point being, her hair kept
getting in her way. So, I learned to French braid it.”

“Get out,” Isabelle breathed.

“Time and patience are great levelers,” I said. “And
practice is the mother of skill.”

“What else can you do?”

“The list of things I can’t do is more impressive,” I
smiled.

She laughed at me and I let her.

“Isabelle,” I said, sliding her picture across the table. “I
need to find Grace.”

She looked at the picture, then up at me.

“I know her,” she said.

“You…know her?”

“Hey, guys, come here,” Isabelle beckoned her friends over.

Bobby and Jeff appeared at her side. She showed them the
photo.

“You guys remember her?” she asked.

“Of course, I do,” Bobby said. “She was the one that went
crazy, yelling at us when we got too close to her team. Said we watched that
twister movie one too many times. That we didn’t have a sense of…what was it?”

“’Professional integrity’?” Jeff offered. “Man, she was a
bitch.“

“Jeff!” Isabelle cut him off.

“She’s my…wife,” I said, staring at the picture. ”Ex-wife.”

“Your wife?” Jeff said. “Seriously? What did you do?”

I locked my gaze on Jeff and leaned in close.

“She was my wife,” I said, my voice low. “She wasn’t a bet,
an experiment or an anecdote for you to share with your friends. Do we
understand each other?”

“Yeah, man. Sorry.”

“Let it ride,” I said.

Jeff made a face at my expression, but I ignored him.

“Where did you see her last?”

“Outside of Maddox,” Bobby offered. “She was with her team,
and they were storm spotting, planning their next move.”

“Team?” I asked. “How many people were with her?”

They looked at each other, and I could see them doing the
math in their collective heads.

“Four of them?” Jeff offered.

“I think so,” Bobby nodded.

“Men? Women?” I asked.

“She was the only woman,” Isabelle said. “The rest were
men.”

I nodded.

“What were they driving?” I asked.

“A Suburban and a pickup truck,” Jeff said.

“I need colors, make, model…” I said.

He gave them to me, relatively certain on all counts.

“Which way is Maddox?” I asked.

They all pointed. Up the road.

“Thanks,” I said. “You guys take care okay? Be careful.
Sorry about your truck, man.”

I started to walk away. It wouldn’t help to allow myself to
get any closer to them than I already had. I would never see these people
again. I had a tinge of regret about that, but they were the means to my end. I
could never forget that.

“James.”

It was Isabelle.

“Be careful. Good luck.”

I gave her the peace sign and walked away. They were good
kids after all, but the less they intersected with my world, the better off
they would be.

I walked out to the Cuda and got in. be What I saw that day
gave me a sense of what could happen out here. It was a dangerous place to be,
and nothing was guaranteed. It was not a stretch to die out here doing
something stupid, let alone plotted by a malicious man intent on doing harm.

The map was of some help, but a realization was creeping up
on me. There was almost too much land to cover. Grace and her team could be
anywhere. I could miss them by a mile and never see them. I had to try. It was
better than laying back and biding my days in Wallace’s garage.

I pointed the Cuda in the direction of the setting sun and
pulled out onto the highway. My mood was darker than I expected. I was on a
warpath. Angry at my brother, Tom. Angry at Grace for putting herself in harm’s
way. Angrier still at myself for letting it all happen.

I pushed the pedal down and let the car guide me. The sky
was brighter now and former signs of a storm had lifted. I had no direction
other than that of strangers. I was anxious to get ready to find her, to get my
hands around this thing with Tom.

I hit the radio power button and began searching for a
station. Something, anything. I didn’t pause at the Baptist preacher or the
organ music. I spun the dial, hoping for something as dark and as black as I
felt just then.

Then I found Rob Zombie playing “Dragula” in a harsh, pumping
beat and I turned up the volume. Some vindictive pirate radio broadcaster must
have been playing it just for me.

Dead I am the one, Exterminating son

Slipping through the trees, strangling the breeze

Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry

I hit the gas and screamed along to the song, feeling the
adrenaline pour into my veins, the only drug I ever needed. The landscape
rushed past me, and I saw the speedometer creeping up and up. My stomach
dropped, and I relished the feeling.