Tornado Warning (11 page)

Ryan reached the edge of a small hill that overlooked Brooke’s Draw where people would gather to hunt, fish, and camp. It was usually busy with tourists and locals, all taking a break on the weekends, but today, it was like a ghost town. The campground was gone, including the cement picnic tables. A metal sign dangled and swayed in the wind, the sideways letters advertising that it was the best fishing area for forty miles, which Ryan could attest to. He had caught lots of catfish right off of the docks.

The silence was eerie. He never thought he’d live to see the day when Brooke’s Draw would be vacant, and there it was, with no signs of life, not even a squirrel or rabbit who once infested the small oasis. It was like an atomic bomb had been dropped, and an eye level plume of dust aided in providing a post-apocalyptic feel to the weekend getaway spot.

Wiping the sweat from the back of his neck, Ryan swallowed the lump in his throat. He had only walked for fifteen minutes, and it was enough to confirm what his father had said. Things were worse than he had anticipated. The farther he walked away from his land, the deeper he got in over his head, but he had to do this for his family. For Ty’s injuries. For Cecilia – she
had
to be alive. Ryan wouldn’t accept any other possibility.

Chapter Eleven

Before heading to the highway, Ryan made a detour to the river. He was only about a half of a mile from it, and he needed to cool off. Rather than wasting his water, he’d go for a quick dip to bring his body temperature down and see what he might run across. Like the night before, his mind raced with everything transpiring, but he made sure to keep a sharp eye on the sky. The drastic climb in temperature worried him – if nature was capable of wiping the area off of the map, it would be capable of causing record-breaking heat that could easily kill him.

Staying hydrated and nourished would be his biggest challenge, which was one reason he thought the best idea would be to stay by the river. He could rig up a fishing pole with a sapling and make fishing wire similar to how he made the ropes back at his place. He wasn’t at that point yet. He had enough food for a while, and it was the lack of water that was concerning.

What he’d give for his cell phone to work for at least thirty seconds. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked it, and there was still no signal. He went ahead and tried to call out, but it wouldn’t respond. Ending the call, he tried 911. The major cell phone companies always claimed that you could make an emergency call even if the phone had no service, including if the phone wasn’t even hooked up to a network carrier.

No luck. Shit! He wished one thing would go his way. It actually had with his father showing up, but he felt like he was in quicksand. One step forward and two steps back.

When he reached the river, he was expecting to see other people there. It was just as vacant as Brooke’s Draw when people were normally lined up along the banks, fishing and tubing on the water. Ryan questioned if the water would even be safe to drink. He thought about all of the end of the world movies he had watched, and for some reason, the water always seemed to be tainted.

Dipping his hand in it, it was cooler than he expected, considering the blazing sun beating down on him. It appeared to be clear with no infestation, but did he really know? He wasn’t a scientist or a book smart intellect, so he went off basic instinct, and it was to get in and cool off.

Pulling his shirt off, he stripped to his boxers, stacking everything on the bank beside his bag. He feared someone coming up and taking his stuff, but with no human presence for miles, he relaxed. He was aware of the looters, but he’d stick close by in case they came. He didn’t want to put too much distance between him and his gun.

The water was refreshing, and he dove under, enjoying the coolness on his skin. When he came back up, he checked in all directions – still no sign of anyone but him. Not even any animals were coming to take a drink, which also made him wonder about the quality of the water. He pushed through the water, getting back to shore.

The sky to the west was darkening again and the wind picked up. That was the dry line retreating, just like Ryan had predicted earlier. He put his shirt and pants back on, allowing the fabric to soak up the excess water on his skin. It’d help cool him with the breeze, but his biggest concern was the storm forming quickly.

He needed to find a place to go. He didn’t see any places on the way, but he knew of a small farm not far from where he was. He didn’t know the family well, but it didn’t matter – in a time like this, they’d surely let him down underground with them.

Rain began to fall, but it was light. Lightning rumbled in the distance and Ryan couldn’t chance it. Breaking into a sprint, he weaved between trees, his heart thumping with the rhythm of his feet on the ground. He could hear the hail slamming against the ground and it wasn’t far behind him. The hailstones came down like bombs flying out of a huge spaceship, and if he slowed his pace down, he’d be pummeled with the shards of ice that were bigger than anything he had ever seen.

To his left, a tree was struck by lightning and engulfed in flames. The thunder was so loud that it knocked Ryan back, and how he hadn’t gotten hit by hail or lightning was nothing short of a miracle. His destination wasn’t far away, and his lungs burned, his legs ached, and it felt like it was getting farther away instead of closer.

It was hard to see through the rain, but it looked like a man was standing near the cellar, holding the door open, motioning toward Ryan. Was it an invite to go? He wasn’t going to question it, even if the man denied him, he had to fight his way in.

The mud was thick under his boots, slowing him down. The bag of supplies he had gathered back home was making it heavier, but he couldn’t shed the weight. Everything he carried was beneficial, and if he lost it now, his whole plan would fail and he’d let both Ty and Cecilia down. That was his inspiration to keep running and get to safety.

“Come on in!” The man yelled, pointing down the stairs.

Ryan finally reached him and took the steps two at a time. The door overhead slammed behind him, and though he didn’t know the family well, the man who had invited him in looked oddly familiar. He couldn’t place him, and when Ryan turned to see everyone else, something told him he was probably better off out in the storm than where he was at that moment.

He recognized the men from somewhere, but he couldn’t peg where. They weren’t from Harper Springs, but maybe they were residents of Fox Lake he had seen in passing when he’d visit Cecilia’s parents. That didn’t seem right either.

“Well, if it isn’t the man who pulled his gun on us!” One of the men nudged the other. “What brings you here?”

It hit Ryan blindside. They were the guys who tried to take some of his food. Taking a few steps back, he noticed another man in the corner, but he definitely didn’t belong with them. He looked terrified, as if he couldn’t get far enough away. Had he tried to get out of the storm as well?

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Ryan said. Holding his hands at eye level, he tried not to draw attention to his backpack. They’d rob him blind if they knew what was inside.

“Again, I ask, what are you doing here? Run out of food?”

The metal door above them banged against the frame and rain pattered so hard that Ryan could barely hear him. Looking up, he wondered how they managed to get it to stay put.

“I am looking for help.” He was cautious to give too much information away, but maybe it’d make them more sympathetic if they knew his whole story. “My son is hurt and we haven’t heard from anyone in days. I’m also trying to find my wife.”

“Help isn’t coming,” the other man chimed in. “We told you that when you pointed that gun in our faces! You won’t be doing that to us again!”

Ryan shook his head and looked at the other man whose eyes were as wide as saucers. “No, like I said, I’m not here to cause trouble, and I thank y’all for letting me come down here and get out of the storm. It looked like another bad one and...”

“Would you shut up! We’re not here to help anyone!”

“Is it really that bad that you’re turning on everyone so fast?” Ryan wasn’t sure if it was the best question to ask, but it fell out of his mouth before he could even think about it. “Can’t we all work together and get some help?”

“He doesn’t get it, does he?” One man spoke to the other and they both laughed. “No one is coming. We are all on our own. And if it means me killing you to live, I’m not going to think twice. Now, what do you have in that bag?”

Ryan slid it off his shoulder and unzipped it. How could he have let this happen? It was his own fault for trusting everyone and being so naive to the situation.

“Empty it slow. If I see any signs of a gun, I’m going to beat the shit out of you, do you understand?”

Ryan did as he was told, thankful he kept the gun in his pocket and his jeans were baggy. If they tried to take it, he’d draw the line there. He squatted and emptied out the beef jerky, potted meat and crackers, as well as a jar of peanut butter and several bottles of water. The last can of tamales rolled beside the food, and his heart ached for Cecilia. Finding her now felt impossible.

“Looks like we hit the jackpot!”

“You’re not taking my stuff,” Ryan said, gritting his teeth. He was trying to stall. The storm above was still raging. What he imagined was hail was slamming on the door, and the wind sounded like a freight train. What hadn’t been destroyed yet would be completely gone once he got back to ground level.

“Oh, we’re not, huh? How do you figure?”

When Ryan looked up, he was staring down the barrel of a shotgun. He slowly straightened his posture and held his hands up again. They didn’t have a gun the first time he met up with them, but there was no telling how many people they had taken things from.

“Not such a big talker now, are you?”

“Take the food. There’s no reason to keep us, though.” Ryan motioned toward the other man who stayed against the wall, his chest rising and falling fast.

“No? I should blow you away for being such a damn headache. And then we’ll go back to your cellar where your little boy is and finish the job. Just think of it as us putting you out of your misery. Everyone who didn’t die in the tornadoes will eventually die of thirst and hunger. Why not let us give you the easy way out?”

“It can’t be that bad. Help will be coming,” Ryan kept his voice low, the sweat dripping into his eyes, burning them. He blinked to try and clear them, but it didn’t help, and he was afraid to move an inch. The looter might have had a hair trigger.

“If there is one thing you should believe, it’s that they aren’t. You ever read Revelations in the bible? It’s happening. The world is ending. We’ve been all over the area. People are dead. Livestock is dead. Life as we knew it before, is over. We started looting early because we want the upper hand. The one who takes charge first is the one who survives.”

Ryan scoffed. “I’m not going to get into a philosophical argument with you. You can lower that gun and take my bag. I’m not any other use for you.”

“You look pretty strong. We could use him for something, couldn’t we?” He asked his friend, looking away for a split second. The next time he did that, Ryan had to take a chance and try to gain control. At least he’d go down fighting.

“Yeah, but I think we should just off the son of a bitch. I don’t trust him.”

Ryan glanced at the other man and back at the barrel. His heart raced so hard that it was going to thump out of his chest. He knew guns and had used them, but he had never been on this side, knowing in a second, he’d be killed with a simple pull of the trigger.

“Such a damn waste. A strong man like this could be useful, but you’re right. We can’t be watching his every move. He’s smart enough to ruin everything we’ve done so far. Sorry, not sorry.” The looter smiled. “Sorry we couldn’t give you a last meal like those ol’ boys on death row.”

Ryan wasn’t sure how he got the courage to do it, but he grabbed the barrel as hard as he could and pulled it, attempting to point it upward, away from everyone. The looter grunted and struggled as they fought over possession of the weapon, both of them falling to the floor with a hard thud. The man was stronger than Ryan had given him credit for, and again, he was looking down the barrel. He closed his eyes and tried to find the last bit of energy he had, gripping the gun so tight that his knuckles ached. He thought about Cecilia and Ty, and that was his inspiration to fight until death. The other looter tried to break up the fight, but with the shotgun moving around and unstable, he was unable to jump in and help, which worked best for Ryan. Being outnumbered would completely ruin his plan.

After what felt like an eternity, a loud gunshot rang out and Ryan felt the heat through the metal, echoing against the dirt walls of the storm shelter. Everything fell silent, including the rain and hail.

Chapter Twelve

Darryl sat beside Ty’s lawn chair and watched him sleep. The health of his grandson was concerning, and his patience was past the breaking point. He hated to think it, but the chances of ever seeing Ryan again were slim. Another storm had come through, and though it wasn’t as intense as the ones before, it was enough to do some more damage. Ryan had only left a few hours before and was probably right in the middle of it.

Any chance of having a positive attitude flew out of the window. As it was, Ty and Darryl were the only two left. Ryan’s frustrations were spot on – where in the hell was the help that should have been there by now? Plenty of time had passed for someone to get there, which made Darryl fear the worst. The weather was probably an underlying issue among a massive problem that spread farther than west Texas.

Grabbing a bottle of water, he took a sip and screwed the lid back on. He was thirsty, and the moisture soaked into his tongue like a sponge, but he feared drinking too much. Ryan had done a good job stocking up the shelter, but he hadn’t prepared for long term, nor did Darryl expect him to. He was shocked his son had done it at all.

He looked over Ty’s arm. Below the gauze, it looked like his skin had a blue tint to it. Maybe it was his imagination or the lighting – the lanterns did enough for him to see, but nothing past that, so maybe it wasn’t anything to worry too much about.

He studied everything Ryan had worked on before he got there. He had braided together switches from branches and made rope, and he had gathered wood, probably to make steps. The game plan was to get Ty out and to a hospital, but even if it seemed stupid, it was best to stay where they were and continue to hope that medical staff would get to them.

“Grandpa?” Ty lifted his head from the lawn chair, his eyes half open.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m right here.”

“When is daddy coming back?”

“I hope he comes back soon.”

Ty lay his head back. “And he’ll get me out of here when he does?”

“Yes, Ty, maybe even before that.” Darryl felt the warmth gather in the corner of his eye. He didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that the chances that his father would ever make it back were slim. It killed him to think that Ty would end up an orphan because Cecilia had probably been killed in the first storm. Based off of what Ryan had told him, she never stood a chance.

“Why do you look so sad, grandpa? If daddy is getting help, we should be happy.”

If only everyone saw the world through a child’s eyes, none of this would have been so frustrating. “I’m not sad, Ty. Just a little tired. How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts.”

“And your arm?”

“I can’t feel it.”

“You can’t feel it?” Darryl sat up. Maybe it was blue. Was the circulation cut off?

“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore, and when I try to move it, I can’t feel anything.”

Darryl knelt beside the chair and sat Ty up, being careful in the process. The child would probably get dizzy from the sudden movement. Gently moving the arm, he hoped it would get some blood flow. The protruding bone rubbed against the bandage, making Darryl cringe, but it didn’t seem to bother Ty.

“Does it hurt now?”

“Nope. Does that mean I’m getting better?”

Ty was going to lose the arm. What could he do to prevent it? “Can you stay sitting up for me, Ty?” He grabbed a blanket and balled it up behind him, helping support his back. “Does it make you feel dizzy to sit that way?”

“Dizzy?”

“You know, like when you get off of the spinning rides at the fair?”

“Yeah, a little.” Ty giggled.

The way Ty was acting didn’t help Darryl’s concerns. With a head injury, Ty could take a turn out of nowhere. His sudden change in mood meant that something was going on in his skull, or he was just being goofy because his arm wasn’t bothering him.

“Drink some water.” Darryl offered him the same bottle he had just opened. “I want you to drink as much as you can. And tell me if you start to feel your arm.”

“I don’t want to feel my arm. It didn’t feel good.”

“I know. Can you move your fingers for me?”

Ty complied with Darryl’s request, but they only wiggled for a moment. “It feels like when my feet fall asleep.”

That was a good thing. It meant the blood was starting to move. “Good! Keep moving them, okay?”

Darryl made sure they had enough ibuprofen and Tylenol. If Ty gained feeling in his arm again, he wanted to keep a handle on it. He wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if the boy did lose the use of the arm.

Spilling out one of the pills in his palm, he broke it in half and handed it to Ty. “Take this.”

“Daddy gave those to me when I was hurting. I’m not hurting.” He shook his head and drank some of the water, spilling some down his chin.

“I know, Ty, but you aren’t hurting because you took them. If we stop now, your arm might bug you again.” Why were kids so hard headed about taking pills?

Ty opened his mouth and Darryl put it on his tongue. He swallowed it with a gulp of the water and Darryl wondered if the painkillers were doing internal damage. It was adult medicine, and hopefully breaking it in half would reduce chances of liver damage and stomach problems.

“Are you hungry, Ty?”

“No.”

“You should probably eat something soon. Gotta stay strong, okay?”

Darryl looked at their options. It was food he’d never touch in normal conditions, but at that moment, it all looked delicious.

~~

Ryan had to act fast. The looter who held the gun on him was lying in a pool of blood, his eyes glossy and staring off into the oblivion. The other looter was still alive and lunged at him, but Ryan was able to grab the shotgun, aiming it at the other man. His index finger was on the trigger, ready to pull it, but the nuisance backed off, looking down at the lifeless body at his feet.

Ryan was still on the floor and he stood up, keeping the gun trained on him. Everything had happened so fast that he couldn’t remember how the gun got turned. He just kept his eyes closed and fought, not knowing the semantics of the situation. He had come out on the winning side, and with the handgun in his pocket and the shotgun in his possession, there was no way he’d lose now.

“You shot my brother, you son of a bitch!”

Ryan felt guilty, but it was replaced by a desire to live. He had his own family to think about, and had he not taken control of the situation, it would have been him on the floor in his own blood.

“Your brother got himself killed.” He checked the other man in the corner, and he hadn’t moved. He was pressed up against the dirt wall, unable to get far enough away. At least he hadn’t gotten hurt in the commotion.

“Then you better kill me, because when I get the chance, you’re a dead man.”

“Not the smartest thing to say with a gun pointed at you,” Ryan replied, unsure of what to do with him. He couldn’t kill him now. The man wasn’t exactly a threat at the moment, and he wouldn’t have the heart to pull the trigger. But he also didn’t want him running loose with the constant worry of him coming after them.

“So what are you gonna do? Call the cops?”

“I’m taking this man and we’re leaving. And don’t follow us.” It was probably stupid, but Ryan wasn’t a killer. The fact that the other looter was dead tore at him, even if it happened in self-defense. “Come with me.” Ryan motioned toward the stranger, his trust on high alert. He hated being in full on survival mode and couldn’t believe what the thieves had said about help not coming, but it seemed plausible with how everything was escalating so quickly.

The man pushed off of the wall and extended his hand. “My name is Steve. Steve Tarrant.”

“Ryan Gibson. You from around here?” He seemed familiar, but the name didn’t ring a bell.

“Just moved here from Oklahoma. Bought the old ranch down the road from here. Wasn’t in the house two months when the weather went crazy on us. We have some pretty crazy stuff happen where I’m from, but nothing ever like this.”

Ryan looked through the cabinets and filled his bag with food. It wasn’t much, but he couldn’t pass it up. “Believe me, Steve, I don’t think anyone has ever seen anything like this. Don’t let it ruin Texas for you.” He winked and tried to insert some humor, but it fell flat. They were in deep shit and both men knew that.

Pulling out a drawer, Ryan found another handgun and a box of ammunition that went with it. He also found a few more shotgun shells. He definitely wouldn’t leave any of that behind. Guns were common and most people in the area owned them, but now they were like precious gold, and taking them out of the looter’s hands would make everyone a bit safer. There were two cans of spray paint, and though he didn’t know what he’d need them for, he gathered them. Simple everyday items were now rare finds and he suddenly understood the mindset of a hoarder.

Turning to the looter, Ryan pointed the shotgun at him again. “I’m leaving some food for you.”

“Why in the hell would you do that?”

“Because I’m not an animal like you and your brother. If I find out you are out causing problems again, I won’t hesitate to blow you away, you hear me?”

The looter backed against the wall. He believed Ryan’s words just from his expression. “You say you’re looking for your wife?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s she look like?”

Ryan scoffed and hesitated to answer him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I might’ve seen her when I was out there.”

“Where?”

“With another group of people. There were like five of them.”

“How about
you
describe who you saw and I’ll let you know if it was possibly my wife?” Ryan asked.

He described a woman that resembled Cecilia. “It’s your wife, isn’t it? I did see her. She wasn’t in good shape. Looked like another group of looters, so me and my brother steered clear.”

“Where were they headed?”

“North, last time we saw them, but that was days ago.”

Ryan gripped the gun and clenched his jaw. “Why would they be keeping her?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I was going to use you and this other guy here to help rebuild, sort of like slaves to make a new place to live. Maybe they have the same idea. Or maybe she decided to stay with them. Maybe she figures it’s her only way to survive. Being out there alone is a death sentence.”

Ryan ducked his head and took a deep breath. If the woman he spoke of was, in fact, Cecilia, she had been spotted alive. Now he had to make up time and get to her. Or the looter could be leading him on a wild goose chase to throw him off course as a way of revenge for his brother’s death.

“You better not be lying.”

“I guess you’ll never know.” His evil smile was back, making the hair on the back of Ryan’s neck stand up. “Just like you’ll never know if I’ll track your ass once you leave.”

That should have been enough to give Ryan the courage to shoot him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Don’t threaten me.”

“Or what?”

Ryan pushed the barrel of the shotgun under his chin, lifting his head. His index finger rested on the trigger and he looked the man in the eye. “Your brother is dead because he was about to take
my
life, and I have two people depending on me to get help.” His voice shook and he tried to mask his emotions. “There’s still a chance for you. In times like these, it’s better to pull together instead of going around and ruining other people’s lives.”

“Or be weak and die.”

“No. I’m not weak. And I’m not going around kidnapping and killing. I’m going to leave you here. I left you some food. You’re on your own. If you want to follow us, go right ahead, but I’ve got your guns and all your ammunition. You won’t threaten me a third time, do you understand?”

He nodded and backed away, a red spot on his skin the shape of the end of the barrel. No one said a word. The only sound was the wind whipping overhead. Ryan started up the steps, adjusting his backpack that was a bit heavier from the supplies he collected.

“You coming, Steve?” He still had to feel him out, but he didn’t seem like he was a bad guy.

When they got to ground level, Steve pointed at a padlock beside the door. “They locked me in there when they’d go out to loot.”

Ryan slammed the door and dust flew up around them. Latching the lock to the metal, he secured the man inside. Pulling a can of spray paint from his bag, he painted a large red circle on the cellar, alerting help that someone was inside. He couldn’t live with himself if no one ever came, but he also couldn’t take any chances.

“In the fire department, we are trained to look for signs like this in times of disaster. X means someone is dead inside. Anything else means help is needed. Someone will come for him. Right now, he needs to stay put. The fewer jackasses like him running around, the easier it’ll be for us to do what we need to do.” Ryan mainly said it to justify his decision. There was a man dead inside, but with one still living, search and rescue would respond faster with the circle. It was too late to go back on it now. He didn’t have the key and had no clue where it was. The looter was locked inside with several days of food and water.