Steve's camera is gone, blown out the window of the car, so they don't have a way to finance the last week of the trip. They make the ten-hour drive back to Rapid City in near-silence. Pete goes back the firehouse, Claudia to her engineering firm, and Steve and Myka to the Channel Three News station.
She doesn't talk to any of them about what happened, but she's laboring under the impression that she will have to find a new team for next year. Zach and Jim would probably take her back, but she can't chase with them now for the same reason she couldn't in 2014. The empty seat beside her would still be there.
But then, on New Year's Eve, Myka is sitting on Pete's couch watching the ball drop in Times Square, and he says, "You haven't brought up next season."
Myka takes a sip of her beer. "What?" she asks.
Pete has his arm around the back of the couch behind her, but he pulls back to look at her. "We chasing this year?"
Myka raises her eyebrows. "You want to?"
"Yeah, of course." Pete jabs at her arm. "We do every year, right?"
"Yeah, I just…" Myka shrugs. "I just wasn't sure… after everything that happened last year, I didn't think anyone would want to."
"What, with Helena?" Pete asks. "Look, you weren't the one who tried to drive into a tornado. We just won't pick up any stragglers this year, right? It'll be fine."
Myka sighs and shakes her head. "We'll be lucky if I can find another videographer as good as Steve. Especially one that can just take off with us for six weeks."
"What? He's not coming?" Pete furrows his brow. "Last week, he was down."
"He was?" Myka asks.
"Yeah, him and Claudia," Pete answers. "We're all ready to go. We just weren't sure if you were. You seemed pretty rattled when we got back, and then we never talked about it."
"It just…" Myka shakes her head, "it was just such a serious lapse in judgment. And it wasn't my first one. Never mind."
"Hey, Myka." Pete leans toward her, and she knows he's about to get serious because he's not using the nickname he's called her since fourth grade. "Did you ever, you know, talk to anyone about what happened?"
"Talk to anyone?" Myka asks. "Like a…"
Pete shrugs. "It's just, a lot of the guys I served with, they needed to when they got back. To help them deal with everything."
Myka rolls her eyes. "I was in a storm, Pete. It wasn't combat."
"Doesn't matter," Pete answers. "It was trauma. It can happen to anyone. Just think about it, okay?"
The last week of April, they meet outside the warehouse where Claudia and Leena have spent the past month and a half modifying Elphaba. It's sleeker than the model Claudia cobbled together in the bed of the truck last year with Leena providing input via Facetime. They've painted it black with a green stripe along its base.
"To fit with the theme," Claudia says when Myka raises and eyebrow at her.
They park their cars inside the warehouse and load Elphaba into the bed of the truck.
"Be safe," Leena says as she hugs Myka goodbye. She can tell by the tone of her voice that Claudia has told her what happened last year. "Trust your instincts. They're good ones."
"You know that's not always true," Myka answers darkly.
"You could have talked to me, you know," Leena says.
Myka shakes her head. "I just want to forget about it."
Leena sighs. "I'm just glad to see you getting back out there. I was worried we were done when I heard."
"I could never leave you hanging like that," Myka replies. "You're set up at the university?"
"I've got my radar back out and everything," Leena answers. "All your data should come right to my computer."
Myka rests her hands on Leena's shoulders. "What would I do without you?"
"Have a good trip, okay?" Leena says. "Try not to focus on last year too much."
She gives Claudia a hug and hands her two unwieldy garbage bags. "Don't forget."
Claudia laughs. "I can just see it." She mimes holding a phone to her ear. "Yeah, Leena? Um, don't be mad but we left all the capsule refills back at the warehouse so I think we're done for the season."
Myka takes one of the bags from her and they heave them into the bed behind Elphaba.
Claudia slaps her shoulder. "Let's go. We're losing daylight."
For the first three weeks of the trip, Myka doesn't see Helena. She doesn't hear about Helena. She's not even sure Helena's chasing this year.
They're in a Waffle House in Fort Smith, Arkansas when their paths finally cross. It's early and Myka has a plate of pancakes and data from the National Weather Service office in Booneville spread out on the table in front of her.
She looks up to see if there's a syrup pitcher on the table next to them, and Helena is at the counter ordering a tea.
She drops her fork, a piece of pancake still hanging off it, and it clatters against her plate.
Helena looks toward the source of the noise. Her eyes widen when they land on Myka. She nods hesitantly, and the corner of her mouth twitches toward a smile.
Myka nods back, but she doesn't return the smile. She can see Helena swallow before turning back toward the elderly woman preparing her tea.
Pete sees her too. Myka can feel him stiffen beside her. He doesn't say anything, for which Myka is grateful. She tries to turn her attention back to the argument Claudia and Steve are having about whether they should head for a large supercell outside Lubbock, Texas that won't give them enough time to reach a promising-looking string of storms beginning to form near the Missouri-Iowa boarder.
Helena leaves as they're paying their check, and Myka breathes a sigh of relief. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to her. It's that she doesn't not want to talk to her.. It's best if they stay on their separate paths. A clean break.
Helena catches her on the sidewalk just outside the door.
"Myka, may I have a word?"
Pete looks at her with his eyebrows raised. Claudia and Steve turn around towards them, and Claudia's face folds into a deep scowl. Myka almost expects her to answer for her.
"It's okay," Myka tells them.
Pete pauses like he might disagree, but then he nods, still eyeing Helena, and turns toward Steve and Claudia. "Come on. Let's get the GPS set up. It's a long way to St. Joseph."
"St. Joseph, Missouri?" Helena asks turning away from Pete, towards Myka. "You're risking it too."
"What do you want?" Myka crosses her arms.
"Just to talk," Helena answers, and she has the audacity to sound completely innocent.
"Yeah, well, like Pete said, we have a pretty long way to go," Myka answers. "Make it fast."
"I'm glad to see you again," Helena says.
Myka sighs and looks away, into the front window of the Waffle House.
"I know you may not be happy to see me," Helena continues. "And I am truly sorry about what transpired last year. I heard you had to cut your trip short because of it. But I thought I'd give you this."
She hands Myka a folded paper napkin. Myka eyes it for a moment before taking it.
"I can't imagine you're feeling terribly generous towards me, but, well, it would make me feel better to know you had a way to reach me if you ever wanted… in case you ever needed to."
She reaches out and hesitantly rests a hand on Myka's arm and squeezes, and then she walks off across the parking lot toward a dark red, late-nineties era Nissan that must have replaced the Corolla she totaled last year.
"Didn't think we'd see her again so soon," Pete says as Myka climbs into the passenger seat of the truck. "What was that about?"
Myka unfolds the napkin crumpled in her fist. There's a number scrawled across it in smudged blue pen. The impression is deep and clear, but there are no holes in the napkin, like Helena writes on them a lot and knows the secret to it.
"She gave me her phone number."
Pete shakes his head. "She's got balls. I'll give her that."
Myka doesn't intend to call Helena. She intends to drop the napkin in the trashcan in her motel room in St. Joseph, Missouri and not think about it again. She intends to spend the rest of May seething that Helena could be presumptuous enough to give Myka her phone number after nearly killing her teammate.
Myka intends to do a lot of things she doesn't.
She digs the napkin out of the trash while Claudia is in the shower and types the number into her phone.
Where are you staying
The reply comes in before she's even set her phone back down on the bed beside her.
Motel 6
The Motel 6 is a seven-minute walk from the Days Inn where Myka's team is camped out, on the other side of I-29 and past a Red Lobster and a Denny's. The sun is sinking below the horizon as Myka crosses the overpass and the next text comes in.
I'm in room 4
"I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon," Helena says as she opens the door. She still wears the same lose shirts and tight pants she wore last year, and Myka hates that she looks so similar when Myka feels so different.
"I didn't want to come," Myka admits, but she's already pulling Helena towards her with a hand on the back of her neck.
"Should we talk?" Helena asks, breathless between long, enthusiastic kisses.
"I'm not here to talk," Myka answers.
"Right then."
The sex is completely different than it was last spring. Last spring they laughed. They cracked jokes. They had the most fun Myka has ever had during sex. It felt like they were entering some other universe where was no pressure and no sense of time. Now it's rushed and desperate and silent. It feels halfway between the sex people have with their significant other after a fight but before making up and the sex people have with their exes that they both pretend never happened the next morning.
Last year they left the lights off because they were so eager to get to each other. This year, Myka makes sure they're off because not having to see Helena means she won't have to think so hard about what she's doing.
When they're finished, Myka doesn't linger. Helena is still lying on her back panting when she gets up to start looking for her clothes.
"You don't have to leave so soon," she says, lifting her head off the pillow. The way the moonlight drenches her face makes her look like a ghost.
"Yes, I do," Myka answers. "Claudia will wonder where I was."
Helena props herself up on her elbow. "You must have been gone for at least an hour and a half by now" she points out. "I dare say she's already wondering."
Myka ignores her. "Text me what town you're in tomorrow night," she says as she opens the door of the motel room. She forces herself not to look back and focuses instead, as she crosses back over I-29, on how she feels like shit.
It goes on like that for two weeks. Every night they're in the same town and staying within walking distance of each other, Myka goes to Helena's motel room. They don't talk and Myka never stays once they're finished.
At first it's hurried and frantic because is Myka slows down, even for a second, she might realize what she's doing and come to her senses, but as the nights continue, Helena begins to draw it out. She falls back into the rhythm they had last May when time felt like no object to them. Myka can't decide whether she likes or dislikes the change. The sex is better now, but it makes her feel worse. She shouldn't enjoy doing something like this with someone like Helena.
She's not sure how they can ever go anywhere together after what happened, and she hates that she's even thought about it.
The seventh time Myka sees Helena, Claudia is waiting for her when she gets back to their room.
She's sitting cross-legged on the comforter playing solitaire with a pack of actual playing cards. She doesn't look up when she asks, "Where have you been?"
"Out," Myka answers.
Claudia rolls her eyes. "In this town? There's like eight hundred people here. Where did you go? The tractor supply shop?"
"I went for a walk," Myka answers.
"It's been two hours." Claudia looks up at her as she crosses her arms. "I was starting to worry some sort of Children of the Corn shit was going down. I wouldn't do well in a horror movie. I haven't worked out since tenth grade gym."
"Look, I'm sorry I worried you," Myka says. "But I'm fine. You see that."
Claudia shakes her head and scoots to the edge of the bed, scattering the playing cards with her knee. They have an image of a grey-skinned, round-eyed alien on the back. Myka recognizes them from two years ago, when they ended the season with a trip down the Extraterrestrial Highway.
"You keep mysteriously disappearing, not a word to me or anyone else. This is the third time this week. You don't have to lie to me." Suddenly, she gasps and the corners of her lips curve up into a smirk. "Were you getting laid? Was it by that waitress from Waffle House? You were with someone, right? Tinder date?"
"I don't have Tinder," Myka answers.
"Then, I swear to god, I don't know how you find them all the way out here." Claudia shakes her head. "The nearest gay bar is what, an hour away?"
Myka nods. "In Lawton, probably. Forty minutes."
"So you weren't there because the truck didn't move, and I know you don't have the money to Uber that far. Do they even have Uber all the way out here?"
"I don't have Uber either," Myka answers.
"You don't have… okay, fine," Claudia says as she starts to gather her playing cards. "Don't tell me. It's not like we're friends and I worry about you when you disappear into the plains after dark or anything."
Myka collapses on the end of her bed across from where Claudia is sitting with a sigh. She presses her face into her hands.
"Okay," she says. "Okay. I was with someone."
"I knew it! I knew it!" Claudia squeals. "Leena didn't think so, but I told her. Who is it? Has it been the same person this whole time? So she has to be another chaser, right?"
Myka nods. She clenches her jaw, and then she lets go.
"You remember Helena?"
She hears the mattress squeak as Claudia stands up.
"Helena who drove straight at an approaching tornado and almost got Steve killed last May?" she asks. "Yeah, I remember her."
Myka nods.
There's a long, tense pause.
"Does Steve know?"
Myka shakes her head. "No one does."
"Are you… are you dating her?" Claudia asks.
"No," Myka answers quickly. "It's just sex. We've barely said ten words to each other."
"Well, I guess that explains the sneaking," she says. It reminds Myka of the way her mother used to talk to her when she was in high school, sneaking out to spend her evenings reading under the bleachers at the football field just to avoid being at home. "Why?"
"I don't know," Myka says. "When she first approached me, I was so sure I never wanted to see her again. I threw her number away and then I just… I don't know. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. And every time I do it, I tell myself it's going to be the last time, but I always know that it won't be."
Claudia sighs and sits down next to her.
"You really like her."
Myka nods.
Claudia inhales throw clenched teeth. "That sucks."
Myka nods again.
"You should tell Pete and Steve," she says. "They should know. Especially Steve."
"You think they'll be pissed?" Myka asks.
Claudia takes a moment to think. "I think Steve is too understanding, especially towards you," she answers. "And I'm not sure Pete could stay mad at you if he tried. It'll be fine."
Myka lays back on the bed, her hands still covering her eyes. "Why am I doing this?"
"Hey, that's your shit to work through." She feels Claudia's weight lift off the mattress, and a second later, she hears a squeak as Claudia climbs back into the other bed. "I'm going to sleep. Do you need the lights on?"
Claudia is right. Steve and Pete don't seem angry.
"It's reassuring to know that my near-death experience wasn't for nothing," Steve says, a smile on his face, after Myka tells them over breakfast the next morning.
They're stuffed into a booth in the back corner of a Burger King in Duncan, Oklahoma. It's one of the larger towns they've stayed in this year, with a population of 23,000. It actually feels suburban.
"So you're fine with it," Myka says in slight disbelief.
Steve shrugs. "I don't care who you do as long as I never have to get in a car with her again."
Pete takes a sip of his coffee. He hasn't said anything. Myka raises her eyebrows at him and he raises his eyebrows back, but he remains silent.
Steve reaches across the table and shoves at her arm. "So is it serious?"
Myka shakes her head. "It's not anything. I told Claudia last night. It's just sex."
"I hope that's not on my account," he says. "You guys really hit it off last year. She's reckless, sure, and you know, you'd never want to let her drive, but you could use some of that in your life."
"It's not just that she's reckless," Myka explains. "It's like she has some sort of death wish and she doesn't care who else she kills on her way out. She put your life on the line, after I trusted her enough to put you in a car with her. That's not something I can just get over."
Steve nods. "Okay, I get it." He checks his watch. She swears the two of them must be the only people left who still wear them, but it makes her feel better to have one on, especially during a chase. "It's almost ten. We should get going if we want to make it to Lindsborg by three."
"Yeah, let's go," Myka agrees, picking up her coffee and looping her arm through the strap of her backpack as Claudia slides out of the booth.
"Pete," she calls as they're leaving the building. He stops halfway through the door and turns toward her. "Hang back a second?"
"Sure," he says. He glances out the window where Claudia and Steve are halfway to the car and still haven't realized they aren't behind them, and lets the door swing closed. "What's up?"
"You're quiet," she says. "Thoughts?"
Pete sighs. "I don't know what you want me to say." He shakes his head and glances over his shoulder at Claudia and Steve. They're standing at the back of the truck now, watching. "I know you know you don't need my permission to see someone."
"Are you upset about it?" she asks. She knows she sounds like a child who's done something they knew they weren't supposed it. In some ways, she feels like that too. But Pete is her best friend, and if this is going cause a problem between them, she wants to know about it now. She won't lose him.
Pete is silent for a moment. He leans against the door frame and thinks.
"I'm not mad at you for seeing her," he finally answers. "I know it's not… it's not always easy for you out here. I know you feel alone. But…" he scratches the back of his neck. "I just don't want to see you hurt."
"I know you don't," she says.
"I don't think it's a good idea," he continues. "What you said… something's not right with her. You know how you are. You feel responsible for everything that happens around you. I don't want you to get dragged into whatever she's got going on."
"I know." Myka squeezes his arm. "I'll be careful."
He smiles at her almost sadly and nods. "You always are. I'm just not sure it's going to be enough this time." He glances down at his wrist even though he doesn't wear a watch and says, "Steve's right. We need to move. Don't want to miss another storm."
"Hey!" she protests as she pushes the door open, glad to have something comfortable to talk about. "That was your call last Thursday, not mine. I wanted to go to Dearing. We would have caught the tornado in Dearing."
By the time the Rosalia storm hits, Myka has been meeting Helena for almost a month. They've spent fifteen nights together, and Myka hasn't gotten any closer to ending it or to admitting to herself that she doesn't want to.
Claudia has suggested picking up other women the way she used to before she met Helena that first time.
"It was always easy for you to find someone before," she'd said. "You just need to get your mind off her."
Myka had sighed and said she'd think about it, and she'd even downloaded Tinder to appease her, but she'd never really thought about it. She'd deleted the app again the next morning. Looking at the little white icon had made her chest hurt.
"It looks like most of the roads here are dirt," Claudia says from the back seat as they head east of Rosalia, Kansas towards the spot where their supercell is starting to rotate. "We'll have to get in front of it before it crosses US-54."
"That gives us one opportunity," Myka adds. "We're not taking any chances on dirt roads. Pavement or gravel only. If it's a bust, at least we'll get some great footage."
"That's right," Pete replies. "Keep a roof over our heads for another week. Not that I wouldn't sleep in a car with the three of you, but we should try to avoid that if we can."
"Okay, look, look!" Myka points out the passenger side window, towards the mesocyclone. "It's coming down in that field back there. I think we need to be farther east."
The funnel cloud stretching toward the ground is rain-wrapped, only a shadow against the haze of precipitation, but Myka can tell that it's big. Six years ago, she would have called it a monster, but she uses that word more selectively now. It's got to be a mile across but she can tell from her window that it's moving predictably, southwest to northeast. It's not the kind of storm that would kill an experienced team of chasers.
Pete speeds up and heads east along the highway until Myka reaches for his arm.
"Okay, let's deploy here."
She's out of the car before Pete has slowed to a complete stop along the side of the road, pulling on the work gloves she stowed in the glove compartment at the beginning of the season. She and Steve lower the back hatch and pull Elphaba towards them.
By the time the front part of the base is over the edge of the bed, Pete and Claudia are beside them. They heave the machine into the grass beside the road, just at the edge of the field. Pete helps her hammer the stakes into the ground, and Steve and Claudia climb back in the truck. The storm is closing in, wiping the tall grass around their calves and blowing Myka's hair into her face.
"That's good! Let's go!" Pete calls to her over the dull roar of the oncoming storm. Hail has started to fall around them. It's its small, but it's a sign that they should move out of the way.
"Baseball sized hail! Jesus Christ! Is it supposed to get this big?"
They sprint back to the truck and Myka climbs into the passenger seat and slams the door behind her. Pete starts the car and speeds off so quickly that the force knocks Myka back against the seat.
"Jesus," Claudia groans.
"Sorry," Pete answers. "Just didn't want another close call."
Myka watches the storm cross the highway behind them. "Look at that," she murmurs as it takes a fence out of the ground and wraps it around itself in a way that reminds her of how staffs of music fly through the air in old cartoons.
Claudia turns to look out the back window as well. "Did it deploy?"
"Can't tell," Myka answers.
Pete pulls off the highway onto Township Road 36, just northwest of Reece. It's a gravel road, and the storm is north of them by now anyway. Myka would prefer to stick to pavement all the time, but in the rural plains, that's not usually possible.
He drives up a hill past a clump of trees and pulls off the road. Claudia helps Steve unload his tripod, which is stuck on something under Pete's seat, and they set it up in the grass behind the truck.
"Great vantage point," Steve mutters as he mounts the camera.
"You can see for miles out here," Claudia agrees, as if that isn't the case everywhere they go.
Pete reaches into the compartment in the driver's door and produces two cans of Coke.
"To a successful chase," he says.
Myka chuckles. "Shut up. If that thing turns on us in two minutes, it's your fault for jinxing it."
They crack open their Cokes just as Steve looks back at them.
"Hey, are you guys seeing this?"
"What?" Myka asks, moving closer to the camera.
"Look at this." Steve moves aside and points west, toward Township Road 34. When Myka squints, she can see the shadow of a vehicle—a Sedan, she thinks—emerges from the wall of precipitation wrapping the funnel. "Who is that guy?"
As 34 curves toward them and the car approaches, Myka squints to try to make it out. It's dark but not black and Myka can tell by the shape that it's at least fifteen years old. She can't make out the brand, but there's a sinking feeling in her chest.
She hasn't seen Helena in three days. She went down to a storm in Texas while they were in Calumet near Oklahoma City. Myka doesn't even know if she's here.
It feels like she's watching it happen in slow motion. The wind peels the car off the road, passenger side wheels first, and then driver's side. The car shoots towards the funnel cloud and then flies off into a field to the north. She can see it hit the ground and roll several times.
"They're dead," Claudia murmurs faintly. "We just watched someone die."
"What were they thinking?" Pete asks. "All they had to do was stop. They drove right into it."
"They probably didn't see it," Myka answers faintly. "They were core-punching. They probably drove out of heavy rain and right into the tornado without even knowing it was there. That's why we don't do it."
Steve turns his camera off. "Let's go."
They drive up 36, Claudia and Steve with the tripod still laying across their laps, until it intersects with 34. Claudia's trying to get Leena on her cell phone, despite the fact that none of them have service.
They can see the overturned car in the field out of Pete's window as they approach. The entire roof of the dark red Nissan is dented in.
Pete pulls off the road and Myka is out of the truck before anyone else has even taken off their seatbelts. She runs to the car and drops to her knees beside the broken driver's side window.
Helena is hanging upside down in her seat. Her arms are bent and the backs of her hands are resting on the ceiling. There's blood on her face, but when Myka reaches towards her, she looks in her direction.
"Oh," she says. "I must say, I'm happy to see you, but I expect this will make things a tad awkward later."
"Are they alive?" Claudia calls as she runs up behind Myka and drops down beside her. "Oh," she says. "Look who it is."
"Alive," she answers. "Conscious. Talking."
"That's got to be a miracle," Steve says, his voice growing louder as he approaches. "We saw them roll, what, three times?"
"At least," Claudia replies. "After being thrown."
Helena grimaces and nods at her. "I'm quite aware. Claudia, long time no see. I won't stop you from gloating, but do you think you might at least help me out of here first?"
Helena turns out to be hurt worse than she let on. Myka probably should have expected that, given that she watched the whole thing happen. She's not a doctor, but she understands enough to know that when you can see the bone, the leg is broken, and there's a jagged cut on the side of her neck turning the shoulder of her powder blue shirt brown.
"I'll go with her to the hospital," she tells the rest of her team. Claudia raises her eyebrows at her, but none of them look particularly surprised.
Myka glances at Helena, sitting in the grass propped against one of the back wheels of their truck. She looks ashen and nauseous and she's clutching her right side.
"I just don't think anyone should be alone when they're hurt," she explains, but the way they're looking at her doesn't change.
They take Helena to the hospital in El Dorado. Myka's not family, so she sits in the waiting room while Helena's being x-rayed.
"We're staying at the Holiday Inn Express off the Turnpike," Pete tells her over the phone while she's buying a vending machine coffee and a Snickers. "Call me when she's done. I'll come get you."
"It's late," Myka says, glancing down at her watch. It's almost eight, and Helena probably won't be done for another few hours. She doesn't want to leave without at least saying goodbye.
"It's not that far," Pete answers. "Two miles down the road. It'll take me five minutes. We might be out late anyway. Claud found a bar with a karaoke night, so we're headed over there."
"Wow," Myka says flatly. "Such a shame I missed that."
Pete chuckles. "I know. We're going to get 'Redneck Woman' out of you someday."
"Over my dead body," she answers. "I should let you go. Tell Steve to sing some NSYNC for me."
"I think he's already got the song picked out." She can hear the smile in his voice, but then he pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone is serious. "Listen, Mykes. If you need to talk, call me, okay? You're my best friend. Missing Claudia butcher some eighties power ballad is no sweat if you need me."
Myka bites her lip. There had been a time in high school when she thought she might have feelings for Pete, and this is why. How earnest he is. How much he cares about her. If she was going to manufacture romantic feelings for a guy, she's glad it was him.
"I know," she answers softly. "But I think I'm just going to try to take a nap."
She sets her untouched coffee on a side table next to a three-year-old copy of Better Homes & Gardens and leans her head back against the wall, but she doesn't sleep. Helena's car being picked up and tossed is playing behind her eyelids over and over again, but she can feel the car being lifted off the road like she's a passenger. She can feel the dizzying spinning inside the tornado. She can feel the visceral fear of thinking she's about to die from deep within her chest and the overwhelming emptiness of realizing that someone is gone. She feels nauseous.
"Ms. Bering?"
She jerks upright when someone with a high, molasses-sweet voice calls her name.
"You can go back now."
She stands up and runs her hand over her hair. She feels shaky. Her head hurts.
The hospital is tiny. The door to Helena's room is almost visible from the waiting room. She's leaning back against a stack of pillows when Myka walks in. She's got a large band-aid on the side of her neck, and her right leg is immobilized. There's a cup of ice on the table in front of her.
"You didn't have to stay," she says without looking up.
"Yes, I did." Myka sits down in the chair beside the bed. "How are you?"
"Two broken ribs, a concussion, and my leg needs surgery," she grumbles with a wince. "I've certainly been better."
"You could have died," Myka points out.
Helena sighs and drops her head back against the pillows. "Yes, I know. I'm lucky to be alive. I shouldn't complain. I—"
"That's not what I'm saying," she says. "You could have died. Do you even care?"
Helena rolls her head to the side to look at her. "Of course I care."
"Well, you could have fooled me," Myka says. "Core-punching with a tornado that size? What were you thinking? You're not some amateur. I know you know better."
"I was thinking that there are things more important than my life," she answers. "I was thinking that if I got my data and someone else—someone like you—was able to find it and use it, then my being dead wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
"So what?" Myka asks. "You're just going to keep doing this? Driving into storms none of us have any business being that close to when you know how dangerous it is? Totaling a car every season? Completely abandoning your sense of self-preservation?"
"Myka," she says sternly. Her eyes bore into her like she's looking straight through her. "I would gladly give my life for all of the people who are going to die, to lose their children to tornados between this year and next."
"Then I can't be here," Myka says. "I can't watch you kill yourself. I've lost—I've already…" She trails off and looks up towards the ceiling. She can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she blinks rapidly to stop them from falling.
"You lost someone," Helena murmurs. "A teammate?"
Myka bites her lip and nods.
"In El Reno?" Helena asks. Myka can feel her fingers drift over the back of her hand where it rests on the bed.
Myka nods again. "We got stuck in it. We were… we were picked up and tossed, and the three of us in the car, we were fine—well not—we walked away. But Sam was sucked out the window. He was sitting there next to me one second and the next he was just… he was gone."
She can still hear him screaming beside her over the deafening winds. She can still remember the second his voice abruptly stopped.
"Myka…" Helena says.
"I was navigating," she says. She wipes her eyes and shakes her head. "So if you think you're going to be some sort of martyr, I can't stop you, but I won't stick around while you do it. I can't have another friend's death on my hands. I don't think I'd survive that."
She squeezes Helena's hand. "Do you have a way home?"
Helena smiles sadly at her. "I'll get there."
And she turns and leaves, and she doesn't look back.