The phone was ringing. All it would do was ring. Max fully expected Red to pick it up at any moment, pick it up and reassure him that everything was still going swimmingly, that none of the horses were injured and Angelfire had yet to go into labor. Instead, all Max received was a long shrill ringing.

Max was pacing around his kitchen, one of his shoes on and the other off. He had been debating whether or not to try to head over to Pine Hollow, regardless of fallen trees; Deborah had told him she was sure that city officials would be out there the second they were able to move the trees. Max knew this was most likely and had decided that he would stay home and settle for still calling Red. That had been a fine plan – back when Red still picked up the phone.

"Pick up the damn phone, Red," Max growled. The phone was still ringing. Finally Max heard something that sounded like someone had picked it up – Max started to exclaim something – and then there was more beeping. This beeping was much worse than the last one. A feminine robotic voice came on the line and said, "I'm sorry, the line you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Please check the number or dial again. This is a recording."

Max slammed the phone into the cradle, and picked it right back up a second later, trying to remember Red's cell phone number. What could Red possibly be doing that was so important that he couldn't pick up the phone and talk to him? It occurred to Max that maybe the power was out at Pine Hollow. This, combined with the possibility that Red's cell phone could be dead, was entirely terrifying.

However, to Max's utter relief, Red picked up his cell phone on the second ring. "Red? Are you there? Did the power go out?"

"The power didn't go out, Max," said Red. Max realized that Red was the one sounding frantic now, too. "Max – a tree just fell and it took out your office. It cut the barn in half." Before Max could ask, Red quickly added, "I saved the horses and I got everything that looked important out of your office."

"Except for the phone," breathed Max.

"Except for the phone."

Max shook his head. "I need to be out there, Red. Is there any possible way you think that anyone could get through to you?"

"I haven't gone to see the road since I checked it out this morning. I've been a little busy doing everything else." Red started to say something else, but instead of hearing some more of Red's speech, Max heard a sharp intake of air, as if Red was in pain.

"Red, tell me the truth. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just – never mind. Don't worry about me, Max. I've got everything under control. Pine Hollow and I will live through this." Red paused before adding, "And so will you."

Max really, really hated not being able to be out there braving the weather and saving the horses with Red. He also hated the fact that Red insisted upon lying and saying he was fine when it was clear he wasn't. "In all seriousness, Red, please just tell me what's wrong."

Red hesitated. "Before I talked to you last time, I was trying to break down the door to your office, and I think I twisted my ankle. But really, I can make it through this, Max. We've both got to keep believing that."

Max had to wonder how these conversations always turned around to Red consoling Max. Max was the one that was safe and sound, while Red was trapped in the middle of nowhere with doubtlessly frantic horses and an injured ankle; Max should have been comforting Red. "I know," said Max finally. "Don't you forget that, Red. Don't you dare give up."

When Red spoke next, Max could hear the smile in his voice. "Got it, Chief."

"I'm calling again in an hour."

"Yes sir."

Max was the first to hang up this time. His hands were shaking as he fumbled to put the phone back into its cradle. He couldn't believe this was happening – and why on Earth did Red's ankle have to give out during this direst of all situations? Max started to pace again in the kitchen, unsure of what else he could possibly do to try and help.

In the other room, Deborah was pacing, too. She was using her cell phone, talking to someone or other. Max could hear bits and pieces of the conversation. From what he could tell, Deborah was trying to procure information on the thunderstorms and their severity – and how long they were going to last.

Max sighed and wandered into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. The Weather Channel was still playing loudly. They were showing footage of the damage the storm had caused thus far. There were trees sticking half-out of houses, trees lying slanted across roads, trees sitting on top of cars, trees doing this, trees doing that – Max suddenly wondered if he was going to hate trees after all of this.

Apparently the wind was gaining speed. There was some more footage, this time of trees being knocked to the ground from the forceful gusts. Some shingles from the roofs of houses were being torn off, too. Max watched with an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He could picture only too easily the tree as it crashed onto Pine Hollow, cutting neatly through the roof, taking down most of the hayloft with it, crushing his office, several horses, and Red along the way –

No. Red was fine, the horses were fine, and everything that had been of great importance was out of his office. There has to be a bright side to this, Max thought. He mulled over the bright-side possibilities only to realize that there weren't any. All that could come of even just this tree being the only damage was that they would have to replace the roof, rebuild half the barn, and pay to get the tree taken off the property.

Maybe, though, there was a bright side to this: Red and the horses were still alive. Max tried to tell himself this was the most important part of the catastrophe. He checked his watch, kind of hoping that an hour had mysteriously passed and it was time to call Red again.

It had been four minutes.

This was going to be a very, very long thunderstorm, wasn't it?

A/N: You got that right, Max. Heh, heh. ;)