Sins In Twisters
Chapter 28: A Gray World
It was only a few minutes into their journey, and the silence was only broken by the sounds of the truck marching through the rain, the sweeping wipers, or the squealing brakes. The road ahead and behind remained empty, save for the timely sedan speeding by.
But Sam had so many questions she wanted to ask.
Just looking around, she couldn't help but marvel at the monster of steel she was riding in. So many switches, gauges, and buttons, all lighting up to various degrees or waiting to be touched, like mission control or spacecraft. The seat made it feel like she was sitting in a typical day truck, but how close the wall slanted in and the rain-streaked across the window made it feel so much more raw of a ride. Every bump they went over and turn they banked through, she could feel the weight of this thing move with every action.
And there sat Lincoln Loud, little brother to former rockstar and bandmate Luna Loud, leaning back with one hand on the wheel and the other laying on the glovebox with his door wide open without a care in the world with wind and rain pelting his side with a concentrated yet uneasy look in his eyes. She could imagine him switching roles with one of her parents. Maybe father or grandfather when they just wanted to drive somewhere to get something off their mind, and she was here for the ride.
She still couldn't believe that this was Lincoln.
Sam knew that being out in the world would change people. They would change a little or massively, whether it was their element or not. She remembered just as much when the band was riding high on success after success until one day, it had all fallen apart. It was a massive fall in life she didn't think would happen like it did. So many things were said and left unsaid, promises broken, and dreams for what the future might be like in the hope things would improve.
She knew Luna had recovered. She was going her own little route this time, and she respected her for it. She was still part of the rock world…
And then there was Lincoln… Five years ago, she remembered when the band had gone national. During that period, she hadn't really interacted with Luna's family all that much. You'd think that being girlfriends, the two of them would have been popping in and out of their families' homes whenever they weren't on tour. Whenever she saw her little brother grow when she wasn't there, she felt like so much more time had passed than she had thought.
The Louds were just the same. On the few occasions that popped up around Royal Woods where all of them would join in, she could see the subtle changes. But among them, Lincoln had changed so much. Until he was 14, he was relatively the same; after that, it was like he had molted into a whole new person. His face chiseled out; his body took on muscle and height, and his voice had a slightly deeper tone once puberty hit. His appearance changed with his new taste in clothes, but that face and white hair had always been something she could pick out of a crowd of thousands.
She couldn't remember exactly when they last met. It was last year, maybe a month before Luna had lost her hearing during a sold-out show near the end of their summer tour. He wasn't there for long, perhaps a few hours, and they only interacted during the band's in-between breaks between tracks. They had only talked for a few minutes during the halftime point; she remembered even asking him if there was anything in particular he hoped or wanted to hear that night. He didn't specify anything, so they went crazy for when the encore was requested.
But she saw a very different man in the storm and hospital room. So much of that youth she saw before was stripped away. A year could change a lot in someone, but she didn't believe it would be this significant to someone like Lincoln. Like his sisters, he was too stubborn to let life drag him down that deep.
She had hoped to see some of that youth start to shine a little, but with every second that ticked by, nothing changed. He vaguely knew the route she referred to. There wouldn't be any change until later, and every second between them was just silence. He would have been so curious that she could see what he had thought in his brain, but he refused to speak it.
So she took charge and tried to break the silence somehow, spitting out the first thought that came to mind after looking over the truck and its driver. "So… storm chaser, huh?"
Lincoln glanced over, confused, "Huh?"
"It's quite a job. I always figured you would have kept at art or your magic."
Understanding what she meant, he nodded, "Doing magic tricks really isn't a career that pays the bills. I still do art in my free time, but not to the level I did before."
"With how you were going, I thought you'd be in college by now."
"It was an idea a long time ago. But over time, things changed. I know Clyde is attending online college right now. Chasing itself doesn't bring in the constant income if the weather doesn't cooperate, but I've found ways to keep stable."
Sam understood this as well. Being even a former rockstar, she didn't have to worry as much about the cost of living. Royalties from all the music she helped make before was that little extra she used to live comfortably and have that wiggle room to continue. She and Luna were practically operating on the same frequency, making their own independent music that went straight to their pockets, but sometimes, even that wasn't enough to maintain.
Nowadays, it is more of a hobby than a job, but the feeling it gives her when the inspiration hits and all the pieces come together makes her sing out loud with pride. Even if it doesn't earn much back, it gives her that outlet to express part of her true self.
"I just didn't think you, of all people, would go after tornadoes. Let alone be so far from home."
"It's… a complicated story." He signed. Unsure if the last nine years or two days were crazy enough to be their own stories. "But since that day back home… it's like it became my calling. You, Luna, and everyone before feel so alive when you're on stage in front of thousands; you feel so alive, don't you?"
She nodded, "Storms are just like that. The wait is ungodly, and all the driving is truly hell. There's a chance every storm you get could make your year or be another in a line of failures. But when it all comes together…" he leaned back in his seat, eyes wide towards the sky, smiling like he was witnessing a fond memory, "... you just feel so alive…."
There it was, even if it was a little dimmer than she had hoped. There was that smile that she remembered. There was that Lincoln Loud she remembered. The way he spoke about storms was like how she remembered Luna for so many years, dreaming of the day they went big. When they got the news that they were going national, it was the biggest moment of their lives. The thrill it was to play in sold-out concerts of fans must have been what he felt chasing twisters.
"I bet your family is always a bit nervous whenever you go out, eh?" She joked. Seeing all the times they heard terrible weather somewhere, Luna would get nervous about him. Sam would, too, but both understood that he was an intelligent boy who knew more about what he was doing than they knew. It was only reasonable to think that, with a family like theirs, they would bite their nails in panic every time they heard how close he was.
Yet she watched that smile crumble. That brief sparkle disappeared again as he slumped in his seat, looking as drained as before.
"Yeah… I bet they do." He said quietly.
Sam felt any little positivity in the vehicle take a big hit and felt her own faltering. Thinking she had said something sensitive, she quickly recalled everything she had said before. Talking about storms got him smiling. He was probably ready to go on an unstoppable roll if the conversation led into it, but the second she mentioned family, he practically shut himself down.
She knew how close the family was to each other. She could see how much Luna and Lincoln shared a deeper bond whenever Sam poked fun at their antics at times. Give her a few more years; she could see Luna as his mother. She was pretty sure if they weren't blood or family-related, he would be one of her best friends or more.
There wasn't anger or resentment in his eyes, at least from what she could see. Regret in his voice that sapped away his light like a curse.
"How far away now?" He suddenly asked as he slowly turned them onto McGavock.
"Just keep going until you're past the middle school. I'll tell you when to turn," she said, leaning up to watch the streets more closely.
Lincoln kept their speed slow. Just barely at the limit as he tracked over the path they had taken away from the storm. Tree damage was everywhere, with some pieces of debris that probably had been carried beyond the wind field and found their spots. So much of the path had this around the southern portions when he had to travel back through Old Hickory.
He wished his equipment was charged or had some freed-up memory. It wasn't often he would casually backtrack through the damage path of a destructive tornado like that and get as close to a "The Day After" shot from a short time after impact to what was the beginning stages of the clean-up effort.
After his breakfast, he charged his phone enough to make some calls. The very first was to get an update on the Foundation and see where they were at. The hurricane had already put the whole organization into high gear before it made landfall, and with conditions down south spreading out over a third of the country, their resources and headcount were getting massively stretched thin.
He had gotten word that more active severe weather was moving eastward, with more tornadoes swarming as more towns came under attack. Dozens of other chasers and hundreds of people were already reporting what was happening, and all he could do now was wait.
The call with Clyde was interesting. A lot was said, but they knew that saying more over the phone wouldn't hold the meaning. When asked when he was coming home, Lincoln had said that after tying up some things here, he'd drive into the night or leave tomorrow morning. Taking Sam home did very little to numb the fact that he had an 11-hour drive back to El Reno.
Taking it slow and steady now felt much better after being on the move so much yesterday. Yesterday, he had to make every minute and mile count. Today, he still had a trip planned, but he could relax a bit without a storm overhead.
"The second left coming up here," Sam pointed ahead.
Slowing the truck down and catching for traffic, he turned into the more packed residential area sandwiched between the river. It made him worry, given how close to the damage path they were getting. They were under a mile from where Sam had gone airborne, and the storm unleashed its true power. The GPS took them up to a nearly throwing distance of the Parkway. He could see some reason as to why Sam had tried to get off before the storm cut off her route.
Coming to a stop at another intersection, she pointed out his window and said, "Keep going that way. You'll see the road go up a driveway towards the end."
Doing as told, that tank went a steady 20mph as it turned on another street. Sam gestured for him to continue towards a dead end, where the road almost instantly narrowed from something that any passing car would have a tough time to a path on which the tank was too large to fit. The two swayed in their seats as Lincoln tried to keep the truck on the path, feeling it slip into the grass and leaving trenches as they came up a hill to a little brick home tucked into the trees.
Easing to a stop under a large tree in the front yard, Lincoln felt a little surprised at seeing the residence of a former rockstar where he could imagine Pop-Pop living. Close to people and accommodations but far enough away and secluded that you wouldn't have to worry about said people bothering you unless they went looking for you. The home looked cozy, a single-story brick with a two-car garage and a yard wrapping around the right side with a thick treeline blocking any view of the neighbors.
From there, it wasn't so different from any ordinary home. Some ornaments in the yard were knocked over by the wind, with some fallen branches here and there, but it was just so plain and simple you wouldn't think twice who lived here.
It was cozy in its function; what more could someone want for simple privacy? It had its charms, like the farm. The gradual curve and slope provided decent cover in hiding the tank from street view, even if it stuck out like a piece of military equipment trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Locking the brake, Lincoln unbuckled and slid out the open door. Coming around, he pulled open Sam's door as she unbuckled herself and got her bags in hand. Reaching up, he prepared to take her on again to bring her down. "Ca-"
"You don't have to say it." She cut him off, letting herself slide down the edge until she was free. "I know."
He sighed, "Sorry. I tend to get a little carried away."
"It's fine, Linc," she said, using his nickname. "You're a good guy for caring so much. It's a rarity sometimes in this day and age." She gave him a reassuring smile as she turned towards the house.
That little gesture was enough to calm Lincoln down. He remembered that he could be overbearing with his 'overcaring' sometimes, which some people might find either obsessive or make others feel too weak to do something simple. He blamed it on his original big brother instincts that went on to his rescuer side—caring for someone in need helped establish the trust or bond that helped them carry through the situation. Ronnie used to poke at him a lot whenever they visited schools, and anyone who talked about their fears of the weather, he would be right there to listen and give advice.
Those were the days…
They were in the past now. And the future was coming every second, no matter how long he thought about it. Shutting the door back until he heard the lock engage, he leaned forward, sighing as he mentally prepared himself for the journey ahead.
"You coming?" he heard Sam shout from the house. Looking up, he saw her standing by the open front door.
"Huh?" he said out loud for her to hear.
"Lincoln," she said somewhat sternly like she was trying to put on a hardened but joking look as she returned, "You're in no shape to go anywhere. I know road fatigue; I've had it before when we had to go from city to city during back-to-back shows. I don't doubt your ability to drive across states in a day, but I know that you really don't want to. I can see it in your eyes; it's just how tired you are. Plus, take this as a way of me trying to repay you for helping me. I'm not much of a cook, but I'm sure a good home meal would be better than any gas station food."
Leaning against his mirror, Lincoln listened and thought it over. He needed to get back on the road. He had a long list of things he needed to do once he got back to El Reno. The sooner he could begin figuratively and literally fabricating his plans, the better.
… but the offer was just too enticing.
The truck was still a mess inside and out. He was wearing his last pair of clothes and needed to ensure all his gear was still in working order. It wouldn't help if thousands of dollars of camera equipment were destroyed. It'd give him a chance to actually get out of the tank and somewhere more comfortable to check and maybe upload the footage later.
El Reno wasn't going anywhere. Clyde knew he wouldn't be back until maybe late tomorrow, and if he did spend the night sleeping on the couch or a blow-up mattress, it would be several levels above just sleeping in the truck. That stuff at Starbucks was a vast upgrade over what he'd had for the last two days, and having something that was actually home-style made the stomach rumble in joy at the thought of real food.
Two sides debated, but one made its voice known first. "Alright, just let me get my stuff. I've got a load or two to go…" he muttered. He quickly went over everything he would need to take out.
"I'll go get some towels then," Sam said as she disappeared inside. Nodding as she went to do her own thing, Lincoln slowly made his way back around, pondering over if he should do this.
Despite the hell of being thrown in her car by a twister and nearly drowning with it, Sam had been handling it pretty well so far. He had seen plenty of people with their mentality on a cliff edge as if there was a landmine with every step they took. It surprised and confused him to the end of not wanting to poke the topic, but his curiosity was cooking.
When he returned to the driver's side, he saw the keys still in the ignition. The motor was running, and all he'd have to do was either let the tank roll back in reverse or be a bit more of a prick and drive through the grass and use the neighbor's driveway to exit. He'd be rolling down the street by the time she realized…
'No, Lincoln… Not this time.'
Another sigh escaped his lips as he hopped in and snatched them out. Clipping them to his belt as he reached to close the roof hatch. Triggering the turret hatch to snap shut, he started gathering his cameras and laptop and 'tossing' them into the back. Pulling his door shut until its lock engaged, he crawled into the back. He pushed the items along until he stopped to snatch his medicine bag from the box and quickly stashed it into his duffel bag and the computer.
Shoving everything towards the back door, he eyed where his medical kit used to be for a second before grabbing the bag/case that contained his main camera. Splitting it open to check that he had everything accounted for, he kicked open the door to quickly slide out, pulling everything with him before it slammed shut.
The total weight of what he had nearly sent him crashing to the ground. He had to ask himself if his camera had gotten heavier or if he had really gotten weaker as he pulled the shoulder strap over. Leaning out enough as the rear door slammed shut behind him, he brought his other bag to overlap on top and, with a bit of an awkward walk, made his way to the house.
Coming up to the front step, he paused. Looking around the house, he could picture one of two scenarios playing out right in front of him.
He was walking up to the farm after either a bust day or an active period of chasing that they had finally gotten a break from to return home. Unpack everything as the truck sat in slumber, unwinded and have a fresh meal, and slept in his own bed again. He could imagine seeing Clyde or Rex stopping by his side to check up on him like the friends they were. He'd tell them he was just happy to be back home.
But simultaneously, he looked away from them; he wasn't standing back at the farm or even Sam's house. It was his house—the family home he hadn't seen in years until yesterday.
Lincoln looked back over his shoulder opposite where he saw Clyde, looking back to where Storm Shrieker stood. In its place, instead, was his Forerunner parked by the curb. Ronnie pulled down the tailgate after grabbing her bags, with another vehicle behind them. Bobby and his daughter came up and spoke something before the three made their way towards him.
Looking at the house, he could hear the commotion inside—that good old Loud House brand of chaos that 12 family members could bring to such a tiny home. There was a brief pause in what sounded like a celebration, someone calling his name before the mass of siblings came out the door.
"Lincoln!"
At first, he thought he saw Luna or Lori, but that image faded faster than cotton candy in water. From what were surprised faces full of shock and joy, they merged into one with teal hair and a braced arm standing in the doorway looking at him confused.
"Are you okay? You look like you got lost there," she said, stepping out a little in case something happened. The image of the family home slowly faded into the house he saw now. The wet gray replaced the sunny atmosphere as he felt a big droplet of rain tickle his ear.
"Yeah…" he said, adjusting his bags, "Just… daydreaming is all." Feeling a few more drops hit him, he made a hasty dash to the house.
Upon entering, he could feel the sudden change. The place seemed lukewarm at best, like you had the heat on but kept a window or two cracked to get airflow through the house. Yet, stepping into a little tile section surrounded by shoes with a coat rack on the side, he deposited his bags to give enough space to shut the door.
Looking around, he noticed that the living room was oddly bare bones compared to what he expected someone like Sam to have as decorations. The walls were slightly gray, with stained wood edging along the floor and dark green carpet. A giant brown sofa took up the bulk of the living room from where the front windows were and curved towards the dining room with a small glass table at the center to an entertainment stand.
Around a 50-inch flatscreen was what he was expecting. Two guitars hung from the wall on either side, one with a gold and purple color scheme and the other an almost fiery orange with black and red swirling with the Moon Goats logo like it was burned into the material. Both were backlit by a soft blue turquoise that spread around the television to thin white shelves holding some items like speakers and pictures. Lining the wall to the kitchen were posters from various bands, from the classics like Elvis and Rolling Stones to Smooch and McSwagger and the Moon Goats, with one or two he didn't recognize.
The room was divided by an archway that cut the dining room in two, only occupied by a table set big enough for only two, and beyond that into a full kitchen that looked a lot more brand new with all the stained cabinets but had bits of scattered dishes and boxes that Sam was hastily trying to clean up.
Come to think of it, the place was in that weird twilight zone where it was both messy and clean simultaneously. If you really started looking, you'd indeed find clutter, but in the grand scheme, it didn't look out of place of what it was.
Hearing the front door slam shut, Sam nearly dropped the handful of plates she had in hand into the sink. Cursing under her breath at how she was afraid they might have broken in her rush and lack of functional arm.
"You okay in there?" Lincoln asked, moving his bags behind the couch and out of the way for now.
"Yep!" Sam quickly answered, trying to move dishes around and failing to remember every half minute that trying to grab them with her right arm kept getting in the way, "Just- just forgot that I had things to do when I got home yesterday." Trying to shift the rebuild pile to her left to be cleared, her hand gripped what felt like a grim plate that slipped out from her fingers in her confusion and realization.
Lincoln covered the distance between them before she could curse at the loss and mess, snatching the dish inches from the ground in a death grip.
"Remember what they said; take it easy for now." he said, placing the dish back on the counter, "It's not often anyone who's never had a broken limb before remembers what life is like without it." Without a word, he began to shift through the dishes. He was looking over the mess from slightly dirty to needing a good soak and scrub.
Unconsciously pushing Sam aside, he plucked a few stragglers from the sink and switched on the hot water. Pouring in a generous blob of soap as he grabbed a sponge, he dropped some of the worse contenders in to soak as he started scrubbing away some of the easier items. He got three plates in before Sam leaned around, looking at his work.
"... what are you doing?"
Prepared with an answer, Lincoln suddenly stopped. Realizing what he was doing, he placed the plate he had away. Looking around the sink and counter like he hadn't seen where he was before turning towards Sam.
"I… sorry." he mutters, shutting the water off, closing his eyes, and looking down to the sink, "I'm… just so used to dealing with something like this it's a bit of instinct at this point. Kinda blame it on all the times I was on dish duty growing up…" He takes the nearest towel to dry his hands and retreats to the living room. Grabbing his bags, he tossed them around to the couch, digging for his equipment to start the uploading and cleaning.
He placed his laptop on the coffee table, lifting his camera free from the bag as it fell to the floor. He popped it onto the couch beside him, pulling away numerous cords that he got up to plug in the nearest outlet and linked between his devices. The screen on his camera immediately flashed to life upon receiving direct power, running through a reboot and update as it began transferring data.
Perplexed by his sudden takeover of her living room and focusing on something other than her mess, Sam came in, taking the seat to his left. "I gotta ask. I know people like to use phones, GoPros, and some special camera, but what's with the giant movie set?"
"It's a bit technical." Lincoln answered, "It's part of the question people ask me, 'Why does my tank need a turret on it?' since a lot of the vehicles like it in the past had them because they were used for making movies. I'm not making a disaster thriller or documentary, but many movies and shows like to use it as B-roll footage. Sometimes, they find taking the existing footage easier than making something from CGI from scratch. Other times, I have so much of it they can build whole two-hour-long documentaries to talk over, and I get paid all the royalties that come with all my footage being used."
He looked back at Sam, seeing her eyes wide and confused. He was probably expecting something short and straightforward, not a full-on paragraph explaining why he had a camera rig so complex for what he does.
"You weren't kidding when you said it was technical." she quipped—trying to get a full wrap-around of his meaning. "So, like, other movies used the stuff you filmed? Were you in that new Twister movie last year?"
Lincoln let out a loud sarcastic 'HA,' breaking into a little laughter as he shook his head, "God, I wish I was. The year before that, they had put out a call for any chasers to help act as background characters. Given my early success, we got an invite but were asked not to involve Shrieker since it would be a takeaway from what they had planned in the movie. Because they were filming during the active season, I was on the road too much to be part of it, and they already had an experienced chaser getting footage for them."
"Did you like it?"
Lincoln thought briefly, "It could do with a little less country music. It's definitely missing that rock element the original had built in to get the blood flowing. Much of it was a bit closer to what it's like out in the field, though I question if they modeled the one main character after how I drive into storms." He chuckled, watching as the transfer was complete and the laptop had enough charge. He felt a headache starting to spring up, knowing that this was just one of a dozen-plus units he'd have to edit hours of footage. "One or two songs I know I'd be willing to blast on the sound system in public. But that's just me."
Thinking over some songs, he would listen to on repeat when driving. However, there was one song he felt resonated with him the most each time he heard it. Even just thinking of the lyrics, he could imagine each moment in his life so far that matched it.
He's not afraid of the power in storms, yet you can't say you're not. He might have gotten knocked down but returned and will stand his ground. He prays for that day that he could have peace… but that every day he goes out there, he can't get enough thrill even if he does keep chasing that same old devil down that same old highway…
Sam was confused by the range of emotions that flashed across Lincoln's face. She wasn't sure if he was falling into another bout of bad memories or reflecting on good ones. A frown became a smile, and his eyes went from relaxed to hard-focused to saddened. It was so rapid-fire that she felt like she missed something in between.
She was, though, a bit optimistic. It was easier than she thought to get him talking at all. Steering it a little more into his job life made him brighten up a little. She could see the tiniest of hints that he wanted to smile the more he explained something like he was ready to unleash so much pent-up experience, like a little child wanting to speak about their favorite toy or character to anyone who would listen.
But something else was there—the way he practically shut down at the mention of his family—like air leaving chokes out a fire that flame of his dimmed. She knew from Luna that they had drifted apart over time, but he always was connected. Yet, during the show visits, she remembered them barely interacting as they had before.
Then there was the fiasco that happened after he left Royal Woods…
Sam had to be honest; she was very disappointed in Luna for letting that day slip. During one of their breaks, they were on a 'girl's day out' and visited family. They got delayed by a day because Luna wanted to try to get the last of some rare merchandise. They hauled it to cover the distance but were still four hours late.
She only found out later when they visited Luna's parents; it was like a sad house. Her parents were livid and disappointed, while two siblings, Lucy and Lisa, if she remembered right, were outright pissed. Their sisters were crying, seething, and pointing fingers at each other, blaming one another for forgetting or being late. Sam remembered asking the Louds where Lincoln had gone; their only answer was Oklahoma.
That night, she berated Luna on how stupid it was to try to get what, at the time, seemed an epic piece of music history at any cost for something that was probably collecting dust somewhere after these years. Luna was understandably devastated, and Sam, despite being a driving force for that cause, couldn't stand her girl hurting and comforted her.
There was that hope that with them touring out in the Midwest, there was always a chance they'd cross paths. That gave her something to look forward to in the future when they were growing and rocking. He just needed time to adjust to a new way of life like they all did when leaving home. Luna took some time to accept this, given they could not reach him, but he could go to them at shows; she looked forward to those interactions as much, if not more, than the actual concerts.
Come to think of it… something was off about their interactions. Like, really off.
She couldn't remember when the two were left alone in the same room. Luna acted more like a fifth wheel when they and the whole band were present. The first time they did interact was when she bawled her eyes out and apologized for not being there. Maybe the only time the two were left alone was an hour before Lincoln had to get rolling. After that, it just barely happened. She honestly spent more time with him afterward than Luna, and it wasn't from a lack of trying.
Lincoln just… kept his distance. He barely said a word to her aside from the repeated questions about how the others were. He seemed so removed when talking to her that if he switched to anyone else, he perked back up again. It ate away at her until she had an accident, and from there, things just drifted apart so much that she didn't know everything that happened afterward.
She knew Luna got better and got back into making music, but that was as far as she saw, aside from seeing what new work she posted online.
She really needed to call her.
Not just from not having heard from her almost all year but to figure this out. Just from the corner of her eye, Lincoln was practically engrossed in his work. Going from wiping away parts to watching the screen and quickly typing something in for it to flash a reflection in his eyes. He was in the kind of zone she had been part of before. While he edited footage, she was used to the grind of having to take their raw recordings and build them into something they all agreed would sound the best and see if the masses would like what they had made.
It gave her time, and it gave them both time. She needed time to process what the last 24 hours had brought to her and what mystery surrounded her friend. Lincoln was trying to keep himself busy as it was. If it was to keep himself occupied here or the need to get work done, she understood. He probably had a long day like yesterday, and this was maybe his way of relaxing. They both could relax right now. Detox and wait a little before she started asking anything that she had to be specific about.
They had time…
Until then, she thought of everything she could and needed to get done. Any big stuff can be a problem for tomorrow.
"Well, I'm going to see what I have left for food. I might have leftovers, but I can try to whip up something." Sam said, standing up and stretching as she tried to think over what she had left while heading to her room for a fresh change.
"Maybe I can help with that later," Lincoln called out. Looking over her shoulder, Sam didn't see him turn to look, only hearing his typing stop briefly. "If you need anything…"
Sam smiled a little at the gesture. She shook her head at how, even now, he was still ready to lend a hand even when he was supposed to be relaxing. "Thanks for the offer, Link. Even with both arms, I might not be like Sully, but I know plenty enough not to burn the place down."
"Gotcha." He answered quickly like he was embarrassed. Shying away as he resumed his work.
With a sigh, Sam headed for her room. Passing the bathroom, a guest room that had become her personal studio, and then to the last door that smelled like dry rain with clutter blown everywhere. Cursing to herself at the memory she had left the window open to let her room air out while she was out, she hurried over and almost smashed it shut. Huffing as she picked up anything within reach and tossed it onto her vanity before stepping back to fall onto her bed.
Feeling the cold covers faintly get through the jacket, she blew a loose strain of her teal hair away. Staring up at the ceiling, she looked over the weird pattern it was made of. Finding one that looked like a little swirl, she focused on it until her mind felt like it was trying to spin with it.
This day had been exhausting enough, and part of her was ready to shut the blinds and go to bed right there. Just curl up on the covers and stay zipped up in this jacket…
Just a four-year age difference, and he had outgrown her. Remembering all the times she remembered him as a 'little bro' once he got to eye level and beyond, that nickname didn't hold anymore. She wondered how tall he had gotten compared to Luna, Leni, and Lori. With how much room she had in this jacket, he had to have been more bulked up before. Even with her cast filling in one arm, just snaking her good arm inside and hugging her bare stomach, she could feel the warmth inside like she was wrapped in her favorite blanket.
One that smelled just like…
She bolted upright. She quickly got her arm back through to get the zipper down and free her cast. Like a cat trapped with a blasting bag until she was free and dropped it back on the bed as she stood a few feet away. Catching her blush in her full mirror with shredded pants and a bra did little to help the mental picture go away.
She had the natural body that a rock star would want. She was not pale like she hadn't seen sunlight in years, her hair just barely past her shoulders, and she took care of it well enough. The cast was an eyesore, yet looking around to see what other marks she had, there was some spotty bruising and faint redness from scrapes—lifting away her bangs to see the cut on her forehead still a bit red but thankfully healing over. Turning to get a quick look on the backside, it wasn't any different than the giant tattoo on her left side that looked like a cross of an angel and demon wing was breaking through her skin.
She flashed a grin to her reflection, striking a pose she knew would get any young man or late teen close by riled up. An idea for a prank on her guest formed, but thinking over who her guest was, she quickly shut it down.
Maybe one day, but not today.
Looking away from the mirror, she went to her dresser for a clean set of clothes and dashed to her bathroom for a much-wanted shower.
Back in the living room, Lincoln paused again when he heard what sounded like the bedroom door shutting. He counted about 24 seconds in his head before looking at the way Sam had gone. The hallway was darker than before, without sunlight, and left little to see away from his current position.
Turning back to his computer, the 'brave face' he had on until he heard the door shut fell away.
Pushing the laptop to the other side, he slumped forward. His head was low, his hands combing through his hair, his eyes tight, and he took deep breaths. Dashing away, dark clouds darkened behind his eyes as he felt sunspots pop in and out from looking back up at his screen, which felt like it had gotten ten times brighter than when he last saw it.
Since getting here, he has started opening the programs and downloading the footage. Thankful that with how much there was, he'd mostly save it to the servers back home for later and just snip out things that wouldn't be useful. He didn't dare touch the data logger from the radar; Erin would probably be chewing on that through Christmas, given that he had partially gotten an active data set from another EF5-level storm.
But what were the odds it had gone that far? He knew it wasn't just a stroke of luck. He was at that spot when it crossed the road. It was dying out and reforming so quickly, as if the storm was readjusting. It was going more eastward, then suddenly went more northward. It could have spun up again during its rope-out stage and directly impacted him. All the cars and trucks on the road behind him could have gone airborne just as quickly as Sam had, yet the storm kept going.
Arthor went as planned, though his timing judgment was off from how it developed. Cross Plains was just a coincidence; the storm complex, having a struggling rotation hidden inside, could have fooled and ambushed anyone on the road. All those people hiding under the overpass were stupid to do so, but they knew how to stop and wait for the storm to pass. Had that mile-wide ghost been as strong as Nashville, he was sure all those people would have died from the wind tunnel effect.
And then Nashville itself… He hadn't read through the entire article, but it did point to two more tornadoes touching down in the city before the bigger one. They were mostly funnel-less masses of rain and wind, EF0 and 1. Some say they saw funnel clouds last night during the lightning show, but no further reports of additional tracks were found.
That third tornado out of both sets didn't feel natural at all…
It didn't just stop where it did to reorganize itself or ask for directions. It saw who was there and made itself a true force of destruction so unimaginable you couldn't think it existed in front of your eyes…
Reaching for his duffle bag, sifting through the clothes he still had on hand, he pulled out his medicine bag. Popping open six different pill bottles and sprinkling one per except two from one, he'd prefer something to wash it all down, but he didn't care. Even one being like a giant 'horse pill,' he tossed it back and swallowed. Wincing each time and checking how much he had left, he'd need a refill soon but could finally quit taking them after Christmas.
The feeling of it hitting his gut was almost immediate. At best, an hour since he ate, he felt like the pills were pebbles being dropped into a deep iron pot, echoing off his stomach walls. It was an odd feeling he had grown accustomed to for months, one he hoped would disappear soon enough.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he pulled the laptop back to his side. Switching programs to the internet and searching for past and active storm reports, he quickly flooded his screen with hundreds of entries: pictures and videos of dozens of funnels and floods, memes, and tweets with repeated articles about events happening locally, regionally, and nationally.
Searching currently active reports and conditions, yesterday's high risk moved further into the Ohio River Valley as a more negligible moderate risk in southern Ohio and eastern Kentucky. A separate Enhanced risk extended from the east end of Tennessee into Virginia and North Carolina, focusing more on heavy rain and high winds than tornadoes. Though 33 tornadoes had been confirmed so far, most in the moderate zone and a half dozen in the Carolinas, many reports were coming in as flash flooding.
Sitting back, Lincoln ran a hand over his eyes, propping his head up as he clicked on a video of a town somewhere east as a four-lane bridge collapsed into a raging river. Shaking his head, he watched another video of a tornado in Ohio. A long, slender elephant trunk came out of the storm sideways with the hail core behind it, giving a bluish glow around the cloud base. The tag said B&B Storm Chasing, and two familiar faces appeared in a slideshow, standing in front of the storm with big smiles.
They got a good score today, and he congratulated them through his mind's eye.
Though he wished he was on that storm too…
Clearing out the search, he typed in reports from only yesterday. News articles from every major city, from Detroit to Little Rock, had a story to tell. Weather reports themselves clocked in over 81 confirmed tornado reports. Many of them were in back-to-back paths of weaker tornadoes spawned one after another from the same storm. One in particular that survived from Missouri into Kentucky managed to put down seven yesterday and two more after midnight. At least 30 towns and four major cities were declared disaster zones, and Indianapolis had the National Guard deployed for flood rescues. A brush fire, of all things, had broken out near Lexington from power lines catching dead grass and the endless stream of damage totals coming in.
He knew the Foundation was going to be very busy this week. Operations down on the coast would probably last into December, with some freed-up forces moving northward. He knew clean-up and recovery were underway to get the city moving again. The Red Cross was already trickling in resources with the National Guard, and soon, at least from what he had been told, his forces would be here in two days.
He'd be gone by then, but he'd keep an eye on all the efforts. Alone, he didn't have the power or resources to do anything more than he already had.
Searching through more storm reports, he slowly began scrolling through every documented tornado. It started out with simple EF0s and 1s causing tree damage, destroying farm buildings, ripping off roofs, and sending debris into cars. A bunch of EFUs mixed with them, sitting at best tearing up grass and crops or in unreachable spots.
Soon, the EF2s and 3s popped in. They were a bit more concentrated on storms that had a history or were the first in line. Damage and casualty totals began to grow in numbers. One of the confirmed EF4s was the widest tornado so far, at 1.6 miles, that cut through half of Paducah, Kentucky. One of the longer-lived storms that underwent recycling above town crossed into Illinois and dropped full size, nearly eating the community of Unionville and devouring 32 miles of forests and farms when it got back into Kentucky.
Another EF4 was reported near Iuka, Mississippi, tearing through the state forest and destroying the communities of Eastport and Waterloo. Like the other significant tornadoes, it had its own separate article, yet its image was of a stout stovepipe-like funnel taken across the river from Waterloo as it was tearing apart Eastport. The absence of rain heavily contrasted the storm with the sunlight in the distance, making it a bit hard to distinguish details.
Yet another photo, taken from Iuka facing north after the storm had passed, showed a completely different view. It showed just how low the mesocyclone was to the land but displayed a beautiful sun-baked textbook updraft extending into the heavens. White puffy clouds became smooth and rounded, as opposed to the dark monster that churned underneath them.
That looked like a storm Lincoln would have loved to be on. There was a minimum chance of intercepting it due to the river restricting northeast options. However, just sitting north of Iuka could have been an incredible opportunity for time-lapse and still photography of the lone storm without real competition for resources to keep healthy and organized. He wouldn't have made it today; by the time he was waiting on the Arthur storm, it was already in progress, but what an event it would have been for the books…
And then came the 'Nashville Tornado Sequence' section. A lot more detail for the two smaller tornadoes that happened earlier, but it went to its own site describing everything during the event. It's own photo from when it was carving through the north side of downtown with details of the track, touchdown, and lift times, damage in select areas, and the debate on whether it was actually two tornadoes given its recycling. A section further down detailed the Storm's path before and after Nashville but remained incomplete.
Scrolling back up to the synopsis, his earlier thoughts were confirmed partially true as it was given "Preliminary EF5" with the damage survey ongoing. Two parts amused him; one was of detected velocity over 270 by the local NWS, and another of his report to Erin about the ground speeds. It'll be a few days, but he was optimistic it would earn that rating. It was the third in a year when nature had finally broken a 12-year drought and was making up for lost time.
But the statistics made any little semblance of pride in capturing the beasts dwindle. If it gets the 5 rating or not, 2,300 plus reported injuries were deplorable, with 22 deaths so far. That's 22 lives that did nothing wrong. 22 that could have been anywhere at any time, but destiny had led to them being in the path of a killer.
There were billions of people in the world, more that know you than you know them, but Lincoln knew that among them, whenever the day came for him, there would be someone to greet him at the gates, one possibly from that day...
Skimming through the page, he noticed that much info was still missing and being updated every few minutes. A quick refresh: The section had become divided between the various parts of the hit to Hendersonville and beyond. Going back to the main chart, it noted missing information in regards to the tornado after it, another EF2 that the Iuka storm spawned later on, five more EFUs, and then, much to his surprise, two more violent tornadoes were recorded, and both holding a high-end EF4 to EF5 rank. Only by looking back to past years, like 2011, did he see times when multiple tornadoes were given preliminary EF5. Nashville was the biggest one anyone could solidify with the damage and data; yet another came from Evansville, Indiana.
It was a much smaller storm than Nashville, big enough to touch both sides of the Ohio River. It only traveled about eight miles until it dissipated on the adjacent peninsula. Damage wasn't as widespread, but the actual show was what it did to a train yard. Rows and rows of cars almost a mile long, each pushed off the rails or their cargo scattered to the river. The high rating was because a line of four locomotives coupled together had been rolled. It was shocking to see a car easily roll over, let alone think how it was possible for the wind to flip over a million pounds of metal. Yet people point out that it was from getting hit by debris that made the trains roll, pointing to possibly a weaker tornado.
And there was the third tornado. Time-stamped almost exactly at the same time that Nashville was in progress, 22 miles covered in just 30 minutes at a max width of .62 miles with the photo of an ugly wedge in the distance shrouded in the rain with a town in the foreground. It was a sight that anyone would hope wasn't true. The casualties listed zero dead, yet a couple of dozen-plus injuries. One could only pray it stayed where it was and not climb higher.
Yet, as Lincoln looked over the small info panel describing the event, he felt like his vision was starting to fail and opening them wide, trying to keep one open when the other felt like it was burning from the light and you had to switch back and forth to see your own hands vaguely. The words on the computer became too blurred for him to make out just the letters. The brightness grew so much that he rubbed his eyes; they couldn't stop burning with darkness creeping in from the edges.
He quickly stood up, his nerves burning like he was drenched in ice water. He gripped the coffee table as tightly as possible, his balance becoming unstable like a bridge swinging in the wind. His heart was beating like a battery surging too much energy for it to control and threatened to pop from the inside.
Whispering to himself that it wasn't real, he forced his eyes open to reread just the first sentence.
"Northville-Oak Park-Royal Woods, Michigan. Preliminary: EF5"
(Note: These AN notes are written before, during, and afterhand to convey my thinking. Not based on what's changed, reviews, etc., and is borderline me ranting out loud my way of thinking.)
So, this chapter was delayed in that I wanted to take a break from writing Lincoln's side and get to work on future parts of this story. This AN itself was being written minutes after I had just finished Chapter 30 on Aug 5th at 12:30 at night, and I was in a bit of a creative drive. In part, I was getting some burnout from the last chapter and opted to break it in half, thus from the last chapter being delayed in favor of working ahead on the next two forward chapters that would focus on the Sisters again.
In some kind of way, this also was the first chapter for me to start including some points of reference to Twisters, as at the time of this chapter being written, I haven't seen it yet sadly, but know enough points to get the story. Surprisingly some parts match up to what this story has in terms of situations and world-building, as Lincoln said, before Kingman he was like how Tyler Owens was in that movie and eventually evolved from there.
However, at the same time, I was in heavy debate about how this chapter was to be built. I knew by the ending it would officially mark the 'end' of what could be called the 'first arch' (or the Year 2025 for a name) and that the next chapters would be the official beginnings of Year 2026. During the early stages of writing this, I had spent a whole night combing through all ideas, preplanned chapters and outlines I had gotten for this story so far in the attempt to build where the timeline is heading.
With this chapter, I felt like splitting it by the end and basically shifting Chapter 29 (which has now become #30) forward, as it was already completed. I had posted this one as the 20-day benchmark for chapters upon publishing. Chapter 29 is expected to be out by either as early as the end of this month or the first week of September, as I'm going straight ahead from this chapter into it and then jumping over to continue with #31. From this chapter, I have about 19 more I want to get done before the year is out. On top of that, I have an estimated 80 MORE chapters in the pipeline. Some a lot more along than others, some a bit simple in their scope and others individual parts of a situation that are all bound to be combined and broken up. Everything is mostly in line to Chapter 66 for events, after that it becomes a bit messy in terms of planning that far.
On a little technical weather note: the usage of 'EFU' and 'Preliminary EF' is more in part that with an outbreak of this scale and storms touching down all over the place, EF 'Unknown' is used for tornadoes that are confirmed but haven't been rated yet or can't be rated because they happened in a place with no damage down or can't be accessed to. 'Preliminary EF' is for twisters actively being rated but not yet locked, and it's believed that this is the rating so far found with the chance of something confirming, downgrading, or upgrading to a stronger rating.
(Note: These AN notes are written before, during, and afterhand to convey my thinking. Not based on what's changed, reviews, etc., and is borderline me ranting out loud my way of thinking.)