OKLAHOMA

May 1st, 2027

"Mom, this house is like a mausoleum," green irises unfocused, staring at the many photographs that lined the antique furniture. Perhaps comfort would have been found there if it hadn't been for how nothing changed. Dust gathered disproportionately along the frames that now stifled her childhood bedroom. The peak of her fingertip grazed over grey, coating the print in absent days.

See, it was all rather… tempestuous ; a word Cassie learned in the ninth grade after submitting a PowerPoint on social economics. Most of the other students expected her to present a show and tell of the local talk point that never quite seemed to dwell: Dorothy! New invention has the potential to save the lives of hundreds! Well, all but one.

Mrs. Deaberman graded the intensely researched effort with a B minus and stated it as being "lower than expected." So, it appeared that even the faculty had a hard-on for local weather fame. Comparatively, the guidance counsellor simply offered advice of "write what you know", as if creativity held any station in advanced placement courses. There was thinking with your brain, then there was delving with your heart. The latter trait? Tempestuous .

And Cassie, now talking to herself in a room with purple walls and posters of horses, sighed. Oklahoma smelt of dew, and rain, and mud, and wood. San Francisco, on the other hand? Pollution and warm pavement. Success, if such a word could exude a smell. Money, maybe?

The cell phone that rang atop daisy-ridden bed sheets brought disillusioned eyes to refocus. She blinked, hand absentmindedly reaching out to snatch the iPhone without checking the Caller ID in hopes that rescue would be sitting on the other end, offering a 401K and stable IRA matching.

"Hello? This is Cassandra." Cassie breathed out, fingers flexing to grip the case tighter in consideration of the potential for being clumsy and dropping the chance at salvation.

"Cassie?" A male voice sounded on the other end, obviously tentative.

Cassie? No one in San Francisco called her Cassie. "Uh… yeah?" She responded with an eyebrow now peaked in confusion, combined with the internal pressure to hang up and throw the phone across the room into a pile of gasoline and light it up.

"It's Javi!" The sound of a slight pause and the two didn't speak, then he continued. "Javi Rivera."

Oh.

Cassandra blinked momentarily. "Hey… Javi. What's going…on?" Awkward quiet occurred between the words as she struggled to fill the random conversation.

"Not a lot. Your mom told me you were back in town," Javier spoke back.

"Yeah, for a little while." She responded, switching the phone to her other ear.

"For a little while?" Javi questioned. That wasn't what Jo led him to believe, and it certainly hadn't been an assumption.

"Well, I don't know how long. You know… the uh… employment rate this year… and…" Cassandra used the nondescript words as an out.

"Your mom said something about that." He grew more comfortable, settling into the oncoming conversation. "Listen, that's why I'm calling. I know we haven't talked in a while, but we have a group and I was thinking that maybe you could-"

Cassandra shot upright, taking a few steps around her room in quick succession. Facebook updates kept her somewhat aware of the happenings in her hometown. She could recall a series of YouTube videos plastered across the social media site with Javi's face in the thumbnail. "Oh… That's… nice of you to offer, Javi, but I'm still out of the field." Beads of familiarity slipped into the discussion. His voice was still the same, potentially a tad deeper.

"Well… what if it was just with me?" He prodded. "Could use the big city knowledge, Cass. It's been a long time."

Yeah.

It had been a long time. Frankly, astonishing that he remained out and on the field after what happened to Addy, Jeb, and Praveen. The wind in Oklahoma took bodies with it.

"I can't, Ja-" Cassandra began, then got cut off.

"The storms are getting worse," Javi sighed on the other side. "The past two years… We need all the help we can get. I know that you just got back and I'm asking a lot. Maybe think about it for a while?"

"Just you and I, Cassie. Only you and me. For old times' sake." Finality entered his voice, and he quieted down on the other end of the line.

Cassandra, sensing that he needed to hear a specific answer from her, relented with a nod. "Yeah, okay. I'll let you know." She glanced around the room, hand running through dirty blonde locks and snagging at new tangles. "But no crew. Ever."

The call went stale after that. To Cassandra, all that needed to be spoken- had been. Despite the conclusion the outcome felt sealed.

Ding.

Data

Tomorrow we're meeting at the Flying J in Ardmore around noon.

We have data. We need help.

The texts that sat in wait across her screen shredded into a sense of guilt. The minutes ticked by without a resounding approval. The unfortunate condition of being human? Connection. His old title stood out amongst a sea of unsaved contacts. Javier tugged at the past and relied on their diminishing circumstances to breed inner questioning.

And damn if it didn't work.

She teetered on the edge. Political leanings aside, scenarios proved to be worsening. In all of her time performing implementation and risk assessment, nothing compared to 2026. Just over two years left on the Climate Clock. Silent action wasn't action at all.

The sound of incoming begging rang once again.

Data

The storms aren't going to get better.

Only if it's us.

Data

Only us, promise.

In the kitchen below, Jo stood in front of the sink. Yellow curtains were pulled back to reveal a sunny day. Clouds in the distance held no indication of turning. The mountain range at the back of the acreage created a painted landscape of beauty. Her second cup of coffee steamed pleasantly against her chin before the mug found its way between her lips and a deep sigh sounded.

The warmth seeped life into her throat.

Reba Mcentire played lightly from the radio stationed on the countertop. The smell of dissipated bacon and eggs still radiated from the stove fan. "She still doesn't get up early on weekends," Jo smirked and took another sip. "Thought that was just for teenagers." These days, the Harding patriarch talked to herself more often than not. Once upon a time people from town came in droves to ask questions. The odd journalist would reach out for an interview, even. Yes, her younger self had a well deserved fifteen minutes of fame. The day that Dorothy floated in the air everything changed. For the first few years people would cheer when they entered towns. But, eventually all good things do come to an end.

For the major part of a decade, she was left alone in a large house on the land where her husband died. Losing her daughter acted as the last nail in the coffin of age, though Jo entered that nomination gracefully.

And it wasn't as though Cassie never reached out. Although, having Christmas in San Francisco did grow tiresome over the years.

Being alone had initially taken its toll. Old friends aged and passed away. Her connections grew their lives in love, producing their own families and some moved away. She still kept in touch with a few. Days upon days just got in the way.

It took until her 60's to enjoy the time. Her earlier brand of recklessness and impulsivity gave way to the changing of tides. Now the weeks and years passed with ease and calm. The back porch greeted her in the mornings with a chair, the TV in evenings. Every second or third night she called her daughter to keep the relationship intact.

When Jo originally made the proposition of Cassie coming back home, she was met with a tentative no. As if her daughter felt guilty leaving her aging mother with no nearby family, regardless of the predicament she found herself in. The rejection lasted for two or so months until the financial well ran dry, and again, Jo offered the same love as previous. "Cassie, just come home. Get your wings and then you can get back on your feet and try again."

There was some persuading, of course, but both women were indeed intelligent. They could come to an agreement sometimes. Less than two weeks after - Cassie was back home, the way it always should have been.

"Smells good," Cassandra's voice entered the hallway between the kitchen and the staircase. "Is there any coffee?"

"It's in the pot." Jo replied, swiveling around to meet her daughter as she entered the room. "Breakfast is on the stove."

"Thanks, Mom." Cassandra replied absentmindedly before grabbing a plate with familiar navigation. The coffee was still warm, surprisingly. Considering the time.

"Any news?" The older woman's hand curved further around her cup and hid her intentional fishing with nonchalance.

"Nothing yet." Cassandra spoke, pouring out some coffee for herself. "But… Javier called me."

"Did he?" Jo moved to the faucet and turned on the water, feigning washing the dishes.

"Yep. He said that you told him I was home." The younger Harding took a short bite of bacon with a peaked eyebrow.

"Oh, well I saw him at the Homeland a few days ago and we had a conversation, talked about it a little. Nice that he called you, sweetheart," wrinkled hands wiped a rag into a glass. "And since when do you call him Javier ?"

"Since I graduated high school and grew out of nicknames," Cassandra muttered under her breath, stifling her reply with another chew of bacon.

"The two of you used to be so cute." Jo continued, despite hearing her daughter's usual attitude toward anything emotionally intimate. "Attached at the hip." The taps were turned off as bubbles reached an inch below the brim of the sink. "I remember one day the both of you came trudging into this kitchen soaked in mud. Looked like you walked out of a lagoon."

Cassandra grinned. The memory of lost youth tumbled back into her eyelids. "You grounded me for that."

"For a week. Which turned into two days, because you were a damn persuasive kid." Jo laughed at the thought and shook her head. "Never could stop you from doing what you wanted. You were too much like me."

The kitchen went silent after that. Both women were too afraid to delve further into the unknown. Eventually Cassandra finished her plate and washed it, then put it away.

She joined her mother an hour later outside on the back porch. The sun rested high in the early afternoon sky. Cows grazed grass on the right while chickens pecked away at seeds in their holding.

"Cows need hoovin'." Jo started, staring out at the Oklahoma country. "And the barn has to be reorganized." She rocked back and forth, placing a book down onto her right thigh.

There it was. The hidden fine print of being back home without money. Chores.

"Why are you still even keeping cows, mum?" Cassandra probed. "Merle died four years ago. Give them to another farmer."

"You talk like I'm raising a meat factory." Jo shook her head. "They'll be here 'til they die too. They're… pets." She shrugged and picked her book back up. "And Harding's don't give up on what they love."

"Now go organize that piece 'a shit before I hold an "everything must go" sale." She looked up at her daughter from just below the brim of the pages. "Or I'll call up your old boss and give him a real issue to be worried about."

Cassandra let out a small laugh and crossed the porch in front of her mother. "That's manipulative. I think you're starting to lose it."

"The day I 'lose it' is the day pigs fly. Now get your ass off your mama's porch with your slander." Jo retorted back, watching as Cassie disappeared off of the white steps and into the joining land toward the barn.

Tepid air.

Light spring breeze.

May 2nd.

Painted nails turned in rotation across the old steering wheel. Upon finishing the left exit, Cassandra rested her cheek on half bundle fist, temple landing near the knuckles.

The storms aren't going to get better.

The idea of journeying out already seemed like a bad idea. Meeting him there meant being alone during the car ride, which left a decent chunk of time for thought. Thought turned to beads of regret, and now Cassandra cursed herself for adjusting her moral compass in the name of nostalgia.

Catching the sign of the truck stop, Cassandra pulled in with her eyes widening to the sight that fell ahead. "What… the… fuck…?" The slow surrender of bewilderment fell from strawberry lips to the image of lifted trucks, RVs, and cameras… everywhere .

The pavement looked akin to a frat party. Alpha Sigma Tornado!

People danced, shouted, and kissed. The scene could be described as dystopian, if she weren't so disappointed. Maybe then the proper word would come for descriptive purposes.

A familiar face entered into view at the slow speed of her Ford from high school, the single vehicle she owned half able to be included. Her Hyundai Elantra swayed on good days.

"Cassie!" Javi shouted in greeting, watching as her hair weaved outside of the driver's window. His feet made way to meet her alongside the gasoline pumps. She still looked the same. Aside from some added makeup and highlights. Well, that and a few years of aging.

Cassandra nodded and tentatively climbed out of the old beater, taking a glance around at the setting. "Yeah, Hi Ja-"

He bounded up, wrapping arms around her in a tight hug bred to cross the years of little communication.

"Oh!" Cassandra groaned as he squeezed. "Okay," unexpected, though not necessarily unpleasant. "Tight, really tight, Javi." She coughed out dramatically.

"Oh, shit!" He relaxed and pulled away. "Sorry. Big day!" And the excitement permeated the Ardmore air. People chirped with the speakings of an EF0.

"It's alright." She tapped his back upon his release. "And when did you get the gun show? Those are new." Slender fingers pointed at his biceps in teasing.

"You like 'em?" Javi held a tanned arm out, pointing it up toward the sky in mock emphasis. "I eat a lot of eggs these days. Raw."

"Makes sense. I never understood why people cook them when you can just take the pure protein straight from the chicken." She grinned, albeit in a barely defined way. Her shoulders eased.

"Here - let me introduce you to the crew." Javi's hands rubbed at his jeans, an old coping mechanism for anxiety from childhood.

"What? No, you said it was just us." Cassandra stood straight, taking a step back to her truck.

"Well - they - I mean, it will be us when we're chasing, but…" His hands transitioned to his back pockets to hide the obvious trait of anxiety.

"Javi…" Cassandra groaned, now coming to understand the plan. "No. No crew. No people - or I turn around."

He sighed and exchanged his weight between his feet. "Okay, okay. I'll go talk to them. I might be a few minutes." He turned then, walking off and joining a group of online personalities. She recognized some from the thumbnails of the videos.

After five or so minutes of waiting, she made the choice to walk along the outer edge of the pavement. Aside from the rolling blades of grass across the road from the beat-down Flying J-, nothing felt like home. Things adjusted, she supposed. All earthly givings required adapting. Back in the day, Ardmore was a tiny dot on the map. Now it had grown to a scenic passing. As noted, adaption.

The sound of yelling fans and blaring country music grated into city ears. "God's Country" was, of course, a southern state-certified classic. If she was back in San Francisco, pop would probably play in every establishment known to the urban man. Too bad.

Situated in the perfect center of the crowd - a guy. The cowboy hat, belt buckle, and boots did not indicate a unique personality, yet the sea of people cheered with unambiguous mirth. T-shirts hung from clotheslines with price tags. "If you feel it, Chase it!" Tagline be damned. The cotton blends wavered in the even air.

And cash sang from the hands of admirers.

The parking lot became lost in a sea of branded vehicles. Flashing headlights and cheering instigated goosebumps across arms concealed by a silk indigo blouse that bellowed to the same beat of the aforementioned merchandise.

So yep, she stood out.

Notably, too. Considering she pondered and brooded along the exterior of the pavement. Wide-legged khakis cinched at her waist, tucking in the business casual outfit that rendered her the needle in an amateur hour haystack. The old clothing from previous years at her mother's home remained in the closet, not so much as touched upon re-entering Oklahoma.

Approaching footsteps catching gravel notified that h e was growing closer. The outline of a cowboy hat in spring dirt finalized his incoming and Cassandra's hands fell in front of her stomach, clasping to maintain a distant stance.

"They give you money for that?" Cassandra spoke out, keeping her timbre monotone. The sunglasses that hid green eyes were a blessing, the gateway to witness her scowl. "You must be a fan of Jackass." Man, the people made famous these days. If only her father could see it now! Thank the heavens her mother didn't continue being up to speed, too busy enjoying retirement with a daughter who didn't intend to continue the family business of one twister, two twisters whilst riding around in an early casket.

Tyler's face turned to her, teeth chewing down on gas station beef jerky. Prices went up compared to last spring and were practically highway robbery now. "Well, darlin'," he drawled in thespian amusement. "Some folks pay good money for entertainment, others happen to find it." Her lack of accent pointed to being an outsider and Javier spoke of introducing a ride along. Put one and one together: You get a city woman in a corporate getup with an attitude to spare.

Preferring to keep first impressions humorous, Tyler continued. "What brings the CEO of Banana Republic to…" He grinned with mirth, noting her grimacing micro-expressions to the music. "God's country?"

"I'm here to do what you do, but better," Cassandra noted, features still telling no tale of emotion as his quip and exaggerated cadence took center stage. "And without making it a midnight viewing of The Three Musketeers." Fuck all the cameras. Too many cameras! It was daunting, in a way.

Perhaps it wasn't him. Perhaps it was about the performance, all the internet boasting. He was simply the front face. Though he appeared to quite enjoy the fame. Unattractive.

"Saw one of your videos on YouTube. Fireworks in a tornado… that one really made me tingly." Had the words been spoken in any other way, they could have been mistaken for a flirt. But they weren't, and it was easy to identify the mocking of his flamboyant nature towards disaster. To think that people sat in front of their computers and phones, to spend their limited time in life watching such a show. Mother nature wasn't a scene of a movie, it was a nearby danger. People fucking died, lost their homes, their jobs, their pets…

"Maybe next time you should toss a shark in it." Cassandra nearly let herself grin at that one, referencing the franchise bred out of dumb ideas turned into comedy and suspension of belief. A very comparable metaphor for his… career, before turning a booted heel and beginning to walk back to the gas station. Javier, fuck. Because she needed a job. That was it.

Wait… what? By the time Tyler thought of another witty sentence to entertain, she was five steps away and headed back to a stripped Ford. His longer legs took enhanced movements to catch up. "Hey now," he called out in a light tone. "You don't gotta run off just yet, haven't even told me yer name yet."

"And no sharks, PETA'd have my ass worse than the tornados. Can't get cancelled." The court of public opinion already brewed overhead in his lifestyle. Some things were better left for the movies, even if everything after the second was hot dogshit. "You gonna stand there lookin' all broody, or you gonna tell me what makes you think you can out-chase the best damn storm chaser in Oklahoma?" Another piece of jerky arrived in his mouth, the taste tangy and the texture tough. One finger laced into his belt loop, intrigued by her biting ego.

"Generally, when someone walks away, it means they don't want to talk anymore." Cassandra struck like a viper in the sand, too lost in a clipboard to afford distraction. Like hell, she got laid off! And no wonder. The government kept dwindling resources for disasters. Earthquakes, hurricanes, tornados, climate change! The symptoms of the truth became louder, but the money went elsewhere. Another company would surely take her on, and hopefully nowhere near home.

LOCAL PROMPTING COMES MINUTES TOO LATE.

A newspaper from a few towns over read in a bold headline. Inner passages spoke of destruction.

Not only did an F3 hit a small town, they weren't notified until 7 minutes before it hit.

7 minutes.

Storm radars in 2025 hit unprecedented obstacles. Too many weather irregularities. Their recently elected president, Tom Jordan, did little to assist. Money taken from education was funneled into the military and citizens grew wary of wars across their borders, rather than the war on their growing climate crisis.

Environmental jobs took cuts while technology enhanced. Somewhere along the way, AI took a major threshold within meteorology. Seats that once held human interference, were now controlled by man-made computers that registered as better for profit, cheaper to maintain.

Her department took a swift kick in the nuts. In 2024 they had thirty. By 2025, the number dwindled to 14, by 2026? Cassandra no longer knew. Disaster Implementation Specialist, now rendered to her childhood bedroom lined with forgotten dreams.

The solve? Statewide drones. Wind changes could alert radars, which would release automatic drones to capture footage and enable live notification without human intervention. No bodies, no deaths. At least, that's what Cassandra hoped for in her own planning. Years of hard work - squandered! No job meant no way to fund an experimental test of devices. Back to square one, just like she had been in her younger years.

"I don't chase, I prevent." She noted with a sigh and glanced up, taking her glasses down as cirrus clouds passed by. Moss green eyes hesitated. "If you came for standup, I'm more of a crowd-work kind of comedian." Without turning to look at him, she kept the larger portion of her focus on the clouds. "And explaining the joke kind of makes them… you know… not funny."

Prevent, huh? Sounded like a load of bureaucratic bullshit to him. "You don't chase?" He sounded out, the question elongated from his lips in questioning. He leaned in as though the two had a long-running secret. "What do you do, talk to 'em 'til they dissipate?" This time, his grin took on a much larger, self-confident position. His booted foot hoisted up to rest on the Ford's rusted bumper. The ol' truck barely entered their century, let alone looked proper for chasin'. The junk of metal wouldn't get her far. "Hope you brought a spare, city girl." From the corner of his eye, he took the tires into account, half bald. Best be careful.

His gaze trailed off to join hers, teeth chewing while altocumulus prepped in the sky's background. "Tyler Owens," he stated and removed his hand from his belt to hold it out in greeting.

More cirrus…

Northwest over the mountain horizon. A short accumulation, but dense enough to breed suspicion. "Javier!" Cassandra called out, shoving the clipboard in her truck and weaving past Tyler's hand without a second thought. Frankly, his words fell on deaf ears and Cassandra heard little of anything. "Truck time, let's go!" He wanted her there for a reason. Fucking no way she was going with sir "Tornado Wrangler". The last thing she wanted was to be gaping eye candy for their millions of viewers.

It looked as though her old companion had barely mentioned her to whatever his name was anyway, TJ? Hell, he didn't even seem to know her. What a nasty surprise (that would surely make him feel like a grade-a idiot). Dorothy, created by her parents, changed the tornado tracking system for the better. Then again, Cassandra never exactly boasted about her lineage.

She thrust the door to her pickup open with force and bounced up into the driver's seat, sticking her head out the window with an incredulous look. "Yo, Youtube guy, can you get your fucking boots off my bumper? Who do you think you are? MOVE!" she growled. Who did that? Put their boots on something that didn't belong to them? The truck may have been old, but it sure as Hell wasn't garbage! "Besides, don't you have a job to do?" An eye roll and Cassandra turned to look out the rear window, Ford backing up to meet Javier.

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