AN: I loved Twisters as a summer blockbuster and couldn't stop imagining a Twilight-esque version. :-) please enjoy! As a side note, I'm Canadian and a social scientist, not a tornado scientist. So please take my earth and atmospheric/Oklahoma knowledge at face-value! I'm trying my best, of course!
Chapter 1: Chasing Storms
April 2022
I'm being shaken awake, and the sound of roaring thunder is fading into my ears. I'm in my purple bedroom, and my mom has just come in to wake me up and pull me into the storm shelter. Everything is hazy. The frequent lightning strikes are throwing flashes of light throughout the room; it's absurd, it feels like a stop motion movie. I'm trying to peek through the windows as we race out of the house—I can see my dad outside, trying to force the cellar doors open despite the high winds. His battery powered lantern light is swaying with his jerky arm movements. There's an increasing tendril of dread growing in the pit of my stomach. Something isn't right! The unnatural, grainy emergency alarm siren in town is going off, and somehow you can hear it from all the way out here. I can feel the electricity in the air when we exit the house, and it mingles with the panic flooding my nervous system. The high winds slam our front door shut before mom can close it. She tries to smile at me but her hands are shaking. We make it to the cellar and are halfway down the stairs before mom has to run back in—she's so harebrained, she took the emergency radio out of the shelter to change the batteries and didn't bring it back in. I can hear dad yelling her name by the entrance of the cellar.
"Renee! Get back in here, we can just wait it out! Fuck! Renee! Jesus Christ, there isn't time!"
I've never heard my dad swear before, and something in his voice is making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It's like he already knows she isn't coming back.
I jolt awake. My heart is racing, and it takes a moment for me to realize that I'm in the Airbnb we've been using as our homebase this summer, not my purple childhood bedroom or the old storm cellar. I try to take a deep breath. I'm suddenly hyper aware of the cheap, scratchy low thread count sheets below me. The walls are beige, impersonal. I'm alone.
Storm season has officially begun in Oklahoma. An EF3 tornado touched down yesterday morning, and all of the muscles in my body are aching from sitting in the truck for hours. I partially grew up in Oke, right in Tornado Alley, and I've seen first hand the devastation these storms can cause—families losing everything; homes destroyed and insurance never paid out; FEMA coming in time and time again and offering people a pittance of what their lives were really worth. When I first started working for Dr. Esme Platt to better understand storms and minimize the risks tornadoes can cause, there was hope. Our research made national headlines. The lab was rewarded with a surplus of grants. Now, two years in with little headway and a rapidly heating earth, it's only gotten worse.
Glancing at the alarm clock and realizing with dread it was time to start moving, I take a breather and pull one of the standard issue-lumpy-bleach scented pillows over my head to muffle a groan of frustration. These days, our research in the field is getting more dangerous. Add on the fact that our workload in the lab was getting unmanageable with more frequent storms, and the fact that somehow our tornado-wrangling hypotheses were getting proven wrong—the work was a storm in itself. To make matters worse, the storms always put me on edge a little—I'm never sleeping or eating enough these days. After I finish my moping session (the closest I can come to meditation), I head out to the common area to put on the biggest pot of coffee I possibly can. It's almost time to wake the team up.
Of course, Alice has beaten me to it.
"Jesus, you're up early. How is it that you have so much expendable energy? And… how do you look better than everyone and it hasn't hit 6 AM yet?" I pause to poke her toned arm before bee-lining it to the coffee pot. Alice is already dressed in a white linen blouse and dark blue shorts, her hair groomed into her standard French bob. Despite being only 5'4", I feel like I practically tower over her.
"Aw, Hey Bell," Alice's voice has a sweet Mississippi lilt to it, unfaded despite all her time away from Biloxi. "Did you sleep okay? We were out for so long yesterday, I can't believe how fast I fell asleep… even with Jasper's snoring," she grins at me slyly, a subtle hint at who she shared a bed with last night. I could hear Jasper rumbling through the wall before I drifted off, like almost every night for the past two years. I've been holding back just as long on mentioning that he should seriously see a doctor about his apnea—he refuses to admit it's a problem, and it's begun a sort-of running joke.
"Yeah," I shrug, "I slept alright. I had one of my usual dreams though—kinda have a bad feeling about heading out today."
"Oh, fuck," Alice frowns. She's never been one to dismiss a bad dream, and has an eerie sixth sense about the weather sometimes. Better yet, an eerie sixth sense about everything. She's the only person in the lab who knows my backstory, and she's never pitied me for it. She's also my closest friend—we met when we found out we were assigned a dorm together in undergrad, and grew even closer once we realized we had the same major. We got especially lucky when both got into the same grad school, and we've been roommates for years. "Well, let's talk it over with everyone once we're all up. I'll pull some of the data the National Weather Service has released for today, check NEXRAD and the Spotter Network, and then make some gameplans."
"That sounds great, Al. Why don't you go wake Jasper up…" I nudge her shoulder with a playful wink, "and I'll grab everyone else."
Our summer research team is a joint effort between Dr. Platt's lab at Columbia and the University of Oklahoma. We're studying tornado genesis, and with luck, tornado prevention. The aim is to better understand how tornadoes form, so we can predict more clearly when and where they'll hit. The end goal of this research—and the supposed topic of my dissertation, once I'm out of candidacy—is the fabled tornado prevention, to save people's lives who are in the paths of storms. The way to do this is to get out in the field with all our gear to capture tornadoes. What this ultimately means is experiencing storms first hand, day after day, all summer. Despite my frustration and edginess from the dream I had last night, I can't stifle my excitement at what the coming months will mean.
I take a moment to catalog the team this year before I knock on everyone's doors. Jasper Whitlock, Alice's long-term boyfriend (and by extension, my second roommate) runs the monitoring systems in our van while we're out collecting data. He's from Texas originally, and completely towers over her at 6 '4". Alice joins him occasionally—they're both what I would describe as logistics people. Tyler Crowley is usually driving our van, and is our resident GIS whiz. He's also like if a skateboarder became a scientist—irresistibly cool, but he's definitely our most laid-back team member. Jessica Stanley and Connor McLean, both grad students at OU and brilliant in their own respects, are research assistants who try to cover all of the other bases. I also have a sneaking suspicion they're in love with each other, which made the joint room assignments this year much easier. The Doc recently assigned me—rather, 'promoted', her words exactly—to the role of research associate. In short, I try to keep our little circus running smoothly, and tend to run point when it comes to game time decision making.
After knocking on doors and gathering all of my pajama-clad bleary-eyed compatriots, we're all settled around the small kitchenette table in our suite, sipping steaming mugs of coffee and listening to Alice.
"It looks to me like there's a big high pressure system set to roll in just after noon today, headed east of Sapulpa. Everything I'm seeing on the NEXRAD and Spotter is sounding too good to be true. Looks like it could be an EF2, but we won't know 'til it's over. Cross your fingers, this could be it!" Alice's face is lit up in excitement, an expression mirrored by everyone around the table. I can feel a buzz of adrenaline shoot through our small gathering—a good chasing day is better than any other day in our books.
"This looks great, Al. Let's head out shortly—everyone, get dressed and grab your gear," I instruct the team. Everyone nods and dissipates quickly, including me.
Back in my room, I pull my long brown hair into a braided pony, throw on denim cutoffs and one of Jake's old band tees I slipped in my suitcase. I shoot him a quick text to see if he's up yet, but he hasn't been replying much lately—and when he does, it's brief. He's doing a grad degree in Ecology and is doing field work in Alaska. I'm happy for him—when we first met, the first thing we bonded over was feeling stifled in the city, both having grown up in wide open places, so Alaska has been a great placement. I've been nervously chalking his lack of response up to the time difference or assuming he's under some stress. I keep telling myself things will be different when he comes to visit towards the end of tornado season while also trying to remind myself we've only been seeing each other for a few months.
I head into the bathroom to slip my contacts in and pause to give myself a once over. I can see the deep wells from lack of sleep under my eyes, and despite having seemingly unlimited access to the Oklahoma sun, I still look like I'm anemic. Sighing, I apply some sunscreen, brush my teeth, and move to grab my cameras. Lots of storm chasers these days typically use digital means to track the weather and the sky. I do both, but I also think there's something special about still using a real camera (and when I can find nice film for cheap, shooting analog). Back in our shared apartment, Allie and I have assembled scrapbooks of each research trip we've been on, kind of like field journals. This little ritual is even more special to me because I sometimes get to use my mom's old point and shoot—Renee would use it to catalog every milestone. Smiling briefly at the memory, I head out to meet the team and get going.
xxxxxxxxx
We're a few miles east of Sapulpa when I spot it. The air is especially heavy today, and I just noticed the blades in the sorghum field nearby begin to tilt in a different direction. Looking to the west, the direction we came from, the sky is shockingly clear and blue; in the east, the heavy clouds are turning a sickly green.
"Hey, Ty! Can you take a left on this secondary highway in about a mile? I think that funnel cloud is about to touch down that way."
"Sweet spot, B. Can do." Tyler has always had a great attitude, and is easy with taking direction. I think my instincts are right—as soon as we make the next turn, the rain starts. Seconds later, Jasper's comes through on our radio.
"Nice turn, guys. I just spotted a little beauty on the doppler that way," Jasper's Texas twang comes loud and clear through the radio, and I can hear his smile through the static. Just before he clicks off I catch Alice's chirp in the background.
"Alright guys, roll those windows up and make sure we have our seatbelts on! This one might be hot!"
Everyone complies, and I glance back at Jess and Connor in the backseats just in time to catch her squeezing his hand with reassurance.
"Y'know Jess, getting struck by lightning wasn't too bad. I just really hope it doesn't happen again," Connor's joking, but I can hear the thread of nervousness in his tone.
"At least if it happens again, this time Bella can catch it on camera! This is going to be fucking awesome!" With her enthusiasm and long bleach blonde hair, I think Jess must have been a cheerleader in high school or something; she's great at a pep talk. Thankfully, it looks like it's soothing some nerves.
The rain is slowing down but turning into hail, and I can feel the winds slacken against the vehicle as we continue down the backroad—with chagrin, I realize we weren't fast enough to catch a real show, but it might be a good chance to take pictures. I'm starting to think this might be the slowest precipitation we'll get.
"You guys wanna pop out here so I can take some pics? I think this thing is in front of us, and it looks like it's heading away. We should be good," I'm unbuckling my seatbelt before I can hear affirmatives, and I already have my camera ready when I hear Connor's quiet yes and turn to see Jess's nod. "Perfect!"
We hop out of the van, leaving the keys in the ignition for ease of use. I'm getting some great shots—they're good for tracking storms, but really beautiful too. The storm is moving away, and the bruised colour of the sky is fading into the same sharp, sunlit blue we've been seeing all morning. I'm already picturing the start of Al and I's next scrapbook for this trip. I can hear the gang chattering behind me and feel the sun on my face, despite the smell of ozone in the air. If I knew we didn't have such a long day ahead, this moment might almost be relaxing.
It's only been about five minutes of walking and snapping photos of the sky when I can feel something shift. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and the air gets infinitesimally heavier. I take a deep breath and give my head a small shake. This thing is in front of us, and you're always hypersensitive after a nightmare, I tell myself. Just because you had a bad dream doesn't mean anything bad is going to happen, Bella. I glance around but no one else seems to notice a difference in the atmosphere; Tyler is fully distracted and trying to get a large rock to balance on his foot, and both Jess and Connor have their heads bowed towards each other, intently focused on a single set of notes. They're smiling.
Phew.
Out of nowhere, a huge gust of wind is hurled at us; it almost bowls me over, and it keeps coming. I can feel all of the dust and debris from the road pick up and go straight into my eyes.
"Fuck! What's happening?" I'm rubbing my face fiercely, and I can hear similar shouts from the team. Practically blinded, I try to feel with one hand for the non-existent van door as another blast of wind hits us from behind.
"Jess? Con? Ty? Are you guys okay?" I can hear their murmured responses and feel slightly relieved. "Where the fuck is the van?"
"B, we walked a ways! Can you grab my hand? We can all walk together through this!" Tyler shouts.
"Perfect, I'm coming!" Trying to follow the direction of his voice, I still have one hand outstretched. My muscles relax slightly once I make contact with Tyler—or, what I hope is Tyler—but the second I do, the rain comes back and hits us with vengeance.
"What's going on? This shouldn't be happening! Everything looked like it was going away!" I'm yelling over the din of the rain, praying they can hear me. The water on my face is clearing my eyes, and I look back through the practically horizontal rainfall and see that we're all holding hands in a string like preschoolers, with Connor and I on either ends of our little train. It would be funny if the moment wasn't so serious.
If this is something bad, I've never been wrong like this before.
"I don't know! Listen, let's just try to make it back and see what Jasper says on the radio!" Connor shouts.
Adrenaline is flooding my nervous system, and I wish I had the magical power of envisioning doppler radars in my mind so I could figure out what the fuck is going on. The rain is getting sleety, and I just know hail is going to hit us any second.
We're mere feet away from the van and I can hear Jasper's crackly voice shouting through our radio, despite the wind, the van doors being closed and the windows rolled up. Everyone scrambles in.
"What the hell, Al, they aren't answering! If you guys can hear me, you need to get out of there NOW!"
"Jas, we just made it back to the van. What's going on? This shit came out of nowhere," Tyler's panicked voice fills the cabin—everyone is holding their breath, the only other noise is the howling wind outside. He's gripping the keys in the ignition, and I can hear the whine of the engine turning over. The combo of university-cum-government funded gear is so shitty sometimes; I'm going to be so pissed off if this terrible van is the difference between riding this tornado out or getting a safe distance away.
"It did. We must have been too busy tracking the cells to the east—we didn't see this one come in on any radars until it touched down a mile out from your location. Please tell me you're on the move!" It's well concealed, but there's panic in Jasper's voice.
"Just trying to get the fucking van to start…" After several low whines, the engine chugs and then roars to life. "Fucking finally. Okay Jas, tell me where to go!"
"Continue heading east as fast as you can! I think this thing is behind you, but it's catching up quick. Trust me, you don't want to get caught in this!"
"10-4! Headed that way. Stay close by!"
I breathe a sigh of relief and I feel the van slam forward; Tyler's not messing around with the gas pedal. I slip my seatbelt on and run the hem of my tee over my face to dry off a bit. "Jesus," I mutter to our group, "that sounds like it was close."
I glance back and Connor's breathing heavily, with Jess running soothing circles over his back. I catch her eye and we smile relieved grins at each other. We made it.
We're back on a main stretch of highway when the rain starts up again. It's coming down in heavy sheets, but a quick radio to Jasper confirms we're on the right track. I catch myself momentarily thinking of stopping to see if we can catch anything good for further analysis but quickly change my mind—I think we've had enough excitement before lunch today.
We're approaching an overpass, and Tyler's put on some music with a heavy bass guitar. He's singing along loudly and… quite poorly. The man is absolutely tone deaf, and I let a giggle slip out at his antics.
"Jesus, Ty," Connor laughs, "don't quit your day job, buddy!"
"I can already see this on YouTube. Honestly, excellent American Idol audition material," Jess smirks, "can't you put on something more dramatic so we can look out the window while it's raining and pretend we're in a music video?"
"Aw, hey now! Y'all don't like my beautiful singing? I'm just letting the music touch my soul!" Tyler shoots a wink back at Con and Jess in the back seat.
"Well…" I retort, "please ask it nicely to stop."
Everyone is carefree and laughing when I feel the van's wheels lose traction.
We're suddenly fishtailing on the highway, and Tyler is yanking the steering wheel in order to get back on track. Fuck. I feel a jolt go through my body when I realize I'm staring at the rapidly approaching interior wall of the overpass. We're hydroplaning.
A brief feeling of absolute hysteria washes over me—we made it through a tornado scare only to end up in a car accident? Because of the rain?
The van jerks to the left suddenly and my view switches. I feel my head knock hard against the passenger window and it's like I'm outside of my body and looking down, I can't make sense of where we are, I think I'm holding on but I can't be sure. Do I have my seatbelt on? Am I breathing?
My thoughts are interrupted by the crunching sound of metal hitting concrete, so loud it feels like my brain is shaking. I can hear it reverb throughout the empty overpass, and then I'm being propelled backwards by the airbag deploying. I can catch a thread of smoke drifting upwards from where the front of the van used to be.
It's so quiet.
In an effort to pull it together, I'm mentally cataloging my whole body. There's something sharp being pressed up against my right side, but I can't move my neck to look down. Something must have spilled in my lap when we hit the wall; it's dripping and running down my legs. Despite my cataloging, panic is rising in my throat and it tastes a lot like bile. I don't know if it nerves or a result of the accident, but I can't feel my fucking arms.
There's someone in the van repeating a whispered mantra of "it's okay, we'll be okay. It's okay, we'll be okay. It's okay, we'll be okay." Maybe it's me?
I turn slowly to look at Tyler in the driver's seat and make sure he's alive… to make sure we're all alive. To tell him I make out the sound of sirens in the distance, and everything's going to be alright.
It's then that I start screaming, the noise muffled and wet sounding to my own ears.
AN: There you have it, the first chapter ofNatural Disaster! What did you think? Planning on intro-ing Edward at the end of the next chapter or top of chap 3.