The Tempest A.J. Scudiere (books to read in a lifetime .TXT) 📖

As the team trekked across the open space, Cage found himself sneaking a glance toward the edge of the trees and wondering if he could see night hunters roaming in between the trunks.

Even as he reminded himself it was just his imagination, he startled at the harsh of the siren stopping all five of them in their tracks.

20

“We don't have sirens here,” Deveron commented to Joule as both their heads snapped at the harsh sound.

She was frowning without meaning to. It took a second to recognize it wasn't a siren, but a bullhorn. Even as Joule figured it out, Radnor's voice came over the line. “F 2 in Horton.”

That was all he needed to say.

“Holy shit.” But her words were swallowed as her boss must have pressed the button again and the sickly electronic siren noise filled the air once more.

Radnor was making a running loop around the field—which she'd never seen him do before—and aiming the siren first one way then another. Periodically, he would stop and plant his feet, pressing the device to his mouth to say once again, “F 2 on the ground in Horton.”

She hadn't wanted to look up the information before, but now she regretted not knowing how much bigger an F2 was than an F1. At the time, she’d mentally told herself she didn’t need that information because she’d had her tornado scare and she was done with it.

She and Deveron quickly packed their tools. Her hands moving with almost no input from her brain, and she had the handles Velcro’d together and the whole thing scooped up and ready to go.

She was starting across the field as she felt the first drops of rain hit. Large and soft, they were almost whimsical amidst the panic that was trying to force its way through the field and through her system. Joule fought down her fear. She could see the other teams around her moving quickly, trying to clear out in an efficient manner while holding their own worry at bay.

The siren stopped for a moment and Radnor’s voice came over the bullhorn again. Only this time all he said was, “Shit.”

Unable to help herself, Joule laughed. She turned to find Deveron doing much the same. Probably hysteria and panic response, she thought but she'd giggled a little harder.

But when Radnor’s voice came back, she quit.

“F 2 in Arab.”

Once again, Joule turned to Deveron. They'd covered some distance, but the field was huge. They were nowhere near the main tent yet. “Did he get it wrong the first time?”

Arab was a different city from Horton, almost thirty minutes away. But even as Deveron shrugged in reply, Radnor’s voice came over the system again. “Two twisters on the ground.”

Joule froze.

Horton and Arab were on almost opposite sides of the array field. They were standing somewhere in between what was now two tornadoes—but the real question was, where would the storms be in relation to them in five minutes?

That all depended on which way the twisters tangled and turned. And that was unpredictable. They could move slowly. Turn on a dime. Plow a ten-foot-wide precision cut through a gravel driveway or eat one half of a store—like she’d seen in town.

“Everyone, head immediately to your cars, and go home.” Radnor blasted the siren once, almost like a car horn, rather than a wail now.

After three short blasts, which Joule didn’t think they’d been trained to interpret as anything other than an attempt to get everyone’s attention, her boss began reciting safety information.

“Find shelter. Don't hide under bridges, they're not safe. The engineers know the physics will actually increase wind speeds. Don't try to outrun it. Get out of the car, get into a low ditch.”

It took her a few moments to realize he must have pulled something up on his phone and was reading the instructions out to everyone. Periodically he would stop and add his own commentary or blast the siren like a horn again. Still, he moved around the field, aiming it in every direction and looking for all of his employees.

She could tell when he ran out of instructions, because his voice became more forceful. “Everyone to the tent! Check in with Chithra before you leave. We need to be sure we've claimed everyone.”

Radnor wasn't one to give in to panic, not that Joule imagined, but she could hear a hint of terror seeping into his voice as she and Deveron raced across the field, tool bags still in hand.

“Leave your equipment behind,” Radnor called out. “We don't care, keep yourself safe.”

“The tornado’s really not close,” Deveron told her. His breath and his clunky movements as he tried to run with the heavy toolbag at his side cut into the words.

Joule still understood and she agreed. But Radnor wanted them to run. In fact, in just another second, he yelled out over the bullhorn again. “Faster! Please drop your bags.”

And it took the two of them another few moments and Radnor repeating himself to realize their boss was aiming the bullhorn at them. Both of them were still clutching their tools as though they were saving graces—as though they could simply remove a lug nut from a tornado if it came their way and stop it in its tracks.

Dropping her own bag, Joule elbowed Dev, who seemed to have not caught on that he was still clutching his like a lifeline. As she heard his bag hit the grass not far from where she’d left hers, she grabbed his free hand and waved to Radnor, letting him know that they'd finally understood and were following instructions better now. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding.

She couldn’t take another disaster.

Hand in hand, they bolted through the rain and toward the tent as Chithra and Leah stood there, calling out first names as people went by.

“Micah!”

“Sarah!”

Each person waved, knowing they’d been accounted for, before diving through the now heavy rain toward their cars. Several were revving and pulling out as Joule told