Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller Druga, Jacqueline (top 5 ebook reader .TXT) 📖

rural area saw it coming, like we did and took shelter.

It moved slow enough to do so.

I pushed to the back of my mind every post made in our group, every information update Julius gave when he said it would not be one or two isolated incidents. He told us when one happened, many would happen at once.

Suddenly, I, who had been convinced it was the end of the world, wanted to disbelieve it all when faced with the reality of it.

It was storm One.

I kept repeating that in my mind.

In my heart, I knew that wasn’t really the case.

In the silence of the aftermath, Martin stood and began to pace.

“Martin?” Rosie called him. “Is it over? Do you think it’s over?”

“I think so, Rosie, yes,” Martin told her. “But let’s give it a few minutes.”

“Pap?” Reese stood. “What happens now?”

“After a few minutes, I’m going to go up and see. There are things you do afterwards for safety,” Martin explained. “I’ll go out first, make sure there’s nothing dangerous right outside the door. Like fallen wires and such. I’m going to be honest with you all. Whatever that was didn’t look like your typical tornado, but it moved like one. I have been through a lot of tornados. This was probably the biggest.”

“How big?” Carlie asked. “Is there like a tornado measuring scale? I know there’s one for hurricanes.’

“Big,” Martin answered. “Biggest recorded is what’s called an F-5, some would say an F-6. But something like that …” he shook his head. “Lifts the foundation.”

“How big do you think this was?” Carlie asked.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say because there were three funnels,” Martin answered. “A tornado can strike the house across the street and miss your own. That’s how they work. I can go up there and everything can look fine, or I can go up there and nothing is left.”

Both the kids gasped.

“It doesn’t matter,” Martin said. “You know why? We’re alive. Things can be replaced, our lives can’t.” He looked down to this watch, then at the door. “I think I’ll go assess.”

Lane stood. “I’ll go with you, Martin.”

“Then what?” asked Reese. “Do we leave here or stay?”

“Once I see,” Martin explained. “Once I know it’s safe, then we all can come out. After that, we go check on our neighbors. We may be fine, they may need help.” He reached for the door and stopped. “When you do go out there, if it’s bad, you may feel like everything is gone. You might be scared. You may think nothing is left or …” he paused to shift his eyes at me. “It’s the end of the world. But it’s not. Beyond what you see, everything is fine. We’re not alone. The world keeps moving.” He opened the interior door and stepped out as Lane followed.

Once again, I was left wondering what Martin really felt. Were the words he spoke his way of keeping everyone calm?

He was stable and unwavering. Barely an inkling of concern had crossed his face, even when the shelter shook, and bits of dirt made it through the seams of the prefabbed safe structure.

He had taken a moment to look at me when he spoke about the end of the world. I didn’t know if he suddenly believed me or was trying to subtly convey, he didn’t want me to jump right to that conclusion.

How could I not?

I told him it was coming and coming soon.

I saw the red sky.

Then the trio of funnels arrived.

It wasn’t just circumstance, it was more.

It had to be everything Julius said it would be. If that were the case, things wouldn’t be fine outside our area. There wouldn’t be people waiting to roll in to help and pass out warm bread and hot soup.

It could be a lot more widespread than even Martin anticipated.

As I listened to their footsteps on the metal staircase, I hoped Martin was right. I hoped Lane was right, that I was misled, brainwashed or whatever. Even though I prepared and waited, it didn’t mean I wanted it to happen.

Sitting in the storm shelter, we were in limbo.

But it wouldn’t be long before we knew, what, if anything remained above.

FIVE – HORSEPOWER

When I was younger, we lived in this one story house in Michigan. Nothing fancy, it was a ranch style home made of brick. It was an oven in the summer. Stale humid heat was captured in the small house. We of course didn’t have air conditioning. But we did have relief.

There was this huge exhaust fan in the ceiling. At night, my father would open all the windows, turn that whirling thing on and it not only sucked the hot air out, it brought the cooler air in.

This moment, the exact moment Martin opened the shelter hatch brought me back to the days of the fan.

He hadn’t secured the door to the safe room, why would he? It wasn’t open, just not latched. But when he opened the hatch, the door swung open. A breeze swept across my feet, cooler, coming from the depths of the safe shelter.

It was as if we had been suctioned in there. Similar to the air from a jar releasing with a pop when the lid was opened.

I didn’t think too much of it. After all, I had never experienced a tornado, it could have been normal.

I held the kids’ hands, listening, breathing slowly and waiting until I heard Martin and Lane return.

All the while my mind wondered was there anything left up there? Was it fine? What had they discovered?

A minute or so later, and it seemed much longer, I heard them call my name.

“Jana,” Martin said. “Can you come here, please?”

I was curious why he was calling me. Perhaps it was so bad they didn’t know how to tell the children or Rosie.

After telling them I’d be right back, I left the safe room. Only, unlike Martin, I closed the door. Obviously, they were preparing me for what they had