The Damaged Climate (Book 1): Tornado Warning Page 7

  Not a single car had come down the highway, which lent an eerie feel to Darryl’s surroundings. It wasn’t a busy interstate to begin with, but cars came and went at all hours of the day. He’d passed by a few abandoned ones, and with no one around, he searched each one, hoping to find anything that might help him, but came up short.

  A small rain shower would be great. Nothing severe, just enough to knock the temperature down and cool him off. Instead, the sun beat down on him, it’s large rays making him feel like he was on the surface of it.

  He saw another abandoned car about two hundred yards ahead. Quickening his pace, he fought his aching body. It was a Toyota, much like what Cecilia drove. His heart sank. Was this her car? It looked a lot like it, and when he saw the booster seat in the back, it confirmed that it was. There was no sign of her or Ty. Where were they going? Was Ryan with them, and if so, why did they take the car not his truck, which would prove to be sturdier?

  Opening the door, he reached for the keys, but they were gone too. He searched the console and under each visor, and an insurance card fell to the seat. Skimming it, he saw Ryan and her name as primary drivers, and the sense of dread heightened.

  Were people just vanishing into thin air? The fact that the car was in one piece made him feel better. It meant that they didn’t get tossed inside, but stranger things could happen. Tornadoes were known for skipping one house and then completely demolishing the next.

  Darryl ran out into the field, yelling out each of their names. The trees swayed in the breeze and no one answered back. It was the first time he noticed that there weren’t even any birds flying or chirping like they usually did on an early spring morning. Life as he knew it was gone, and he felt like the only man left on a planet that was destroying itself.

  “Ryan!”

  He went off course, hoping they were held up somewhere, taking cover outside of the car, but there was nothing. No footprints, nothing ever giving a hint that they were there – only Cecilia’s car, abandoned, leaving no trace of anything behind.

  When Darryl calmed down, he figured out he was on Farmer Johnson’s land. Due north of the mileage marker was where his house once stood, so he hurried in that direction. Maybe they had gotten in his cellar and were just waiting for help.

  Just as he expected, the house was gone. The foundation was still there, but to the left was a closed cellar door. Flinging it open, he looked down inside, but it was dark.

  “Ryan? Cecilia?”

  His voice echoed and no one responded. He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned on his heel, gasping. Two men were behind him. He didn’t recognize either of them.

  “Can we help you, mister?”

  “I’m looking for Farmer Johnson. Where is he?” The men struck him wrong and he backed away to keep a safe distance.

  “Not here, as you can see.” One man nudged the other and they laughed.

  “Where is he?” He thought about asking if they had seen his family, but he kept that detail to himself until he got a better idea of who the strangers were.

  “He didn’t make it. Neither did his wife.”

  “How do you know? Did you find their bodies?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  One of the men flashed a light down into the cellar, revealing a bloody blanket in the corner. Darryl’s pulse raced and he took another step back, gagging. It couldn’t be. He had just talked to Johnson a few days ago about buying a horse from him.

  “You didn’t...”

  “We needed food. Desperate times call for desperate measures. You know the old saying.”

  Darryl bit his bottom lip. “The police will get you for this. They were good people.” His voice shook and he tried to hide his emotion.

  “The police aren’t coming, old man. Can’t you see? We’re all on our own now. Fend for ourselves. Battle of the fittest. Our way of life before all of this is over. It’s like the end of the world, and I’m not going to let me or my brother suffer. Take charge now!” He scrubbed his hand down the back of his neck. “You got anything we can use?”

  “No.” The canteen was heavy on his hip, but maybe they wouldn’t see it under his shirt.

  “Then you are no use for us, just like the Johnson’s weren’t.”

  He pulled a knife out, and Darryl backpedaled and turned to run. There was no indication that they had a gun or weapon, and he cursed himself for leaving all of his in his house. They were gone like everything else, but he never figured he’d run into something like that. It was like he was stuck in an end of the world movie with criminals.

  No gunshots rang out. No one came after him. Maybe they’d stay close to their food supply and leave him alone. When he finally felt safe enough to, his paced slowed to a walk and he glanced over his shoulder. The poor Johnson’s probably invited them right down for food, and they turned on them. Was the situation really that bad? With the absence of emergency personnel, it was plausible. People panicked and slipped into survival mode when routines and ways of life were interrupted by disaster.

  There were so many questions on Darryl’s mind. Why was Cecilia’s car abandoned on the side of the highway? Who was with her? Or even worse – had the two thieves and murderers already been to Ryan’s house and taken it? Was Ryan, Ty and Cecilia dead like the Johnson’s?

  He had to get to his son’s place. Time was against him, and he needed to make sure that they were okay. He’d only stop for water and to take short breaks. If he kept up the pace, maybe he’d make it by the time the sun went down, barring no other issues arose between now and then.

  ~~

  Ryan made several strands of rope, pulling them as tight as he could. With too much weight, they’d snap – the wood was already starting to get dry and he worried that even Ty would be too heavy. He counted the good pieces of wood he might be able to make steps out of. There were only a few that would prove useful, and he was running out of options. There were plenty of trees still halfway standing, but without a saw, he had no way of getting more wood.

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sat down and took a deep breath. He had checked on Ty about ten minutes ago and the boy was resting comfortably. He needed to clean his wound, but he didn’t want to expose it and get it infected. It needed to breathe and Ryan shivered at the thought of the bone protruding from Ty’s arm.

  Looking toward the mountain range to the west, his heart skipped a beat. Standing, he took a few steps forward, his eyes widening. The same exact cloud formation was brewing as days before when the monster tornado barreled through and made the area look like an apocalyptic wasteland. He swung open the cellar door and carried the ropes and pieces of wood down, unwilling to risk them being blown away in whatever nature was about to throw them.

  Ty lifted his head off of the lawn chair, groggy as he rubbed his eyes. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, son. Just putting some stuff down here so I can work on it in case it rains again.”

  “Is another storm coming?” Ty’s voice shook.

  “I don’t know, Ty. Don’t worry. You’re safe down here. I mean it when I say I won’t let anything happen to you.” He felt guilty enough at the present situation.

  Climbing to the top of the cellar, he tied one end of the rope to the inside of the door, securing it as best as he could. Streaming it down to the floor, he searched for something strong enough to tie the other end to, and serve as an anchor that could stand up to the high winds. The only thing available was a pipe in the corner where he had meant to put in a sink. It was another unfinished project to add to his growing list, but now, it served as a beneficial ingredient in his plan to keep the cellar shut off from what was about to transpire above them.

  Ryan hoped the knots would stay strong. He didn’t tie it up yet. He wanted to get one more look at the weather to get an idea. Peeking through, he pulled himself up, keeping one eye on Ty and one on the sky. Clouds swirled and he could swear they were growling as they brewed up another disastrous system th
at would finish the job and kill those who were lucky enough to make it through the first storm.

  It was like a bad wreck he couldn’t peel his eyes off of. He wanted to see as much of it as he could and get down in the cellar in the nick of time, but he had Ty to think about and the promise he had made to his child. Rain splattered the already soaked ground, and he expected it to be cold, but it was warm, splashing on his skin and through his thin t-shirt.

  “Daddy!” Ty yelled at him, and Ryan ignored him, watching the clouds that looked alive, hungry to suck up whatever was in their path. “Daddy!”

  Ty yelled again, pulling Ryan from his trance. Slipping back inside, he anchored the door, tying it to the pipe intended for plumbing. Was it buried deep enough to stand strong? They would soon find out.

  Ryan picked up the lawn chair with Ty still in it, pushing it back against the wall farthest from the door and sat beside him, holding his hand, probably squeezing too tight. He wasn’t a praying man, but he closed his eyes and thought about the words of the Lord’s Prayer. Hopefully, Cecilia, her parents, and his father were all in a storm shelter somewhere, perfectly safe.

  The metal door bounced up and down from the small amount of slack the homemade rope had in it. Lifting, a few drops of rain came in, but it fell back down, sealing them back inside. Ryan watched the rope being pulled tight and loose multiple times, making it weaker each time it happened. He thought about pulling it tight, but the strength of the storm would be no match for him, and he didn’t want to risk being sucked out with it.

  The metal bounced up and down but provided a good barricade. Ryan stayed up against Ty, partly to comfort the boy and partly to shield him. He couldn’t remember what had injured him before, and he didn’t want to take any chances this time around. The clank of the metal was loud, echoing against the roar overhead. A few pieces of rope snapped, but the middle strand was standing strong. If it lasted much longer, it’d break and the piece of metal would fly off, leaving them vulnerable again.

  “I’m scared!” Ty cried, the tears flowing down his cheeks as he buried his face in Ryan’s arm.

  What Ryan wanted to say was “me too”, but he refused to show weakness. The storm stopped as soon as it started, but he knew better than to check it out. It always came back for round two, so he stayed where he was, his eyes moving up and down the rope, making sure it was okay. It dripped with water from the rain that was able to get in, but they were much better protected than the first time when nothing was blocking the exit.

  Everything seemed calm. There was no rain, no rumbles of thunder, and the wind was gone. Ryan waited another ten minutes, double checking Ty who was so scared that he was shaking.

  “You okay, son?” Ryan ran his hand down Ty’s face.

  “When is it going to stop? I want to go home, daddy. I want mommy.”

  “Me too. And I can’t answer that. I’m sorry.”

  “My arm hurts. My head hurts. I don’t feel very well.”

  Ryan kissed his forehead. “I know, Ty. I’m trying to get you help.”

  He gently took Ty’s arm out of the sling and pulled the bandage away. He used hand sanitizer on his hands, cleaning them enough to handle Ty’s wounds. Dabbing some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball, he wiped it near where the bone was and Ty let out a yelp, but he didn’t have much energy, and couldn’t pull away. Doing the same to Ty’s head wound, he tossed the used gauze into a trash bag.

  “We are going to leave the bandages off for a little while and let you get some air.”

  “But I’m breathing air. What do you mean?” Ty’s words came out in pants and his eyelids seemed heavy.

  “Your wounds, Ty. I just want to make sure they don’t get infected.” Ty was so innocent, and even then, he was clueless about the condition he was in. That was probably for the best. He didn’t need to know how much trouble they were in.

  The edges of the cuts were red and he had done his best to clean them without causing more pain for Ty, but it felt like a half-ass attempt. The bone worried him the most – what if Ty lost his arm because of this? And the head wound was worrisome too. At least he was alert and talking, but didn’t people seem fine days after and then suddenly take a turn for the worse? It made Ryan sick to his stomach.

  “Am I going to die?” Ty asked, looking up at his father.

  “No. What did I tell you earlier?” Ryan fanned his fingers through Ty’s hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m sorry that you’re hurt.” Ryan felt the warmth gather in the corners of his eyes and turned his face away. He couldn’t let Ty see the tears.

  He had to go find help, but Ryan couldn’t leave Ty. That was not an option. With the looters and the unpredictable weather, it was out of the question. He could get him out of the cellar and cart him to town where more people were probably gathered. But they lived too far away to make that trek without the absolute certainty that they’d be protected when another storm came through. The question wasn’t if, it was when. There would be more weather. It was like they were stuck in a cycle that was out to kill everyone, controlled by a country who was using atmospheric warfare to take over America. If he carried Ty off and away from shelter and food and another storm came, they’d be dead.

  He needed a vehicle. He needed the atmosphere to calm down. He needed to find Cecilia. And most of all, he needed medical attention for Ty. Help wasn’t coming. No one was coming. They were forgotten – stuck in hell on earth with no signs of anything getting better.

  Chapter Nine

  Darryl saw the storm forming to the east of him. He was about two miles from his house, and would never make it back in time if the weather decided to backtrack and come his direction. It got dark and the clouds grew faster than he had ever seen.

  Looking around, he had no shelter anywhere nearby to go to. There were groves of trees that had already been torn apart, their trunks the only thing still rooted in the ground like a lumberjack had hacked away at the limbs.

  Leaning on one, he took a second to watch the sky. He couldn’t continue on his trek to the south without getting closer. If he stood back, he’d have a chance to survive if the storm took a normal pattern, leaving him on the west end out of harm’s way. But none of the storms had been doing that. From what he had observed, everything swung around and the path was unpredictable.

  Sipping his canteen, he sloshed the water around. This was why he struggled with his decision to leave his semi-safe cellar. He also worried about Ryan – the storm was right over the Harper Springs area and they were probably getting the brunt of it. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see any wall clouds or funnels dipping down, but there was some defined rotation that could easily produce something tornadic at any second.

  He could walk west and put even more distance between him, but that would set him back. It’d also be possible that he’d run into the looters again, and this time, he might not be as lucky as he was the first time he encountered them. If he stayed where he was, his risk of being right in the path grew, especially if it took a more northerly track.

  Despite the grim situation playing out in front of him, Darryl admired the show that mother nature was putting on. It was hypnotic watching the different colors mesh together, the lightning flashing from cloud to cloud, and the chemistry of the atmosphere blending to form something with that kind of power. A large white hail shaft was right in the middle, and he’d be willing to bet it was producing at least softball sized hail.

  It gave him a natural high, but the loud clap of thunder pulled him from his haze and he thought about all of the innocent people in harm’s way, including his family.

  The wind picked up and cool air sucked up into the clouds. It sprinkled some, but only enough to make the ground wet again, and then it stopped. The storm continued to move northeastward, giving no indication that it would backtrack. With the uncertainty of it all, Darryl questioned his ability to track it, but it pushed off, leaving a lighter gray sky behind it. It was small compared to th
e recent storms, which was shocking. This would’ve easily been ranked a severe storm on a normal afternoon. But things were not normal and he feared they never would be again.

  He had to keep going. With as fast as it was moving, he’d never catch up to it unless it stalled out. Getting to Ryan and his family was important, but he also feared what he might find. What if they were dead? What if he stumbled on their bodies? With how desolate and quiet everything was around him, the chances of even finding them at all, were minimal. Not knowing what would happen next was killing him, and it was disheartening knowing that the only other people he had come across were looters who had already killed his neighbors. Darryl didn’t want to admit that things were that bad. It was the twenty-first century. How could it ever get that bad?

  ~~

  Ryan spent most of the day stringing together rope to make a stretcher. With the stronger pieces of wood, he’d be able to make something sturdy enough for Ty when the time came to get him out of the cellar. It seemed more efficient than wasting his time on steps that would possibly collapse with the next round of storms that came through. All he needed to do was make sure there was a way to safely secure Ty when he pulled him up and not risk the boy falling.

  With his fear of leaving the boy unattended, he hadn’t strayed far from their shelter. He wondered what was out in the pasture from all of the debris that had been tossed around. Maybe he’d find some random parts and things he could use as tools, but with Ty in and out of consciousness, the unpredictable weather, and the looters, he wasn’t comfortable going very far.

  Leaning over the entrance to the cellar, he flashed his light down inside. “Hey, Ty! You awake?” He needed rest, but he also needed to monitor how often Ty slept. He flashed the light to the side of the lawn chair so he wouldn’t blind him.