The Tempest by A.J. Scudiere (best books to read in your 20s .txt) 📕

home. A kid’s cup nestled in the grass nearby and a hardback copy of Pride and Prejudice lay at his feet. As he leaned over, he felt his body protest the movement, but he picked up the book and discovered that only the two pages that had been face down on the road had dirt and gravel on them. He wiped it off out of habit and the book was as good as if he’d pulled it off the shelf.

Folding it shut, he wondered what to do with it, but he was distracted by something pink. On his left, smack in the middle of the road, was a single, pristine slice of bologna. Beyond that, a twisted water heater and a window frame blocked the lane.

Boomer and Bob had navigated the damaged roads to get to them. And as Cage peered as far as he could in each direction, he had to wonder how they’d managed to get their truck around some of the obstacles. Then he wondered how they would get everyone back to wherever they were going.

His next thought was how to find his sister.

But around him, no one else was thinking, and everyone was moving.

“Get up in the truck,” Boomer told him, as the man helped Sarah into the bed with the other foundlings. Deveron tugged on her, using her good arm. Cage was the last one, and they were all now waiting on him.

But he didn’t move.

Boomer seemed to sense his hesitation and provided some information. “We're gonna get you folks to the community center where they've got everything organized.”

And it occurred to Cage, as he surveyed the motley crew waiting on him in the bed of the truck, that they were waving him in. They understood the protocol to get to the community center. Though this might be his first devastating tornado, it wasn't theirs.

He wanted to run down the street and scream for his sister, but he wasn’t going to find her that way. He had no choice but to climb into the truck.

28

Her alarm was going off. The odd noise was incessant, but repeating in an odd pattern. She reached out to slap it, but missed, her hand landing in grass.

“Ugh.” She heard her own voice, and it was less complaint and more groan. Slapping her alarm hurt, so she tried something else. She lifted one leg, placing her foot flat on the bed, but that hurt, too.

Again, the alarm made its odd, organic beep.

“Shut up,” she yelled at it, but though she managed to form words this time, her voice seemed to be set to whisper-volume.

It beeped again, only this time the sound was lower and more drawn out. The beep was afraid.

Now Joule frowned. Beeps shouldn't convey emotion.

She rolled her head slowly toward the sound, but the crackling noise that motion made concerned her more than her scared alarm clock. Still, she smacked her hand down in several different places, but didn't manage to hit the alarm. It rewarded her with another long, low buzz.

Prying one eye open, she immediately shut it again, hoping to stop the bright glare. Next she tried slowly opening both eyes. Joule didn't know how long it took to get her eyes open and focused, but when she looked around, her head still made that strange crackling sound.

The field was a mess—trees down, broken limbs everywhere. The place she lay was littered with trash, and as she rolled her head to the right again, she caught a glimpse of white next to her eye. Reaching up, she pulled a dirty plastic bag from behind her head. At least the crackling noise wasn’t coming from her.

“Ew.” She heard the sound of her own voice, creaky as if from disuse. And in that moment, everything came flooding back: lashing herself to the pipe, her and Izzy getting thrashed around, bashing into each other until the knot on the belt had come loose.

She'd grabbed onto Izzy. Sarah had also grabbed on to Izzy. Joule had grabbed onto Cage. And it still hadn't been enough.

Where was Izzy?

Joule sat right. Where was Cage? Deveron? Sarah?

Her head throbbed from the sudden movement, but she ignored it. There was no one here. She was in a field, alone.

The odd alarm went off again. This time, her head snapped toward the sound, though her muscles protested and her brain pulsed. She was leaning back on her hands, propping herself up in spite of the dull pain in her right arm, but she was more concerned with finding the odd sound.

“Mrrrrrrwow.”

A little black head popped up.

A tiny kitten. It was out walking in the grass. It felt better, somehow, to know that maybe she wasn’t completely alone. Holding her hand out, Joule waited until the small thing came directly to her.

Another little growl-meowl let her match the sound to her concerning alarm clock. Well, thank God she hadn't managed to smack it off.

Not generally a fan of babies, Joule still held her hand out as the tiny feline sniffed at her fingers. This one was hard to ignore. It only took a moment for the creature to deem her friendly and leap into her lap where it pawed at her shirt.

“Where are you from?” she asked as though it would answer. Of course, it didn’t, so she looked around.

Kittens—ones this tiny—didn’t run around solo. “Where are your brothers and sisters? Where's your mama?”

Again, it had no reply.

The lack of response left the day eerily silent but otherwise gorgeous. The sky was too-bright blue, the wash of color a background for fluffy white clouds that chased each other across the cerulean expanse.

Joule could only look up. If she did that, then the day was perfect.

When she looked down, the damage was the only thing left to see.

On the far side of the field, she could see a dirt rut, or at least the edge of it. She couldn't see the other side.

But she sat there, despite the need to stand up and inspect it.