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

Scarecrow. It's actually an easier reference to get than an eighties band!”

But whatever Jerry had replied was overpowered by the sound as the winds kicked up and yanked at the cellar doors harder this time. The roar of the wind and the damage and sheer anger of the storm stole everything as the new funnel once again targeted them.

43

Joule pressed her back against the cold earth wall of the cellar, clutching Toto closely to her chest. Given the wind and the noise, the tiny kitten didn't seem to object at all to being held so tightly.

The harsh sound of the storm seemed to scrub at everything beyond the cellar door. It whipped at the plywood, wracking it against the hinges and trying to steal it away. From beyond the dark, she could hear trees cracking, or maybe that was the house above her. She heard splintering noises, pops, thumps, crashes, and more. In here, it was dark, and still. But beyond the tiny space, the world was being ravaged.

For a moment, Joule panicked that she wasn't tied to anything. But this time, she didn't have to be; she wasn't stuck out in the open. She was safe—or at least as safe as she could be.

Her brain ran wild, thoughts leaping radically from one idea to the next. She considered the possibility that she would die here, that—after everything else—this would be where she met her demise. She considered the possibility that she would survive this tornado but be trapped. And who would look for them here? She wanted to ask Jerry if anyone would come, but the effort it would take to yell such a ridiculous question wasn't worth it.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she broke out all over in a cold sweat. Rubbing Toto’s soft fur, she petted him in long strokes from his ears to the tip of his tail until the tiny kitten actually began purring. Oh, she thought again, to have a giant of her own. Someone who could make her feel safe enough to purr in the middle of all of this.

Certainly, the tiny kitten needed to be fed again by now, but there was no good way to get to a tuna can. Pulling a metal tab in the dark was a good way to cut her finger. She had no supplies, no light, and this cellar was probably the best place to pick up an infection. So she decided to wait at least until the kitten whined.

In the pocket on her pants leg, she still had most of the bottle of red-flavored sports drink. But she realized she might now need to start rationing it. It had been intended to last only several hours while she walked. Either until she found someone or until she got back to a stream where she could scoop up more water. Down here, there was no water and nothing to drink, only a bag of potatoes and some root vegetables. At least she was glad she told Jerry to pick up his own drink out of the yard and that she wasn't rationing the one bottle between the two of them.

But what should Toto drink? Anything other than water or kitten milk probably wasn't appropriate for a kitten his age, but she was equally out of both. At least he wasn’t mewing at her. He didn't appear hungry and seemed perfectly content to burrow into the front of her jacket and let her pet him.

Her head snapped at a harsh crack above them. Beside her, she felt his movement as Jerry flinched at the same time. He seemed like such a big burly dude that knowing that he cringed at every sound, too, was at least a little comforting.

She didn't know how long she sat there, but the storm seemed interminable. The noise shifted and changed every second, keeping her muscles clenched and never letting her know if the cellar door was going to fly off or crash inward. Never knowing if the roof would cave in on them, because it certainly sounded like it would.

Though the cellar doors flapped and creaked and lifted as though they were going to get sucked away, the hinges held. Every minute that the doors were still there, Joule was grateful. If she’d known any tornado survival prayers, she would have prayed, because it was all that was left.

At last, the noise died down. But still, she held her breath.

Surely it was coming back. Surely, it couldn't be over. Surely another funnel would form and chase her to another ditch, another cellar. Who knew where or when, but she was willing to bet this wasn’t the end.

The eerie silence was almost more disturbing than the noise had been. She couldn’t place anything, and the disquiet wormed its way into her bones.

Did tornadoes steal the birds and toss them away to distant places? She didn't know.

Was the wildlife gone? Either run off or scrubbed by the beast… She didn't know.

But at last it became clear that sitting here was hurting more than it was helping. If someone was driving by on the road outside, she and Jerry had missed them. It was time to get out and see what the damage was.

She carefully slipped Toto into her pocket again and stood, realizing as she did, that she'd either been there much longer than she thought, or was much more tense than she’d thought. Her knees screamed at her as she tried to unfold them. The pain in her lower back as she stretched upright told her all she needed to know. But she didn't want it to stop her. It was going to hurt anyway.

So she slowly shuffled around, hands out, until she hit the bottom step with her lower shin. She muttered a curse word.

“You hurt?” Jerry asked, followed quickly by, “What are you doing?”

“Checking the doors,” she said. She reached up as she climbed the steps slowly. Her hands were out in front of her, crawling