Tornado

Oklahoma springs were the worst. One day it could be 50 degrees and the next it could be 80 degrees with a tornado warning. We were right in the middle of what folks called Tornado Valley. There were many people who were storm chasers, both professionally and regular citizens. Personally, I didn’t see the appeal; especially after a tornado wrecked my home.

I was in my living room, watching the weather on my local news station. I didn’t think much about the tornado warning. I had lived in Oklahoma for ten years and never once had I been close to getting hit by one.

Then I heard the sirens.

Trying not to freak out too badly, I gathered my safe box which held my birth certificate, social security card, passport, and driver’s license. I ran outside where my storm shelter was built into the ground. Already the wind was whipping through. The constant thunder sent shivers down my spine. I pulled the doors open and looked up to see the tornado coming. My jaw dropped and the box fell out of my hands, bouncing down the metal stairs into the shelter.

It was large, almost two miles wide. The debris cloud threw pieces of homes and trees further out. In the tornado, I could see lightning. The wind died and I knew then that I was in trouble if I didn’t get in now.

I got in and closed the doors, locking them in place with a grunt. I walked down the stairs, shaking. I curled in the corner and covered my ears as the screaming tornado passed over me. The weather radio I had installed last year was screaming for people to get in their shelters. I was crying.

About ten minutes later, everything died down. I looked at the door to the shelter, wondering if it was safe. My weather radio started up again, I stared at it in fear.

Tornado Warning number 210 is no longer in effect.

I let out a long sigh and picked up my safe box. I climbed the stairs and tried to open the doors. I panicked; a tree must have fallen on top because they wouldn’t budge. With shaking hands, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and stood as close to the doors as I could for reception. I had one bar and dialed my best friend’s number.

“Matt,” I gasped, hoping he could hear me.

“June- okay- tornado-”

“You’re breaking up, Matt,” I said. “I can’t understand you. I’m locked in my storm shelter!”

Before I could say anything else, the phone line went dead and I groaned in frustration. I sat on the top stair and put my face in my hands. I kept shaking and tried desperately not to think about what my home looked like. If the tornado really had passed right over the shelter, there was no way my double-wide was still standing.

An hour later, I heard voices shouting and I jumped to my feet. I pounded loudly on my shelter.

“I’M OVER HERE!” I screamed as loud as I could. “I’M HERE!”

“Juniper!” I heard Matt’s voice yell and I sobbed in relief. “Hold on! We’re going to try and move this tree!”

I waited. I could hear multiple people grunting in effort. There was a loud scraping noise and the doors flew open. Matt was standing there, looking frantic, and I ran into his arms, sobbing. He held me close.

“My house,” I said when I calmed enough.

“No, Juniper,” he whispered. “Don’t look.”

I pushed myself out of his arms and turned. I fell to my knees.

It was gone. All of it was gone.

-Two Years Later-

I woke up, stretching, and looking out of my bedroom window. The city was already bustling even though it was only seven. I got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, getting coffee ready. I yawned loudly. I had to get to work even though I had closed last shift.

I worked at a restaurant as part waitress, part manager. It was a small southern kitchen but it was relatively popular in this area. I took a shower and got dressed in my uniform, pouring my coffee into a to-go mug.

The morning was chilly. It was April and this year had been colder than normal already. As I walked to the bus stop, a few people called to me and I waved back. I sat down and got my phone out, checking Facebook. I had a few people sending me game requests and I rolled my eyes. Just as I got onto the bus, I got a phone call from an unknown number.

Normally I didn’t answer those, but something compelled me to answer.

“Juniper Eaves answering,” I said, sitting in my normal seat after the bus drive swiped my bus pass.

“Hello, Miss Eaves. My name is Paul Grant. I was your mother’s lawyer.”

I frowned. “Why are you calling me?”

“I was going over her will and-”

“Just now?” I asked skeptically. “She’s been dead for a year, Mr. Grant.”

“Yes, but this was her request.”

“What request?”

“You are turning 25 tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes….”

“She has a bank account set up for you but there’s only way you can have access to it.”

“Why are we talking about this over the phone, Mr. Grant? This seems like a conversation we should be having in person.”

“I’m in Florida for a month.”

“I see…. So, what’s this condition my loving mother gave me?” I asked, drinking my coffee.

“Marriage.”

I spat the coffee out and apologized to the person next to me.

“You want to run that by me again?”

“The only way you can have access to the account is if you get married.”

I groaned. Typical Mother.

“I need some time to think about it,” I said finally. “You said you’ll be back in a month?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. We’ll talk then.”

“Understood, Miss Eaves. Have a good day.”

“You, too,” I muttered and hung up.

I looked out the bus window, frowning. My mother had always been overly concerned about my love life. She wanted grandchildren but died before she could get them. I had a feeling this was her way of punishing me for that. But it wasn’t as easy to find a mate as she made it seem.

I got off the bus at my stop, still deep in thought, when I bumped into someone and fell flat on my ass.

“For real!?” I yelled as my coffee crashed to the sidewalk, breaking as it did. “Aw, that was my favorite one!”

“Sorry!”

I looked up and lost my breath for a minute. He was gorgeous. He had deep brown eyes and brown hair. He was muscular but not overly muscular like most of the men in this town were. He was dressed in a business suit and was holding his hand out for me to take.

“Sorry,” he said again, turning red.

“It’s okay,” I sighed, wiping the dirt off my butt. “It’s my fault for not paying attention.”

I looked sadly at my coffee mug. It really had been my favorite.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said quickly but I smiled.

“You don’t have to,” I assured him. I shivered as wind spread through. “Well, I have to get to work. Thanks for helping me up.”

He still looked guilty as I hurried off.