Part 6 (1/2)

Abigail's gaze jerked back to the awesome activity in the sky. The atmosphere had an almost otherworldly feel. Blessedly, the hail had slowed and finally stopped, but the rain started again. And this time, the downpour was even more torrential than the last. Justin had the one winds.h.i.+eld wiper that still worked-his, thankfully-on high speed.

As he pulled back into the street he frowned, staring straight ahead. ”What's . . . that?” There was something in his voice. Something that made her blood run cold.

”Where?”

He tapped the winds.h.i.+eld, but Abigail could tell that he was looking into the horizon. ”Over Walterville way.”

Since the hail had broken the winds.h.i.+eld wiper on her side, she scooted over, next to him and peered into the twilight. Vision was dodgy because of the rain and the streaks the wiper left, but when a bolt of lightning lit the sky, it illuminated two distinct, boiling, heart-stopping, black ma.s.ses of air that seemed to be on a collision course.

Abigail watched as the clouds collided in a spectacular burst of lightning. Then, three funnels, one after the other, like the long, bony fingers of the grim reaper, dropped out of this unholy union and beckoned them just before they touched the earth and began a ghoulish dance.

Justin snapped the radio on.

”...twenty minutes ago! In fact, three individual tornados converged into what we believe to be an EF4, possibly EF5 tornado coming Rawston's way, and it's one of several sp.a.w.ned by a super-cell that has been growing and wreaking havoc for miles. Reports are coming in from the Walterville area now that indicate large-scale devastation of the northeastern quadrant of that town. The number of fatalities continues to grow from the already unthinkable dozens, and wind speeds reach between two and three hundred miles per hour. If you can hear this broadcast and live in the Rawston area, take cover now! We are getting reports of debris in the air! It's already leveled much of Walterville and shows no signs of letting up as it travels toward the Rawston, Souths.h.i.+re areas. Again, if you are just joining us, an extremely dangerous and deadly tornado touched down in Broadacre twenty minutes ago, traveled through Walterville, and is heading toward Rawston. If you have a bas.e.m.e.nt or crawls.p.a.ce, get down there and take cover immediately! If not, go to the room in the center-most windowless section of your house, bathroom, closet, under the stairs! If you can cover yourself with a mattress, do it!

6:52 p.m.

Someone was screaming. More than one someone. Bob Ray groaned and shot an irritated glance at the ceiling. A brawl? Now? This was going to ruin his fun. He pushed off the spot where he'd been lounging against the bar and enjoying a very deep, very s.e.xy conversation with his new friend, Renee. On tiptoe, he backed up and looked around.

Finally, he located the source of the noise and frowned. It was a couple. Looked like they were dressed in motorcycle leathers. They looked pretty bedraggled. Reaching into a cabinet on the wall behind the bar, he turned off the sound systems and everyone stopped talking at once. As Bob Ray came out front to where Renee stood, he could finally understand what these two were screaming.

”Tornado on the ground! And it's headed right at us!” the man shrieked as he barreled into the center of the room. ”We're in its path and there is no time to escape!”

The woman who hurried along at his side was trembling and clutching his arm and crying. ”It's huge!”

”Probably a mile wide! Maybe more. It's got to be a killer! Take cover! Now! We're outta time!” Panic ensued. Women screamed, men shouted and cursed, and dozens dove under the pool tables. Other people began to unload one of the two supply closets. Renee's eyes were huge with terror as she turned them on Bob Ray.

”Do something!” she shrieked, her fear bordering on hysteria. She clawed at his arms with her nails, both pus.h.i.+ng and pulling him into action. ”Help me!” Her feet were as leaden as his and they both stood-the frozen core of a frenzied mob.

Bob Ray's heart was pounding so hard he was scared it was going to explode. Thousands of thoughts rushed through his brain, just like they used to out on the football field when a giant linebacker would come soaring through the air at him, and he had to get rid of the ball. Fast. As he tried to locate and gather his senses, people jostled and thrashed and shoved him out of the way. Some even ran outside. Maybe to see how close the twister was. Maybe to try and out run it in their cars. Should he be doing that, too? Immediately, the single and multi-occupant restrooms were filled and locked. The first closet was crowded and the door pulled shut and blockaded.

Finally springing into action after what seemed like a lifetime of indecision, Bob Ray and a couple of men who hadn't yet taken cover feverishly tossed equipment out of the second closet. Renee stood by, pupils dilated, and screamed along with the thunder just beyond the ceiling. While Bob Ray was pus.h.i.+ng several heavy boxes out of the way, the men jumped inside and pulled the hysterical Renee in with them. The building was vibrating now, and the wind was shrieking like a teakettle boiling over. Before Bob Ray could get back across the room, Renee had slammed the door shut. He jiggled the handle, his heart choking him with fear. ”Open up!” he shrieked, and swore and beat on the door. ”I'm still out here!”

Renee screamed at the men who cowered inside with her. ”No! There is no time left! Don't open it! Don't!”

Fury had him savagely kicking the door. Inside, Renee screamed curses at him, and the men hiding with her held the k.n.o.b tight and shouted for him to stop. Something huge crashed into the side of the building, and Bob Ray finally accepted the fact that they had no intention of taking a chance to save his sorry hide.

On instinct now, he sprinted back behind the bar. Yanking open the industrial, half-sized refrigerator that was built into its underbelly, he flung out jars of maraschino cherries, lemon and lime wedges and everything else they kept in there. This refrigerator had been special order-made to handle a thriving business, yet stay compact and out of the way. Had to be at least a cubic yard of s.p.a.ce in there, probably more. He'd fit. Barely. He ripped out the racks, squeezed inside, and using the little shelves on the door as a handle, pulled it shut.

It was pitch black and-except for the roar of blood pulsing like water through a fire hose in his ears-quiet in there. So. Were these the last minutes of his life? Was this all there was? Was he going to die in a refrigerator, under a bar? Was that his destiny?

Bile rose in his throat as he remembered Heather. How were Heather and Robbie doing? Were they in the tornado's path? A terror he'd never known gripped him as he imagined them in that trailer as a twister bore down. Tears were wetting his cheeks as he began to bargain with G.o.d. ”G.o.d! I know I'm a loser! But please, don't take it out on my kid and Heather. They're good, G.o.d. Please. Please, take me if you have to, but let them live. And if you let me live, I promise I'll be a better man-a better father and a better husband. Please, G.o.d, please.”

Head wedged between his knees, Bob Ray cried like a baby. The woman he'd been ready to throw his marriage vows out the window for had just sentenced him to death. Heather never would have done that. Never.

She was good and kind and sweet to him even when he treated her like dirt. Though she'd been just as young and scared as he'd been before the wedding, she'd done the right thing. And, even though it had to be grueling, being stuck in a broken-down dump of a trailer all day with a baby, she was a good mom to Robbie. Always buckled him in his ca.r.s.eat and played with him and prayed for him and treated him like he was a blessing. Unlike him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even touched the kid. And the weird thing was, he loved that little boy. More than anything. Robbie was his son. Just a baby. So sweet.

Bob Ray's jagged sighs were filled with self-loathing and regret.

It was h.e.l.l, just sitting here waiting. And waiting. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion now. Then, just as he was beginning to wonder if this whole storm thing was maybe some kind of monster con-job by the two people who'd come screaming through the front door, his ears popped and the air seemed to whoosh from the tiny refrigerator as if it had been vacuum sealed.

Suddenly, Bob Ray was certain that if the tornado didn't kill him, a complete lack of oxygen would.

8.

6:53 p.m.

Robbie was screaming in her ear as Heather frantically yanked down the red velvet curtains that hung over the Rawston Christian Church's baptistery and flung them into the water tank. Thankfully, it had been drained after the last round of baptisms. As carefully as she could, she climbed inside and, once she had herself and Robbie well padded, she pulled the wooden cover over their heads. Settling into the darkness, she turned them both on their sides. As much as possible, without hurting him, Heather tried to cover her baby with her body and the yards of fabric.

”Shhh, Robbie, baby. Mommy's right here,” she whispered, her voice shaking both from exertion and emotion. ”We're just going to play the hiding game right now, okay? Like we do with Daddy sometimes?”

Robbie's shrieks quieted some as he listened to her m.u.f.fled voice. ”Da-da?”

”Yes, Daddy is coming to find us so you have to be really quiet while we hide, okay?”

Robbie's little body shuddered and he sighed. Heather drew him infinitesimally closer into her embrace. Just before she'd torn the curtains down, she'd stuffed a s.h.i.+vering Robbie under her T-s.h.i.+rt and zipped her sweats.h.i.+rt up over them both. Then, she locked her arms around his tiny, chilled body and began to murmur her prayers in his ears. She prayed that the arched timbers over the baptismal would hold. She prayed that the baptismal would stay put. She prayed for Robbie. She prayed for herself. And she prayed for Bob Ray, wherever he was.

When she was done praying for her guys, she started on everyone else she could think of who was perched, like so many dust bunnies, in the path of this giant vacuum cleaner.

After that, she asked for forgiveness for kicking in the church's kitchen window. But the building had been locked, and she hadn't known what else to do. In a frenzy, she'd beaten the remaining shards out with a rock, and then dragged a wailing Robbie in after her. Panting, gasping, wheezing, she'd surveyed the building, her eyes searching, searching, searching, her mind spinning.

Safe. Safe, G.o.d, what would be the safest place? It was then, she saw the cross, suspended above the pulpit, and its vertical beam seemed to be pointing to the baptistery. ”Thank you, Jesus,” she'd breathed and dashed, with Robbie hollering under her right arm, up the steps to the back room's entrance. She'd set Robbie down and muscled the cover back to see a deep, well-supported s.p.a.ce, just perfect for the two of them.

While she hunkered down over Robbie, Heather also asked forgiveness for everything else she could think of, including bringing Robbie into a teenaged marriage and messing up her and Bob Ray's lives with the stupid, selfish choices she'd made. And, when she felt that she'd done all she could and whispered her final ”amen,” she kissed her son's cheeks and told him how precious he was. And that he was a good boy and a blessing, no matter what anybody else might ever say to him. His cheeks were so plump and soft and his hair still just tufts of peach fuzz. She inhaled his sweet Cheerios and diaper powder babyness and tried not to let him know she was crying. Because it wouldn't be long now.

She hoped that when the devil she'd seen earlier touched down to do battle with G.o.d's house, that she and Robbie could stay together. Robbie's head grew heavy on her arm and his breathing slow and regular. The little stinker had fallen sound asleep. She smiled as a peace-the kind that pa.s.sed all understanding, she guessed-began to calm the terror in her heart.

6:54 p.m.

Abigail clutched Justin's arm as they stood inside the Quick In Go and watched the grim reports coming in on the Weather Channel. Wind whistled through the gap in the gla.s.s entrance doors and customers milled, nerves strung tight, wringing their hands. As they paced, they wondered what would happen and what, if anything, they should do to protect themselves. Several were on cell phones with friends and family, getting and giving updates. They found Jen Strohacker standing in the back with the store's manager, anxiously watching the TV. She must have come in from her tanning shop two doors down in this same strip mall. When she saw Justin, she rushed to him, her eyes round with worry. ”You haven't seen Danny, have you?”

”No. I thought he'd be with you.”

”No. No. My ultrasound appointment was canceled. He ran over to Bob Ray and Heather's to help with a flooding problem. He's not answering his cell phone . . .” Her voice rose and her hands shook.

”Jen,” Justin pulled her hands into his and said, ”I think phone service might be sketchy at this point. He's probably already home.”

Sucking in a huge breath, she bobbed her head. ”You're probably right. I'm just on edge because of the baby and everything.”

Abigail glanced back and forth between them, sensing how much they both wanted to believe, seeing the worry, palpable, vibrating and pulling them all to the brink. She had no profound words of wisdom or comfort. Nothing but feelings of inadequacy and terror. She reached out and took Jen's hand, as much to comfort her, as to comfort herself.