Page 59 of Into the Tempest

I stepped over Doreen’s legs to near where the dad was sitting and picked up the box with the bird in it. But then I also saw the snacks and food I’d brought. I gave the box to Jeremiah, then handed some bottles of water to the dad and a bag of crisps for his kids. “You guys hungry?”

I gave some water to Doreen and Suri, and taking another bottle, I considerednotgiving it to the news pair, but begrudgingly gave one to them. They could damn well share it.

“Thank you,” the cameraman said.

“Yes, thank you,” the newswoman echoed.

I didn’t reply. I just gave them a look of disdain and went back to Jeremiah. He was now sitting on the floor, so I sat down next to him.

“My name’s Jeff,” the dad volunteered. “And this is Casey and Presley.” Both girls were still lying on Jeff, but they were eating some crisps, so they were going to be okay.

“Doreen, and this is Suri,” Doreen said. “And our baby, Bruce.”

“He rides the motorbike with goggles on,” Casey, the eldest girl, said.

“That’s right,” Doreen said. “He does.”

A clap of thunder and an immediate boom of lightning shook the building, and both little girls screamed.

The wind was back to roaring, the rain was hammering with a constant rumble of thunder. Or maybe the whole sky was roaring. I couldn’t tell it apart anymore.

“I’m Jeremiah,” Jeremiah said. He had to almost yell because of the noise outside.

“Tully,” I said, looking at Jeff. I was pretending the news pair weren’t even there.

They said their names, Shane and Lindy or Lindsey or whatever the hell her name was. I didn’t care. I still didn’t acknowledge them.

“You, uh, Jeremiah,” Jeff said. “You knew there was lightning.”

“Yes,” he answered.

“The girls’ hair,” I added quickly. I wasn’t giving loose-lips-Lindsey one more detail of Jeremiah’s life for her to make a story out of. “Their hair was sticking up with static. It’s indicative of an imminent strike.”

Jeff instinctively patted both girls’ hair down. “I was trying to fix my roof. Some of the iron had lifted. I told them to stay inside.” He shook his head. “It would have got them. It was right where they were standing...” His voice got shaky. “Thank you.”

Everyone was quiet for a bit as the storm raged. The sound of it, my god. It was deafening. There was no point in talking now.

Jeremiah opened the box and carefully lifted the bundle of towel out. I almost didn’t want him to open it. If the bird was dead, letting the young girls see wouldn’t be good.

He pulled the towel back and the bird just lay there. Not soaking wet anymore, but it looked lifeless. Jeremiah stroked the feathers down its neck and its beak opened. Dear god, it was still alive.

I smiled at Jeremiah, and he smiled at me before he began gently rubbing the bird over with the towel. But before it got more stressed, he bundled it back up and popped it back in the box.

Then we all sat there in silence, each huddled to our person, as the cyclone battered us. A constant roar, incessant banging, howling, the sounds of metal and steel straining.

I expected the roof to rip off at any second. Or the walls to break apart, or something to slam into us. Every cell in my body was laced in fear, prepared, locked in fight or flight mode; the adrenaline was exhausting.

Jeremiah and I had our arms around each other, holding on tight. The girls were crying, screaming at every loud bang. Doreen cradled Suri’s head to her chest, and even Lindsey covered her ears.

Then, after an age, the radar, the last remaining light on the dashboard, blinked off and back on. Our one last hope at communication.

I could feel Jeremiah hold his breath as he waited for the inevitable.

His head went to my shoulder, I rested my head against his, and no one spoke.

Just scared eyes and flinches every time something banged, or thunder clapped, or lightning boomed.

Then the radar blinked again, off and on, then off again, only this time didn’t come back on.

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