Roaring Gale

The breeze brushed against Grace’s skin with the gentleness of a feather duster. Her hand was resting on the knob of her front door as she looked up to the clear sky. At first, Grace mused about mundane things. Things like what to make for dinner for her and her boyfriend, Christian. But now, she felt uneasy. That unease worsened when she looked behind her. In the distance, dark clouds crawled along the sky like a predator. A storm was coming, but Grace pushed the warning signs away. Her instincts blared alarms through her body, but the oncoming storm couldn’t be so bad, right? With those thoughts, Grace opened the door and entered her house.

The living room was silent and clean, not a speck of disarray anywhere – except in the laundry room. Christian’s clothes and spare detective jacket lay scattered around the floor. Grace huffed a laugh and shook her head. Her beloved must have been running late.

She grabbed her cell phone to check the time. The phone remained black when she pressed the button to turn it on. Grace sighed, remembering that her phone was low on battery. With this knowledge, she left the laundry room and entered her bedroom where her charger was. Once she plugged the phone in, Grace returned to the laundry room and collected the clothes off the floor.

The scratching of a pen on paper had a soothing effect on Christian. Especially after closing a case he had been working on for four weeks. The robber was getting closer and closer to where he and Grace lived for his peace of mind. So he upped his game and caught him before he laid eyes on their small, one-story house.

Christian was finishing the last of his report when an alarm pierced the air. Its suddenness startled him, causing him to bounce in his rolling chair. The sound was coming from different locations in the building, one being his phone. He snapped his gaze to the screen and saw the words “Tornado Warning” flashing. Grace’s beautiful, cheerful face was the first thing to enter his mind.

In his panic, Christian snatched his phone and called his girlfriend. His heart sank like a broken ship when Grace's voicemail's cold, robotic voice greeted him. Christian ripped his cell away from his ear and shot to his feet. He grabbed his coat from his chair and plucked his keys from the desk. He turned to leave, but his partner, Reese, blocked his path.

Reese set a stern gaze on him, but Christian remained unfazed. He won’t let anyone or anything stop him from getting to Grace. He returned the glare with enough heat to set his paperwork on fire.

“You can’t go out there, Christian. It’s too dangerous,” Reese said.

Christian’s eyes hardened with resolve as he retorted, “I don’t care. I can’t leave Grace alone. I have to make sure she is safe.”

 Reese opened his mouth to rebuttal him, but the news report caught his attention.

 “The tornado has touched down near Clare Park, heading East at 20 miles per hour.”

‘That’s where Grace is,’ Christian thought as fear’s icy claws squeezed his heart at the realization.

Grace was putting the last lump of clothes into the washer and reached to grab the detergent. Watching the liquid pour into the measuring cup always brought satisfaction. But she couldn't continue watching without the soap overflowing. She stopped collecting the detergent and dumped it into the washer.

As she poured the detergent, the windows in the living room rattled. Grace turned to check what was causing them to shake like a leaf during a hurricane. She froze at what she discovered. The sky was dark, almost black as night. But it was three in the afternoon. Now that she was paying attention to her surroundings, she heard a roaring sound. It continued to rise in volume with each passing second.

The roar reminded Grace of a beast: starving and hunting for prey. It was deafening now. She sprinted to the window. Logs, trash, and bits of buildings flew around the sky like confetti. The roaring beast towered over her house like a god. It's proving its might by destroying everything in its path.

Grace’s eyes rivaled the size of plates, but her pupils were needle points. A tornado was outside, already so close it had flipped her car. In her panicked state, Grace twisted around and dove into the closet near the center of her house. It was too late to reach the basement. Once she slammed the door shut, the tornado began to feast upon her home.

“Mr. Stone, you can’t go out there. The tornado is heading this way,” said Chief Howard, chasing Christian. The young detective ignored him and continued his march toward the exit.

“I’ll tell you what I told Reese: I don’t care,” said Christian as he reached for the handle on the glass door. The front desk lady, Remy, snatched his wrist. He paused, turning his burning gaze toward her.

Remy flinched but held firm. “Please, Christian. I’m sure Grace is fine. Didn’t she say she had to stay late for work?”

“Yes, but she texted me an hour ago that she finished sooner than she thought. Now, let me go! That tornado hit where she is,” Christian ripped his arm from Remy and almost tore the door off their hinges. He heard protests from his friends and coworkers, but he ignored them. The wind made it easier to do so. He needed to get to Grace. Now!

He jogged to his car and struggled to open the door. He could hear the tornado approaching, but he didn’t turn to locate where it was. He waited until after he entered and plopped onto the car seat to check. The tornado was to his left, but when he drove to the parking lot exit, it was to his right. He was lucky he had to go the opposite direction to get home faster.

Once on the road, Christian pressed his foot on the gas peddle, going ten miles over the speed limit. When he made turns, his car slid over the baseball-sized hale. But the dread he felt in his gut prevented him from slowing down.

It took nine minutes to get to his house, but the sight that greeted him was devastating – his home lay in ruins. Grace’s car was upside down, mimicking a turtle. A tree smashed the path leading toward the house. Worst of all, their home was flat with jagged pieces of wood and stone.

He slammed the brakes and flung the car door open, leaving the car on. His fear propelled him forward, screaming Grace’s name to the heavens. He reached what remained of their small home, tossing parts of the broken foundation. He kept throwing chunks of wall and digging through the house while calling for his beloved. But no matter how many times he cried out, he was only met with the haunting silence of the ravaged landscape.

Christian continued searching, his heart pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. After an agonizing half hour, he found her. Cuts and bruises covered Grace, but the injury on her head worried him the most. Christian grabbed her wrist and checked her pulse. It was faint – but there. Grace was alive. Relief washed over him like a bucket of cold water on a summer day.

A sob escaped Christian, but he crushed the overwhelming emotion. He had to get the help Grace needed. He lifted his phone and called 911. He gave his location and mentioned the head injury to the emergency hotline. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Once the ambulance arrived, the paramedics did on-site treatment. They had to pull Christian away from Grace because he didn’t want to leave her side. But they had to check her head and make sure it was safe to move her to the hospital. It took a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Christian before they loaded Grace into the ambulance.

His steps pelted the torn ground, but his mind was sluggish. The world around him moved in slow motion. The voices of the paramedics were far away and muted like they were underwater.

The ambulance rushed Grace to the hospital with Christian seated in the back. He held her cold hand in his, waiting for a sign that his beloved would be okay. He stayed like this, doing his best to keep his breathing under control until they had to rip him from Grace again. He wanted to rush out of the ambulance, but he knew he couldn’t be by her side while they treated her.

The hospital was bright, forcing Christian to blink the spots out of his eyes. The floors and walls were so clean he could see his reflection. He sat in a padded chair in the waiting room, praying Grace would make a full recovery.

He sat there with his hand folded above his head for an hour. Christian heard his blood pound in his ear. It prevented him from noticing the doctor approaching. A gentle touch on his shoulder snapped him out of his worried haze. His eyes met the doctor’s, who stood tall, back straight.

“Mr. Stone, Miss Harley is now in recovery. She needed a few stitches for her head wound and a cast for her broken leg. Other than that, she only had cuts and bruises. You can go see her now,” said Doctor Brooks.

Christian nodded his thanks and followed the doctor to Grace’s room. She looked peaceful - like she was sleeping at home in her bed instead of the hospital’s brick beds. Did they have to be so solid? He wondered.

The chair beside the bed was metal, the kind Christian saw in schools. He would comment on how uncomfortable those chairs were, but being beside Grace was more important. He dropped onto the chair, causing it to screech back an inch. He flinched at the sound, but at least it didn’t disturb Grace.

He dusted his fingers against her hand before laying it on top. The warmth had returned, bringing joy to Christian’s heart. She would be okay. She was fine. But the nightmare had yet to end. Grace had to open her crystal blue eyes for the dawn to rise again.

A day passed, but Christian remained vigilant by her bedside. The nurses had come and gone, checking Grace’s vitals and reassuring him. But their words flowed around him, unable to penetrate the barrier. Hope and fear twisted around each other like the tornado yesterday. Grace had yet to make a single sound or twitch.

Finally, the hand Christian held tightened. He gasped, sitting ramrod as he watched Grace stir. Her eyes fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly. Those same butterflies entered Christian's overworked heart. But he didn’t care because happy tears leaked from his eyes. 

Grace rolled her eyes to meet his, causing his heart more palpitations.

“Chris, are you really here?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep but still angelic.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm here, honey,” he said, tone breathy, wiping away his tears.

Grace’s eyes welled up with tears of her own. “I thought I was going to die. I thought…” she trailed off.

Christian reached his hand up and brushed her tears away with his thumb. “You’re okay now. The nightmare is over.” His words opened the dam. Grace sobbed, but he knew they were from relief.

He helped her up and hugged her head to his chest. Once they got out of the hospital, Christian was taking them out to dinner. He was going to shower Grace with everything a girl could ever ask for. And at the end of the day, he would pop the question he should have asked months ago when he searched for a ring. After all, if a tornado couldn’t tear them apart, then nothing would.