Twist of Fate

Twist of Fate 

Sirens screamed past the window and returned a second later to shout another warning. Jamie pressed her fingers to her temples. Frame by frame, her gaze slid from the TV screen to the speckled glass. The Alabama sky crackled to life, illuminating angry puffs shifting and writhing close to the earth. Through the dots on the window, she saw debris swirl closer. In the darkened sky, a finger formed. Jamie watched in fascination as the finger reached down to touch the earth, punctuated by a brilliant flash, then slide back up again. Trees bowed low; their leaves shook like feathers, taunting the clouds above. The air outside began to moan. The pungent scent of dry earth and fish seeped inside, making her sneeze. Shivers slid down her spine, and her pulse jumped as she watched another finger tap the earth in an explosion of light. 

The man on the television told her to get into a safe place. Her eyes darted around the sparse beige room with a frown. A safe place? Where do I go? She jolted when the TV man supplied an answer. 'Get in the bathtub, a hallway with no doors or windows or any closet away from exterior walls.' Jamie looked out the window once more and felt the flesh rise on her arm as the tiny hairs stood to attention. She rubbed at the electrified flesh, but it did little to soothe. The clouds, engorged with flying debris, was just close enough to make out bits of twisted metal and broken tree limbs. Something shimmered then ducked back inside the dark cloud as if afraid to show itself. She watched, mesmerized, and bit her lip. She licked the wound; the metallic taste made her gag.

The spell shattered when something pounded the roof with such force Jamie thought it would splinter it like a toothpick. Her gaze shot skyward, heart hammering. Sirens yelled through the roar, swallowing her heavy breathing. Her mind wandered. I need to get gas. Maybe when the weather clears, I can go to the beach again. Is the building shaking? Oh, it's just me. Her gaze rolled around the virescent hued space looking at everything and nothing. The TV man shouts, 'Take cover now! Get a pillow or blanket and a bicycle helmet if you have it and find a closet, bathtub, or location with no windows.' Jamie jumped into action. She snatched her pillow off the unmade bed, retrieved her bicycle helmet from the closet, and called for her cat, Sophie. With her pillow hugged tightly against her chest, she clamored into the tub—her labored breaths deafening in the sudden hush. Her brows knit. She looked around her at the creamy walls of the tub. Ears pricked; Jamie peeked around the too cheerful swirls on the curtain. Birds were silent, and the wind had quieted. Unease made her belly quiver. Why is it so quiet? Sophie bolted through the bathroom door and bounded into the bathtub with a loud meow. Jamie's heart rate accelerated. 

"Oh Sophie. You scared the life out of me."

 Jamie pressed a hand to her chest and bent to rub between Sophies' flattened ears. The lights danced then blinked. Jamie looked up. Noise erupted around her as if the world suddenly caught up to itself. She plopped down hard in the narrow space. A roar slammed into the room; a noise like paper torn and splintering wood echoed down the hall. Jamie screamed and yanked the pillow down over her ears. Head between her knees, her eyes slammed shut, blocking the sight of Sophie huddled in her crotch. The walls shook. The wind blowing in her ears swallowed her shrieks. Please let me be okay. Please. Please. Her heart pounded against her ribs hard enough to break them. It was impossible to breathe. The air smelled of dirty rain. Glass shattered in the bedroom, making her limbs bounce. Her body vibrated from fear or the world around her; she couldn't tell. She scrunched tighter against the tub floor. Sounds of a train nearby confounded her. I didn't know there were train tracks near here. Her mind slid to the day she spent at the beach as the building rattled.

The building shuddered and seemed to hold its breath as the air whistled. Something sliced Jamie’s bare shoulder—the sting made her hiss. Jamie's fingers ached from gripping the pillow. Her ears popped. She felt something bounce on the fiberglass tub beside her. What was that? The rumble swallowed her scream, making it part of the clamor around her. She felt light-headed, dizzy, barely in control of her bladder. The world calmed once more and the sound of panting filled the claustrophobic space. Unable to move, she tried to calm her racing heart. She wasn't sure how much time passed before the alarms sounded anew. Her heart began a slow crescendo once more as the wail pulsed through her bones. This time she knew the shake did not come from her. Pieces of what she could only assume were the ceiling peppered her bare flesh. Noises she could not identify surrounded her. Her lips trembled and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard as the world bellowed.

For what seemed like hours, Jamie sat huddled under her pillow. Tears plopped onto her bare feet; her ample frame rattled beneath the downy pillow. Sophie huddled closer. Jamie felt her tiny form vibrate. She pulled the pillow edges tighter against her helmeted head. Her eyelids squished together so hard it was giving her a migraine. She didn't want to open them—was too afraid. A trembling finger released the pillow and slid into her ear then jiggled. Am I deaf? Everything seems so quiet. Her terror ratcheted up once more. Her grandmother's phrase, the calm before the storm, flittered through her foggy mind. Sofie's distressed and muffled meow made her eyes bounce open. Tears matted her fur. Her black as night tail stood out like a bottlebrush. Ears folded back, her wild green eyes darted around the biscuit colored walls of their prison, and she meowed between pants, the sound visceral. 

Jamie reached down and placed a protective hand on Sophie's back. She felt her small body pulsate. A warm yellow glow on the back of her hand made her breath hitch. She snatched it away and rubbed the warmed flesh. Jamie put her hand on the outside of the pillow and tugged. She startled when something warm touched her fingers. Flinging the pillow off, Jamie looked up into the blue sky and slivers of sunshine. Lifting Sophie, she stood and stepped out of the tub and walked to the door land looked where her room used to be. A voice called out, and she peeked over the edge of the threshold and saw her neighbor and her three children. Dust covered their faces. Bright red dots speckled their arms and legs, but they were alive. She smiled down at the single mother, and an understanding passed between them. A sympathetic knowledge only those who survived could understand. Jamie sighed. I am not alone. The storm had passed. By some twist of fate, her second-story bathroom remained untouched.