So that happened. Guthrie had kissed Luke. It was dumb. Like… like super dumb, and he didn’t know why he’d done it. Other than adrenaline and thankfulness and the very real need for a distraction.
Guthrie couldn’t think about it. They had a job to do. An important one. If he dwelled too much, he’d wriggle onto Luke’s lap and they’d miss the whole tornadic shebang for some banging of their own.
Guthrie loaded the ENG camera into the back seat and threw his headset around his neck. He unlocked the gate for Luke to drive through, then closed and locked it behind him.
When Guthrie jumped back into the front seat, Luke said, “Is that thing on?” He pointed at the headset.
“No. I’ll call them back once we’re through the pasture. I don’t want KTTY to know about our shortcut because—”
Luke grabbed his chin and kissed the words from his lips. This wasn’t like the drive-by kiss that Guthrie had laid on Luke. No, this one had legs. Luke held Guthrie by his chin, and Guthrie’s fingers delved into Luke’s beard. Luke’s lips were soft and insistent. Perfect. It was perfect. A moan worked its way up Guthrie’s throat, but it got lost in the heat of Luke’s mouth.
Without warning, Luke pushed Guthrie back into his seat—he’d been climbing over the gearshift to get closer. Then they were off, bouncing through the field.
“This isn’t over,” Luke said, a growl in his voice.
“Okay,” Guthrie said faintly.
“Has any of your mom’s land been hit?”
Guthrie had to get his head back in the game. “No. Those trees are on her property line, and it was north of them.”
“Good.” Luke was breathing hard, and Guthrie wanted to press a hand to the rising and falling chest. He didn’t, but he wanted to. Maybe he was learning restraint after all. After a few seconds, Luke said, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? It was just a kiss.” Guthrie snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes, and banged his head against the headrest. He was not keeping his cool at all.
“I mean with the tornado chasing. And the stuff with Slim.”
“Oh yeah. That. I’m okay.” The kiss was taking up most of his mental space at the moment.
Guthrie pointed to the gate on the east end of the pasture. This shortcut had whacked a full five minutes off their route, even with the kissing beforehand. He’d keep it a secret from the station, though. It wasn’t a good look for KTTY vehicles to go cavorting through private property, despite the fact they had permission. Luke pulled up to the gate, and they did the whole unlocking, opening, closing, relocking dance again.
Once Guthrie was back in the truck, he immediately reactivated his connection to the station to inform them of their location. They jumped on Roedown Road, heading east. Their view of the tornado was still obscured by trees.
Chaser Chat was going wild with updates. Johanna and Dee had a perfect shot of the tornado, and their coverage was fabulous. Unlike Guthrie, Johanna preferred to drive and report at the same time, which freed up her partner, Dee, to navigate and handle the different cameras. Guthrie could hear Seth’s voice in his ear. He was being his normal empathetic yet reliable self.
Guthrie studied the radar on his various phone apps, then switched to the navigation software on the laptop to double-check their alternate routes.
“These trees will clear up in half a mile, and if we book it, we should have an unobstructed view of it,” Guthrie said. As it was, they could see the top of the funnel but were too close to the trees to track the tornado easily. At least they knew it was in front of them, not beside them.
Luke sped up slightly, but not as much as some chasers would have. He was such a careful, conscientious driver. Guthrie appreciated that about him. The most dangerous part of storm chasing was not the tornado or high winds or hail. It wasn’t the projectiles that could slice you in half. It was other drivers.
Guthrie watched words scroll by on Chaser Chat. “Johanna’s at a dead end and having to circle back. None of us have a shot. Delilah Sanchez is on her way in the chopper for a different viewpoint,” he told Luke.
A spatter of rain hit the windshield. It wasn’t a downpour, but it came out of nowhere, making them both jump. They were nearing the end of the tree line, and Guthrie’s heart rate spiked. He had no idea what to expect on the other side of those trees. It could be a dying tornado, or it could be a tornado gaining speed, momentum, and violence. He didn’t like not knowing.
Luke gasped as the trees thinned, and Guthrie’s breath lodged in his throat, causing him to cough and sputter. Through the choking, he managed to say, “We have a shot from the dashcam. It’s now a cone tornado.”
Seth immediately pitched to Guthrie. Cutting through Rose Rock Ranch had given them an advantage. There were no other chasers on this road.
Guthrie took a sip of water to relieve the scratchiness in his throat. “We are currently driving east on Roedown Road, which turns into County Road 3120 on the other side of the Canadian River. We are about half a mile from the Canadian River. We just passed a cross street called North River Road. The next cross street is”—Guthrie checked his map to be sure—“Rockford. I repeat, this tornado is heading toward Rockford. It will be less than half a mile north of the intersection of Roedown Road and Rockford very shortly. It is moving east-northeast. If you are in the vicinity, please take shelter. This tornado has developed into a cone tornado. It is northeast of us and moving slowly.”
It started to rain harder, and Luke flipped the windshield wipers to a higher setting. They were drawing even with the tornado from the south, which wasn’t ideal for the dashcam. They needed to stay behind it for the best shot. Luke slowed to a crawl.
“Can you describe the landscape, Guthrie? Have you seen this tornado hit any structures?” Seth asked.
“I don’t believe it has, at least not since it came back into our view. We are in a very rural area.”
Luke snapped his fingers and pointed.
Guthrie held in a groan. “However, it does appear to be approaching a barn. Hopefully, it will skirt the barn to the north.”
It didn’t. They watched as the old—and Guthrie hoped, abandoned—barn collapsed like a stack of matchsticks.
“Oh no.” Guthrie’s pulse pounded in his ears. He checked the navigation software again. They were fine. Plenty of roads on which to turn if needed. “The tornado has hit the barn and is moving closer to the Canadian River.”
Seth took it from there, reminding viewers which towns and townships could expect the tornado to be in their neighborhood and what the projected timeline was. Guthrie could picture the towns listed in a box at the bottom of the Doppler radar screen. It’d say something like, “Union City 8:01 p.m.” On the next line would be Mustang or Yukon, both of which were higher population centers.
Guthrie didn’t want to witness a tornado hit a big town. Or any size town, really. They’d gotten lucky so far with this one. It’d missed the center of Minco and had traveled through a bunch of fields. That could change quickly, and Guthrie wasn’t prepared.
Wind seemed to be blowing directly into Guthrie’s ears. It took a few seconds for him to realize he was hearing the literal tornado, not a psychosomatic noise due to his own stress. Luckily, the KTTY Storm Team 7 chopper had reached the scene and Seth swung to Delilah’s feed and away from Luke’s dashcam.
They continued to follow the tornado from the southwest. Guthrie’s breathing was too loud, but he couldn’t stop it. He had one hand wrapped around the oh-shit handle and the other clenched in his lap. Luke reached over and grabbed that hand, giving it a squeeze.
Guthrie managed to wheeze, “Both hands. Wheel. Please.”
Luke laughed softly, and the sound cleared some of the fuzziness in Guthrie’s brain. He managed a slow breath. Luke put both hands back on the steering wheel.
Guthrie unclenched his hand and awkwardly patted Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s body was warm through his T-shirt, and Guthrie wanted to keep touching him. He wanted to ignore the big “fuck you” from Mother Nature taking place in front of them.
Luke tensed. “I think it’s getting closer to us.”
Guthrie snapped his gaze back to the tornado. “It is,” he said, raising his voice. “It’s turning south. Slow down. Be prepared to back up.”
Tornadoes were unpredictable, but he’d expected this one to move east or northeast like most did. Stupid. He was stupid.
It was heading straight toward them.
Fuck, they were too close. Guthrie desperately tried to make sense of the maps in front of him, but it was gibberish, bouncing around on the page. He didn’t know where their best escape route was anymore. Luke pulled into the left-hand lane and threw the truck into reverse, creeping backward. Theirs was the only vehicle on this road for miles—thank God for flat landscapes.
Luke stretched an arm over the back of Guthrie’s seat and looked over his shoulder as he reversed. It was so skillful. So competent. He was cool as a cucumber while Guthrie was freaking out on the inside. This all felt too familiar. They were too close.
Too close.
Seth said, “Let’s go back over to Guthrie Gale and Luke Masters. Guthrie, what’s happening on the ground?”
“The, uh. The tornado’s path has changed. It appears to be, umm. It’s heading south. It’s coming toward us, so we’re backing up to give it some room.”
Guthrie shook his head and tried to regulate his breathing. He was already stumbling all over his words.
“Yes, there it is,” he continued. Luke was still backing up, moving faster. A tree branch flew past their window. “We are in the updraft zone. The tornado is pulling debris from near our vehicle into the funnel.” To Luke, he said, “Faster.”
“I got you,” Luke said.
The rain increased, making it harder to see the tornado. Guthrie tried to keep talking. Tried to keep his voice calm when he was anything but calm. “The tornado’s shaped like a stovepipe, straight up and down, rather than a cone. Yes. Uh, it’s crossing Roedown Road directly in front of us.”
They rolled over something, making the truck bounce and jostling the laptop on its stand.
Seth said, “What was that? Guthrie, are you okay?”
Through gritted teeth, Luke said, “Fence post.”
“We hit some debris in the road, but we’re fine,” Guthrie explained. “Can you still see our feed?”
“Yes. It flickered for a second but it’s back,” Seth said.
The tornado zipped across the road in front of them, too close for comfort. Luke gunned it, going backward at a fast clip to get to safety.
“Oh God. This is….” Guthrie searched for a word, his heart beating so hard he could feel it on the back of his tongue. “A lot.”
Once they were safely out of the updraft zone of the tornado and debris was no longer flying by them, Luke pulled to the side of the road and parked. The tornado swept up a thicket of trees, turning them to wood chips. Huge chunks of debris spiraled in the funnel. Guthrie tried to guess at what they were.
Maybe a signpost or a propane tank. Maybe a pine tree or a car door.
The twister changed course again.
“The tornado has zigzagged slightly. It’s moving east now, rather than due south,” Guthrie said, remembering he was still being transmitted to viewers at home. “It’s a few hundred yards from the Canadian River.”
Luke pulled to the other side of the road and angled the truck so the dashcam could track the tornado as it continued on.
Guthrie kept talking because it was his job to fill the silence on the broadcast. “The tornado is pulling away from us. Like I said, it will be crossing the Canadian River momentarily.”
Sarah prompted Seth to go back to the chopper. Seth said, “Thank you for that harrowing report, Guthrie. That was much closer than many of us prefer to get to a tornado, but we appreciate you being out there keeping us forewarned. And a big shout-out to Luke Masters, Guthrie’s chase partner, for that incredible driving.”
“Uh-huh,” Guthrie said dumbly. Once he was sure he wasn’t on-air, he turned to Luke and said, “Seth commended you for your fancy driving.”
“That’s nice.” Luke was watching him closely, which was when Guthrie realized he was shivering. He tried to rub some feeling back into his arms, running his palms up and down the gooseflesh covering his skin.
“What now?” Guthrie asked.
The sun was starting to sink below the horizon, painting the sky to the west in vivid pinks and oranges among the gray storm clouds. It was as beautiful as a watercolor painting. Guthrie stared at it, rather than the tornado wreaking havoc in the other direction.
Luke didn’t respond but threw the car back into drive. He pulled forward until they reached the spot where the tornado had crossed Roedown Road. There was a power line down in the street.
“We can’t drive over that,” Guthrie said. “It’s live.” He pointed at the barbwire fence. The power line was caught on a post and each gust of wind made it scrape back and forth, sending a shower of sparks to the ground.
“We’ll need to backtrack. Let’s figure out our new route. Will you do that for me?” Luke asked.
Guthrie nodded, thankful to have a task.
“I’m going to call in the downed line in the meantime,” Luke said. He pulled out his phone and called 911.
Guthrie focused on the map for a few minutes, studying the radar and watching the location reported from both Johanna and Delilah in the chopper. Luke got off the phone with the dispatcher.
“We should head west on Roedown Road,” Guthrie said. “Then we can get on a road going south in about a mile. From there we can either head east here or here, depending on where the tornado is.” He pointed out the roads to Luke on the map.
“Good plan.” Luke took a deep breath, like he was trying to center himself before taking off again.
Guthrie couldn’t help it. He lifted a palm to Luke’s jaw. “You did good.”
A wry smile crossed Luke’s face, and he nuzzled into Guthrie’s hand. “Let’s do this. We’ve worked too hard to lose the tornado now.”
“Okay.”
Luke wasn’t hyped-up and excitable. He was focused. Adept. Maybe a little competitive. It was obvious that Luke took this seriously. It wasn’t a game to him. He wasn’t treating it like a roller coaster ride but with the seriousness it deserved. Guthrie appreciated that more than he could put into words.
Maybe being Luke’s partner this whole season wouldn’t be that horrible. Maybe he could take a breath.
Guthrie dropped his hand from Luke’s face. Luke winked at him, which caused a mini-detonation behind Guthrie’s breastbone. He’d always thought winks were cheesy. This wink wasn’t cheesy. It was sexy. Like they had a secret.
Which they did.
Luke whipped the car around, and Guthrie took a moment to will himself back into a state of calm. It wasn’t easy.
They made their way toward the tornado as the sky darkened. It was that weird twilight hour where it was light enough to see, but the sun had set. It wouldn’t be long before visibility would be reduced to nothing.
Luke turned the headlights on. “I hate storm chasing at night.”
“You said that in the video. Our viral interview.”
“I know. It creeps me out.”
A burst of lightning corkscrewed high up in the clouds, and it illuminated the tornado in the distance.
“It’s a rope tornado again. Maybe it’s weakening,” Guthrie said.
“God, I hope so.”
They were too far from the tornado to get a usable shot, but Guthrie kept everyone updated on its location and size.
Luke sped up. He seemed determined to get to it before night settled completely.
He succeeded. They approached it from the southwest again, and Guthrie was punched by déjà vu. Hadn’t they just done this?
There were some major differences this time. Houses for one. Houses were scattered all over as the landscape turned suburban.
And the tornado, for another. It was weaker.
Seth pitched back to Guthrie for hopefully the final time that night. Guthrie described the tornado’s location, and they all watched as it wisped out, lifting from the ground before scattering into nothing.
“It’s gone,” Guthrie said into his headset. “It’s died out before reaching the outskirts of Mustang. There is rotation in the wall cloud and a small funnel, but to the naked eye, it seems to be flagging.”
They followed the supercell until Oklahoma City, where the storm flickered out like a birthday candle. The continuous coverage on KTTY ended, and Guthrie took off his headset. It was almost anticlimactic. He would take anticlimactic over climactic any day of the week, even if the energy and adrenaline in his body had nowhere to go. He felt like a live wire.
“Do you need to go back to the station?” Luke asked. “Or can we get food?”
Guthrie checked the time. If they could make it back to the station prior to the ten o’clock newscast, he’d be able to complete the package story that summed up their chase day for that show. If not, he’d do it first thing tomorrow for the morning broadcasts.
“Food.” It was nine thirty. There was no way they’d be able to make it to the other side of the city before ten. Plus neither of them had eaten in hours. “You pick the place.”
“Can I pick my place?”
Guthrie glanced at him sharply.
Luke shrugged. “What? I can make a killer sandwich.”
“I have to be back at the station by three in the morning for the four o’clock show.”
Silence filled the car, and Guthrie wanted to smack himself. Why exactly did he think his morning schedule relevant to this conversation? Luke hadn’t explicitly asked him to stay the night. Guthrie had assumed.
“Never mind,” Guthrie said.
Luke braked at a stoplight and turned toward him. “Your place, then. If we’re at yours, you won’t have to worry about making it back to your house in the middle of the night to shower and get ready for work. You’ll already be there.”
“So we’re doing this?” Guthrie asked.
Luke sucked in a shaky breath. “We can do whatever you want. If we talk, then I leave at eleven, that’s fine. If we don’t talk at all, that’s fine too. Or we can find a twenty-four-hour diner. Or a bar. Evidently I owe you a drink because I said ‘dude ranch’ one time.”
Laughter bubbled through Guthrie. “Finally caught that, did you? You lost by a lot. Not one point.”
“And you didn’t say y’all once. It was dumb of me to make the wager. Why would you say y’all when you’re only speaking to me and I’m a singular person? It’s basically a plural pronoun. Grammar got the best of me. We’re adding yup to your list next time.”
Guthrie wanted more of this. More flirting. More banter. It was a bad idea. He knew it was, but he was fired up. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He was too amped. Why not spend the adrenaline drop with Luke?
“My place.”
Luke grinned as he resumed driving. Guthrie couldn’t look away.