Most people relax on the weekend. Mother Nature doesn’t care so we are on call twenty-four seven. It’s Sunday afternoon and we have been busting our asses every single day since we hit the road over a week ago. Right now, it looks as if we are in the middle of something awful. Doppler is a swirl of dangerous red and dark orange and I can tell Hunter is starting to get nervous. It’s raining and dark. I have my eyes glued to the sky. Hunter is ten and two at the wheel, her keen eyes focused ahead.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she says. I nod, still looking at the sky. Somehow we have managed to squeeze the car in between two wall clouds that could drop twisters at any moment. For the first time, I hope I’m wrong. If we get flanked by tornadoes, the best we can hope for is that they don’t merge and swallow us whole. Merging tornadoes is rare, but knowing our luck today, it will probably happen. Maddox is getting restless so I know shit is about to go down.
“There.” I point the video camera to the left to capture the event. I call it in on the CB and dial the local news station. I use hands free and let Hunter speak because I’m trying to get photos from inside the car. We are trying to gather pressure readings and temperature shifts of tornadoes, but photos and videos are just as important. The wind is fierce and the car is getting rocked around. Hunter gives them our location and, while we are still on the phone, Hunter points to the right of us. Son of a bitch. Another twister. She calmly reports that one as well, mentioning the names of the gravel roads we are zipping past so that people in the storm’s path head to safety right away. We have twisters on both sides of us and a wicked storm pushing us forward. Hunter hangs up, steps on the gas, probably hoping to get ahead of them. I don’t know what I should be doing besides pray. I’m actually shaking. The video camera on top of the Tahoe is recording the left tornado, so I remotely turn it to video the right one, too. I don’t think we’re going to outrun this storm.
“Hunter, we are going to have to find a safe place,” I say. Her hands leave the wheel for a moment as she holds them up in a surrender to indicate that we are in the middle of nowhere and that really isn’t an option. I know this, but I feel like one of us has to at least voice reason even if we don’t really believe it. There are gravel roads to our left and right, but shouldn’t chance changing directions. Plus, with the speed of this storm, we would get caught if we tried driving on a gravel road, or worse, wreck. Right now, lefty tornado and righty tornado are headed in the same direction as us.
“This is incredible.” I don’t know how else to explain how I’m feeling and what I’m seeing.
After several minutes of not-so-quietly panicking, we are able to put a little bit of distance between us and the tornadoes. The speedometer is rocking out at eighty five and Hunter shows no signs of slowing down. I’m glad she’s driving. “If you slow down a bit, I might be able to get clear video if I lean out the window.” I turn to watch out the back of the SUV. “Oh, Hunter, stop! Righty Tornado is turning left and is crossing the road behind us. I want to get this.” She slows down and pulls off of the road. I jump out, almost choking myself on my seat belt, and video both tornadoes. They aren’t massive at this point, but clearly destructive, if the chunks of metal and pieces of wood thickening the tornado shafts are any indication. After gathering enough video and feeling miserable because I’m now soaked to the bone, I hop back in the car and Hunter squeals back out onto the road.
“That was a little too close for comfort. Check Doppler,” she says. I check and see the rotating mass heading northeast.
“I bet they merge. Oh, God, Hunter, if they merge that could be bad.” That rarely happens. There aren’t many recorded instances of merging tornadoes. “I hope people are safe and in their basements.” Once we know the storm is to our left and we’re a safe enough distance away, Hunter finds a county road and heads north to intercept it again.
“Let’s find out if the tornadoes merged,” she says. Her thirst for adventure is insatiable. I want a hot bath, a cold beer, and a soft bed right now. I’m exhausted and I’m not even the one driving.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” she asks.
“We almost got our asses kicked and you want to go back for more? I’m completely spent. I want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.”
“Can you honestly say you don’t want to see if they join? This is the shit we talk about all of the time. We’ll keep a safe distance. Keep your eye on Doppler. We can head north, then east and see if they come close. They might just go back up.”
She’s right. I want to know. We’ve been doing this a long time and it would be a shame to just tuck our tails and run. “Okay, but at the first sign of trouble, we turn.”
The rest of the afternoon is spent chasing the storm, but we never see both tornadoes at the same time again. After thirty miles, we give up. It eventually dies down and Doppler only shows green. We all need a break and dinner. Hunter gets out with Maddox and instructs me to find the nearest, cleanest hotel or motel. It is about thirty minutes away and I take over driving. This is probably the longest half hour drive of the season. We pull up to a rather quaint L shaped hotel and I ask for the room on the corner. It’s available. It’s easier to sneak Maddox in when we are far away from the office. Not all motels are pet friendly. He’s had to stay out in the car before, but tonight we all could use a soft bed. Hunter grabs our bags and we shuffle like zombies into the room. I have the handheld video camera and the laptop, but I’m too tired to do anything. I almost don’t want to eat, but I know we have to. Hunter finds a pizza joint and orders a fully loaded pan pizza. I’m asleep before she hangs up. I don’t even hear the door when the delivery guy knocks on it. Hunter gently shakes me awake.
“Eat this.” She hands me a paper plate with a greasy piece of pizza on it. Maddox leans over me to graciously take Hunter’s offering, but I put my hand up between his mouth and the delicious smelling slice.
“That’s mine, boy. You can have my crusts.”
“I already fed him his food.”
We learned a long time ago, the hard way, to not feed him greasy food. It makes for a very uncomfortable and unpredictable car ride the next day. He looks at me guiltily, his sad brown eyes bouncing back and forth between me and the pizza. I tear off the crust before I’m done and feed it to him.
“You know how to play me, Maddox.” He licks my face. I’m sure the crumbs he finds are a bonus.
“Can I just say how incredible today was?” Where in the hell does she get her energy? I’m trying to figure out how to take a sip of Coke without actually sitting up in bed and she’s pacing the floor in front of me. “How many tornadoes did we see total today? Like four, right? That’s crazy. I can’t wait to watch the video.” I can’t wait to go back to sleep. “I wonder if anybody else got video? You should jump online and check.” That gives me an idea. I can make casual inquiries about Kate to the group. Maybe I can get more information about her. I reach out for my laptop and fire it up, logging into our community website. It’s littered with our colleagues’ posts of seeing today’s tornadoes. Some have even uploaded their videos already and I’m anxious to show Hunter some of them.
“Oh, look. Here’s the video from Cedar Rapids. Gage must have uploaded it.” Hunter plops down next to me. We laugh because we can tell it’s his first time filming one. I have to look away for a moment because it’s so shaky and I’m starting to get nauseous. Hunter and I always use a tripod or monopod for this very reason. Seeing a tornado in person is terrifying and beautiful and it’s hard to keep a steady hand with winds and destruction so close. Eventually you learn tricks on how to keep your balance. Criticism aside, it’s a wonderful tornado.
“Listen to how stupid excited they are,” Hunter says. I can’t help but smile when I hear Kate’s animated voice. Even thrilled, her voice is raspy and sexy. I wish I would have been able to engage her more in conversation.
“Maybe we should give them a few pointers on how to shoot,” I say.
“Definitely. You know it’s just a matter of time before everybody else out there gives them crap about it.” I find Gage’s user name and send him a quick note congratulating him on getting the video, then mentioning a tripod. To my surprise, he instant messages me almost immediately.
Yeah. Some of the guys have already teased me about it.
Well, be proud because you are the only one who got it.
We chat for a little bit longer and I’m tempted to ask about Kate, but I decide to message a few other people who might know her and would be more discreet. I know one of the top dogs in the Meteorology department at OSU so I shoot Clive Lawrence an e-mail about their new team. I ask about Kate in a very vague, roundabout way. Even if he calls me on it, I know he will keep our conversation to himself. Before I’m done reviewing some of the tornado footage from today, I get a response back from Clive.
Tristan,
So are you ever going to work for us here at OSU? Ha. Yes, our department decided to send out more chasers to give our meteorology students the opportunity to see what it’s like out there. We picked six of our top students to participate. Kate Brighten is very smart, but keeps to herself. She doesn’t talk a lot unless it’s about weather. I think she has a younger brother who attends OSU, but don’t hold me to it. If you get a chance to pick her brain, do it. Her ideas and theories are exceptional and that’s why she’s our number one. I hope we can talk her into staying after graduation.
Clive continues on about chasing this season, but I’m re-reading the part about Kate. I’m glad she’s not just quiet around me. I wish he would have given more information, but I squirrel away what he’s given me. The rest is up to me to gather.