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BJ remained where she was for a minute, thinking she’d heard someone call out to her. She wasn’t able to see the person, but she did see the cop car beside the barn.
Without warning, quarter-sized raindrops pelted her. She zipped up the sweatshirt, flipped the hood over her head. Sprinting toward the dirt road, the wind blew the hood back. No time to tie it down. She changed direction, and plowed into the thick maze of Joe Pye weed. Above the sounds of the storm she heard someone chasing after her.
* * *
Jacob reached the dirt road in time to see her before she disappeared. The sky had grown significantly darker. He glimpsed at the spooky woods hoping like hell she didn’t want to go in there. Forever terrified of the place he had stayed away. Running forward, he kept his eyes on the spot where she turned off.
Arriving at the area where he was pretty sure she had ducked in, he focused on the thick-stemmed weeds. The wind moved some of them in one direction, while a few weeds were shoved another way.
It’s her. She’s heading for the state highway? But why?
A deafening thunder boom.
Rapid lightning strikes helped him see that she hadn’t changed course. He remained on the road, running parallel to her. Nothing stood in his way, unlike her with weeds and brush to contend with. Jacob was confident he’d be the first to arrive at the end of the road.
Heavy rain transformed the dirt road to a slippery sheet of mud. His feet went out from under him, and he fell flat on his stomach. Instinctively wiped his face, realizing too late his hand was dripping with mud.
“Damn you,” he shouted, shaking a fist at the sky.
He ran to the barn, the storm in a furor by the time he reached his car. When he opened the driver’s door a gust shoved it backward, nearly ripping it off the hinges. He hopped in. White smoke spewed out of the tailpipe as he gunned the engine. Rear tires spinning on saturated ground, it took a moment or two for them to gain traction.
He slithered across wet grass to the front of the house, then leaped onto the road. He drove dangerously fast toward the highway for about a mile. Eased off the accelerator, and rolled to a stop. Put the gear shift in Park. Sheets of rain blurred his view outside the windshield.
* * *
BJ hobbled through the semidarkness, carefully finding her way out of the overgrown brush. She winced as hard rain stung her face like pins and needles. Suppressed a moan each time pointed twigs got caught on her hoodie or shoelaces and caused her to stumble.
This is stupid.
She changed course. Going west, keeping the roof of the house in sight, she aimed for her car. Feet pounding the ground, mud splashing on her legs, she ran faster.
A sharp pain in her side stopped her. She bent forward, clasped her kneecaps, drew in lungfuls of air. Alma needs to stop smoking. She raised her head, questioned her surroundings. Shot straight up. Somehow she’d made it to the rear of the farmhouse.
Sheltered from view by the weeds she inspected the place from top to bottom. Rain blurring her vision made the house appear in motion. Her attention was drawn to an upstairs window. She’d swear one half of a set of see-through curtains had been pulled aside. She was sure it wasn’t that way a second ago. Emerging from the tangle of weeds and into an open area, the set now hung straight and motionless.
Jeebus.
On the run again, she tripped over a bent weed stalk and splashed mud on her eyes. Using the rain to wash away the dirt and grit, the wind blew with enough force BJ felt her heels rise up off the ground.
The barely audible sound of severe weather alert sirens broke through the cacophony.
She watched the darkening sky for the swirling and dipping finger, the start of a tornado. Standing in a field trying to spot a tornado, before it suddenly dropped out of the sky and swept her up, was insane. Getting in her car and trying to outrun a tornado was doubly insane. She looked at the upstairs window again. Uneasy about going in the house, she ran to the outhouse.
Any port in the storm!
Shelter in sight, she dashed in. Rainwater puddled at her feet. The small cubicle, with only a crescent moon carved into the door to let in the light, was near pitch black.
BJ fought the urge to panic when claustrophobia began to set in. Her imagination kicked into overdrive. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and legs when she allowed herself to think about what might be sharing the confined space with her.