Free The Waiting Sky by Lara Zielin

When’s that going to happen, Victor?”
    Victor’s gaze snaps back and forth from the road to the map. “Shit!” he cries. “Hallie, go now!” Hallie hesitates for only a fraction of an instant. Then she slams on the brakes. I’m thrown forward so hard, my shoulder hits the seat in front of me. I hear Stephen grunt and Mason swear.
    “The hell?” Ethan asks as the van swerves and we’re suddenly going north on a road that cropped up out of nowhere. I right myself in the seat and blink. My shoulder burns from the impact. “What was that?”
    “I’m sorry,” Hallie says. “God, you guys, I’m so—”
    “You want to get to this storm or not?” Victor interrupts.
    “Not at the expense of people’s safety, I don’t,” Stephen says. He hands Ethan his laptop, which had been thrown onto the floor of the van.
    “So I’m putting people in danger again?” Victor asks. “Are you worried people are going to get hurt because I’m a constant fuckup? Is that it?”
    Stephen opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, then thinks better of it and simply goes back to the radar. From my seat I can see Hallie’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
    “Oh, no,” Ethan says suddenly. He makes me worry that maybe we’re too close to the storm.
    “
Now
what?” I ask.
    “Patchy Falls.”
    “What the hell is Patchy Falls?” Mason asks.
    I can see Ethan swallow, can see the way his muscles tighten. I feel mine do the same.
    “Patchy Falls is a
town,
” Ethan says. “And the tornado’s right on top of it.”

8
    T he world has gone dark, but the sinking sun has backlit the tornado, making our view of it literally rosy. Hallie parks the van on a small rise, and we all bolt out of the doors. The arctic air is biting.
    “Holy cold front, Batman!” Mason yells above the wind. He and Victor race to the back of the van to begin unloading the chasing equipment—most importantly, Polly.
    Victor kneels next to her, flipping switches and calibrating her devices. “What’s that new display?” Mason asks, pointing at a small screen.
    “She’s got self-monitoring capabilities now,” Victor replies. “Gets too wet, too hot, she shuts down. I think she flaked on that last chase because of the high humidity.”
    Mason punches the air. “Holy shit you’re a genius!” I zoom in on him to snap a few photos, capturing Mason’s open-mouthed glee. Then I move the lens to Victor. He’s stoic in the wind and noise, but I notice his hands are shaking. I wonder if every chaser gets so excited about storms, they tremble.
    Polly is barely up and running when Hallie points at the sky. “Look!”
    I train my lens on the distance. What look like splinters are swirling in the filmy air around the twister, except they’re probably tree trunks or limbs. Bursts of energy from exploding power transformers—or maybe it’s lightning—flare white-hot against the dark sky every few seconds. The wind is so loud, I can hardly hear my own thoughts.
    “I hope no one’s hurt!” I yell, then instantly regret opening my mouth. Once again, it’s filled with the dust and sand particles getting whipped up by the wind. I spit a few times into the dirt, trying not to gag.
    When my tongue is finally clear of grit, I snap pictures of Patchy Falls’ water tower and a short row of houses. The tornado spins behind them. I hit the shutter again and again, praying everyone in Patchy Falls has found a basement.
    I watch as the twister’s color starts to change from coal to a light blue.
    “It’s roping out,” Stephen says, his eyes on the churning sky. “She’s not going to last much longer.”
    I know this sucks for Polly’s readings, but I’m glad for Patchy Falls’ sake that the storm was on the ground for only a few minutes.
    Ethan’s got his hands on his hips, watching the tornado weaken. The howl all around us starts to quiet. “Did we get
any
solid data?” he asks.
    Mason’s studying Polly, his hair a shade darker thanks