chapter sixteen

chase

Maybe I’d read too many comic books, but I was beginning to suspect Meghan’s moods controlled the weather. Dark storm clouds rolled in above the animal shelter, where an all-day adoption event was in full swing. Meghan wore a subtle scowl the entire time, taking the backseat while I did most of the interviewing.

I wished she would’ve listened to Graham when he warned her not to read what people said about her article on that cesspool of a Facebook group. What started as a single post by a local woman lacking reading comprehension skills led to a record-breaking number of unsub scriptions from the paper. Everyone had their reasons—some of them saying Meghan’s article exploited Lenny, while others claimed her writing was “too progressive.”

We can’t even say HOMELESS anymore? The Times has become too WOKE for me! I don’t need a lesson on POLITICAL CORRECTNESS every time I open my paper!!

Lenny himself was delighted with the story—the cashier at Circle K told me he stopped everyone he saw and pointed at his picture on the front page of the Lifestyles section. That temporarily cheered Meghan up until Graham told her Silas wanted to see more feel-good stories out of us. Our CEO claimed the Lenny article was “bumming the town out.” He was inserting himself where he didn’t belong, as usual, and Meghan was not taking it in stride.

“There’s your fucking feel-good story,” she mumbled to me at the edge of the dogs’ play enclosure as a middle-aged woman let her new black labrador retriever lick the happy tears off her face.

I covered my forehead with my hand and stared down at the ground. “Meghan,” I groaned with a grin, nodding at the camera on my tripod. “I’m recording.” The shot would still be usable as voiceover footage, but our editor was going to have some fun reviewing my videos.

Meghan didn’t apologize, but she was quiet as I got some more footage. I kept rolling until it started to drizzle, hurrying to pack up my equipment before it got too wet. The WWTV meteorologist, Bernard, had been pretty hyped up that morning, which was never a good sign—especially when I had an outdoor event to cover. When I left that morning, he was frantically waving his arms in front of the chromakey, telling our viewers, “Everyone in our viewing area needs to be on high alert today, folks.”

He was simultaneously recording live on Facebook that day, which Meghan pulled up on her phone when we got in the car. “We’re under a tornado warning now,” she mumbled, barely opening her mouth.

“Then it’s probably safe to assume the picnic at the senior center is canceled, right?”

I hoped that would cheer her up, considering she’d grumbled about having to cover two outdoor events in a row. But she was still gloomy as ever, frowning as she watched Bernard pace from one side of the screen to the other with his weather map zoomed in on our county.

When Meghan remained quiet, I glanced out the window at the darkening clouds and said, “Doesn’t look too bad here. Do you want to grab a coffee on the way back? My treat, if you’ll let me.” I hadn’t seen her smile once that day, which was okay—but maybe an iced coffee could help turn things around. At the very least, it would give her a moment to breathe.

I was sort of counting on her to turn down the offer, but she let out a heavy sigh and flipped her phone over, saying, “Coffee sounds fine.”

Without hesitation, I took a right, driving us in the direction of downtown. Meghan slumped further in the passenger seat, pulling that pendant up to her face to rub it along her bottom lip, just like I’d seen her do a hundred times.

The short trees lining the Riverside drive-thru were blowing at a sixty-degree angle, making me second-guess the decision to roll down my window in the rain that was now falling more steadily. Not quite a downpour, but it was getting there. Keeping an eye on the clouds above, I opened my mouth to ask her what drink she wanted when our phones simultaneously sounded an alert, startling both of us. With mine tucked in a bag in the backseat, I waited for Meghan to fumble with hers, the color draining from her face when she read the words on the screen. “Confirmed, large tornado. On the ground.”

“Shit. Where?”

“Here!”

For a few seconds, I was paralyzed with fear and indecision, my hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

Meghan reached over to squeeze my arm with her left hand, staring at her screen. “It’s crossing the river now. Chase, help me think—where can we go to get a good shot of it?”

Was she out of her mind?! Ignoring her question, I drove right over the lipped curb between two of the trees in the grass which now looked like they might be ripped from the ground at any second. I sped down the alley behind the row of buildings, making a split-second decision about which way to turn when I got to the side street.

The library.

The library had a basement, and it was only two blocks from us.

“Where are you going?” Meghan asked, reaching for the handle above her head when I ran a stop sign. It didn’t matter. Not right now. Not when it was raining so hard we wouldn’t be able to spot the tornado if it were twenty yards in front of us. Meghan sat up straighter, twisting her body to look out the rear window. “Chase! Don’t you want to get it on video?”

“No, I honestly don’t,” I said, the front end of the car scraping the ground as we turned into the library parking lot. I had one goal, and it was to get Meghan somewhere safe. I parked diagonally between two yellow lines, but there was no time to correct it. “Are you ready to run?”

Meghan’s eyes grew wide. “No! Chase, we have to report on this—it’s our job!”

“Come on, Meg, no story is worth our lives. We can’t report anything if we get sucked up in a tornado, can we?” Tiny pellets of hail pelted the windshield. “Now, are you ready?” My fingers rested on my door handle, but Meghan wasn’t budging. Between the hail and the wind, I could barely hear my own words. “Meghan!”

“Don’t scream at me!”

“I have to scream because of the—” I rolled my eyes, knowing I couldn’t persuade her with words alone. I pushed open the door and ran around the front of the car as quickly as I could, nearly slipping on the hail accumulating on the concrete just as I reached Meghan’s door. “Fuck,” I muttered, yanking her door open.

“What are—”

Before she could get her words out, I leaned across her lap and unbuckled her seatbelt. Offering up: I was fully prepared to throw her over my shoulder and carry her inside, but the deafening crack of an oak tree limb falling in the courtyard ahead of us snapped her into action. I held out my hand, and she took it in hers without protest. I yanked her out of the car and shoved the door shut before running up the sidewalk with her, our fingers interlocked the entire way. When we made it to the small alcove by the main doors, I pulled on the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. Neither would the other one when I tried it.

"Are they locked?" Meghan yelled with panicked eyes, her hair plastered to her face in wild, wet strands.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I let go of her hand and grabbed the door handle with both of mine. The pressure fought against me, but I mentally counted to three to give it one more try. In the final second, Meghan’s hands joined mine on the handle. “Pull now !” I hollered over the sound of the wind and rain. And though we both grunted and pulled with all our might, the door still wouldn’t move. “It’s the pressure!”

Meghan smacked the glass, either trying to show it who’s boss or to get the attention of someone inside. Surely everyone was already downstairs, though. Just as I was beginning to contemplate how safe we’d be from a tornado in that little inlet, the door burst open.

“Get in, get in!” One of the librarians, a kindhearted old man whose name I could never remember, ushered us into the building. The door slammed shut behind us, and the three of us jogged toward the stairs to the archive department in the basement. The lights in the antique chandeliers flickered above our heads like something out of a horror film.

My wet shoes squeaked with every step down into the room below, where a few library workers and patrons had already gathered. A woman was seated on an ottoman with a little girl on her lap, pointing out the pictures in a book in an attempt to distract her from the chaos happening outside. Eyeing the little window at the top of the wall facing the library parking lot, I instinctively reached for Meghan’s wrist and pulled her the opposite direction. “Over here,” I said, leading her around the corner in the L-shaped room, where two loveseats faced one another in a sort of cozy reading spot.

The second we sank into one of the seats, the lights went completely out—and stayed out this time. The only light in our section of the room was from Meghan’s phone screen. “I have no service,” she said, giving me a desperate look. “I hate not knowing what’s going on out there.”

I just nodded, listening to the sound of heavy rain hitting the building. It seemed to come in waves. Beside me, Meghan slouched lower into the seat, burying her head in her hands with loud, panicked breaths. Without knowing what else to say, I whispered, “We’re okay down here.”

“I’m not worried about us. I’m worried about Lenny.”

Oh. With a soft, low, voice, I said, “Hey. That building is sturdy as fuck. Look how long it’s been standing, and how many storms it must have been through. Even a fire couldn't take it out. I’m sure Lenny’s safe.” As I spoke, Meghan lowered her hands from her face, and she began to slowly nod like she might actually believe me. God, I hoped I wasn’t wrong.

She hugged herself, checking her phone again, as though it might suddenly start working. Still nothing. She heaved a loud sigh, momentarily distracted by one of the librarians laughing about the little girl’s light-up shoes. The group around the corner didn’t sound nearly as concerned about the tornado as we were, but then again, they might have just been playing down their fear for the sake of the kid.

“I bet Wanda is terrified right now,” Meghan said, turning to me.

“Do you want to check on her when this is over?”

After giving me a little nod, Meghan leaned her body against mine, pressing her forehead against my shoulder. I inhaled, unsure of how I should react to her sudden display of intimacy. It was the closest she’d been to me in years, and I could smell her perfume, the spicy scent that once lingered on my pillow. Without thinking, I turned my head slightly, just enough for my lips to graze the wet strands of her hair. God, I could almost kiss the top of her head right now—the compulsion to do it was so strong, I had to force myself to stay still.

And then, in a moment of bravery—or maybe stupidity—I rested my hand on her knee and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. Before I could move my hand away, she placed hers on top, threading her fingers between mine. The breath she let out was one of relief, like this had a calming effect on her.

On the other side of that loveseat, my heart was beating so fast, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I dropped dead right then and there from cardiac arrest.

The moment would have been perfect if it weren’t for the knowledge that some neighborhood in Woodvale was probably getting shredded by a massive tornado.

The wind and rain had seemingly died down, and the commotion around the corner picked up—it sounded like a couple of librarians were venturing upstairs to check things out. Meghan lifted her head. “Should we go? We have work to do. I can’t let Xander get this story.”

I couldn’t help but smile, staring back into her eyes, mere inches from mine. “You don’t even know what the story is yet.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she looked deep into my eyes, her gaze lingering in a way that made my pulse race all over again. Her hand still rested on mine over her knee, and I knew it was only there because she wanted it there as much as I did. The realization floored me—because the Meghan from a few weeks ago would have been disgusted by my touch. Repulsed. But this version of her, the one whose pinky finger was lightly tracing the inside of my thumb, looked at me like I was someone she trusted.

Something between us had shifted, and I knew, without a sliver of doubt, she was feeling it, too.

She finally broke the silence. “Let’s go,” she said, pulling up to her feet. I followed her up the stairs, where the library staff was gathering around the main doors, repeating “wow” as they looked out at the fallen branches. “Thank you for letting us take cover in here, Diana,” Meghan said, waving at the library director before we walked outside.

It was only sprinkling now, and a bit of sunshine peeked through the clouds in the western sky. Other than the massive limb in the courtyard and branches scattered around the parking lot, the damage seemed minimal. “Maybe it missed us,” I offered.

“Or it was just really weak.” Meghan walked down the sidewalk, taking a big step to avoid getting her strappy heels wet in a puddle. She took a couple pictures of the courtyard with her phone. “Maybe this is the worst of it.”

“Hopefully,” I answered with my hands on my hips. It didn’t seem like there was much of a story here, at least not beyond what Bernard was already covering at the studio, so I didn’t bother to get my camera equipment out of the car.

Meghan’s phone rang. “Oh good, I have service!” She held the phone to her ear. “Hey, Graham.”

I bent over to pull a branch off the sidewalk into the grass nearby as Meghan spoke with Graham. One of the ladies inside the library held the door open and hollered a “thank you!” my direction. I winced, realizing they couldn’t see their courtyard from where they stood. Just as I lifted my hand to wave for them to come outside and take a look, I caught a glimpse of Meghan’s horror-stricken face.

“We have to get to Grissom,” she said, lowering her phone slowly.

“The elementary school?” I took a step closer. “Why?”

Meghan licked her lips, her eyebrows drawing together at the corners. “Because they just took a direct hit.”