It's Uncle Cassius, calling me from outside the darkness.
I float up through layers of tired grays and blacks, up into a level of orange and yellow, and open my eyes.
He leans over me, gray-brown hair wild and glasses cracked. He sports a bandage on his forehead, a square one with a tiny spot of red in the middle. Despite that, he manages a smile. "You're okay, Allie. We all are. That was a close shave."
"Huh?"
I sit up. Canvas whispers and I realize I'm sitting on a stretcher. Tall grass towers around me, forming two walls of green and yellow. A pair of paramedics lean over another stretcher near the side of the highway. On it, Kyle sits up and stares at the horizon, his Wild Weather Storm Chase Tours shirt wrinkled and wet on the back. He looks lost, in shock. The blood has all drained from his face, but no bandages cover him. Behind him, police lights twirl and flash with the reds and yellows of a nearby ambulance. There's no sign of the storm that left us here. It's long moved out. The sun’s low and the shadows of the paramedics long. We've probably been lying here for hours.
It all rushes back. The barn. Those freaky people. The second tornado slamming into my chest. It must have just been a long, horrible nightmare. Or a near-death experience. A hallucination, maybe.
I’m really hoping for the nightmare. But it was so real, just like waking life. Just like now.
Uncle Cassius hugs me so tight that I can't breathe. I hug him back.
We survived the tornado. Both of us.
I can't cry. I can't even breathe a sigh of relief. All I can do is sag in my uncle's hug. “We’ve got to call my parents.” I don’t even care if I get in trouble now. I’m alive. We both are, and that’s all that matters.
Uncle Cassius releases me. “I already did. I told them you’re OK and that we’re going home tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” They’re going to murder me, but right now, I don’t care. Maybe I deserve it. I lied to them, after all, and put myself in danger. Uncle Cassius, too. "This was my fault."
"Don't say that," he orders, hugging me tighter. "It was just a freak occurrence. That's all. It was not your fault, Allie."
"But it was my stupid idea to do this whole storm chasing thing."
"I didn't have to tell you yes. Or help you save for the trip. Or sign your release form so your parents wouldn’t find out.”
I manage a laugh. He's right. "I was the one who lied to them, remember? Disney World was my story. I got you off the hook on that one."
Disney World. We should have done that. Mickey Mouse. The Dumbo ride. That stupid one with the teacups. No getting ripped out of vans by tornadoes, waking up kidnapped, or being held down to a table while…
No. A hallucination.
Just NO.
We break apart and I stand, stretching to get the stiffness out of my limbs. Sweat lingers on my back. I've been lying in the sun for some time. How long did it take for the paramedics to find us? And where's the--
"Don't look," Uncle Cassius says next to me in a tone that says yes, I should definitely check it out.
I turn to where he's pointing and gulp.
There’s a line of trees separating a couple of farm fields nearby. A mass of metal's wrapped around the first one, embracing it like a mutated boa constrictor. Green paint sticks out here and there like some abstract piece of art. Tattered rubber hangs down, the remnants of tires.
It's the tour van.
My stomach drops out of me.
We should all be dead.
Mutilated.
Missing limbs. And heads.
I run my hands down my arms to make sure they're there. "How?" I ask. I'm a bit lost for words.
Uncle Cassius stares ahead, past the van-turned-twisted-metal. He looks somewhere far away, disappearing inside himself. I've never seen him like this before.
"Uncle Cassius? You feeling okay?"
He starts, jarred out of his trance. "Yes. I am. Don't worry about me. I'm just a little shaken."
"You sure?"
He hesitates. "Sure."
"Positive?"
"Yes, Allie." His voice sounds stretched, tired. "I'm just worried about what you're going to have to deal with when we get home tomorrow."