Gale shrugged, not looking particularly enthused.
“What else do you enjoy?”
“Writing.”
“Oh? Microfiction by chance?”
He smirked. “No.”
“Horror?”
“Short stories mostly, and I journal.”
“What kind of short stories?”
“Speculative fiction. Some fantasy.”
Everything about Gale was solitary. Photography, reading, writing. I wondered whether he had friends and went out, or whether he’d always been reclusive.
The wind gusted. I nearly lost my drink but caught it before it toppled. Gale slapped a hand over the empty paper bag that had once contained our food. We both glanced skyward as another rumble of thunder rolled over us, louder than earlier.
“Do you feel it?” Gale asked.
“What?”
“The cold threads of air against your face. It’s like they’re woven into the warm air. Like they haven’t quite blended together yet.”
I focused my attention on the wind against my cheeks and felt it immediately.
Movement at the far side of the motel caught my eye. Vern emerged from the makeshift command center with Olivia at his side. The pair spotted us and hustled over. One of Charles’s camera people, Hugh, followed hot on their heels. So much for a private meal.
“Incoming.”
Gale shifted, following my gaze.
“We should take off,” Olivia announced once she was close enough to be heard over the rising wind. I didn’t miss the confused crinkle of her brow when she realized I was dining with her brother.
“We’ve got multiple supercells on the Doppler,” Vern said, “and alerts are popping up everywhere. If we don’t get out there, we’ll miss the show.”
“How are we dividing our groups?” I asked.
Vern glanced at Olivia. Her braid whipped around her face. She displayed two plastic straws, one short and one long. “Last two. Everyone else has already picked. Short means you’re with me. Long means you’re with Lex.” She hid them in her hand and rolled them around each other a few times before presenting them for us to make a selection.
I motioned for Gale to do the honors, a little sad that we would be separated.
Gale shook his head. “I’m taking the Jeep.”
“No you aren’t. Pick one.” Olivia motioned at the straws. “The Jeep’s not a safe chase vehicle.”
“I don’t care. I’m going on my own. I’ll follow.”
“Gale, it’s not an option.”
The siblings exchanged a look: Olivia’s pinched with venom, Gale’s impassive and unwavering.
“It’s about aerodynamics, bud,” Vern said. “The Jeep is too high off the ground and prone to rolling. If we manage to get into the nitty-gritty of this storm, which is kind of the whole point, it’ll be a hazard.”
“Ten people in two vehicles is a hazard. I don’t want to be crowded. Either I take the Jeep, or I don’t go.”
