I wasn’t about to point it out. Conflict was not my thing, so I adjusted a few settings on my camera and took pictures. Reading the sky, I focused on the promising signs of a tornado but angled my lens elsewhere. On trees bent from the wind on the horizon. On the swirling eddies of dirt in the distance. On the textured formation of the clouds. Catching them unaware, I took a few pictures of the team as they interacted and fought.
No one bothered me. Hell, like usual, no one noticed me. I moved through the world unseen, building a portfolio to develop when I got home. I changed the film at one point and kept going.
I was the first to notice a forming vortex. Aiming my lens, I took a few shots. The mesmerizing display of nature took me back to the first chase and my wonderstruck connection withGod. Again, I felt small and all too aware of my insignificance on earth.
Before I could point out the building phenomena, the group stopped arguing and, without warning, frantically dashed to their vehicles because Ozrik was right. We were too far away.
Fearing he would leave without me, I hustled to get in before Ozrik shot off down the road behind the others.
“Did you see it?” he asked.
“I was photographing it.”
He howled and pounded the steering wheel. His smile dug deep brackets beside his mouth. “I fucking love this.”
I could tell. He vibrated and crackled with energy.
Chasing storms meant lots of driving, stopping, and shouting above the wind. It meant reading the sky and making predictions. It was the true definition of a chase, but with an unpredictable foe. It meant constantly guessing and betting on the data.
Like the first time I’d gone out with Olivia and the team, the vortex never grew to fruition. It swirled and stretched and promised to descend more than once. We drove, stopped, and drove some more. No matter where we went, it was never the right spot. No matter how many wishes were sent skyward, they didn’t come true.
I moved with the ever-changing flow, remaining on the sidelines. I collected still images: bricks I would later use to construct a story. A story I hoped might interest the magazine. Avoiding the chaos of people and their opinions was easy and natural. I was used to hiding in plain sight. I took snapshots left and right and loaded new film into the camera as needed. The others filmed the storm and each other, giving Charles a taste of the adrenaline rush involved.
After a time, I joined them, staring at the sky as I thought about the past, the present, and the future. Who was I, and where was I going?
I silently prayed, asking for guidance.Show me the way. Where do I go? What do I do? Is there peace for me? Give me strength. Give me courage. Lord, give me hope.“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered to the heavens.
The wind beat at my face and ruffled my hair. I closed my eyes and thought of how small I was in the grand scheme of things. How insignificant.
I had so many questions about life, but my prayers seemed to get lost in the mail. I knew He listened. I knew He watched, but why wouldn’t He show me the way? Why did He leave me to flounder and suffer?
As the storm died, so too did the frantic chase.
Rain arrived. Night fell.
My turmoil remained.
Everyone was exhausted. The teams decided to call it and head back to the motel.
Tension rippled through everyone, and I suspected they were displeased with the outcome.
As I stared across a bleak horizon, lost in thought, doors slammed behind me. Sheet lightning flashed. The thunder never came. Lex and Olivia’s vehicles pulled away, their taillights vanishing down the country road.
Ozrik approached and stood beside me. He removed his headcam and fiddled with it—I assumed to turn it off—before stuffing it into a pocket, then he removed mine and did the same. I’d forgotten all about them.
“I hate these things. Fuck Charles and his fucking show. He’s ruining everything.”
Ozrik stared across the distant field, his nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale. After a minute, his shoulders fell, and he peered sidelong at me.
Rain speckled his face, and his hair suffered the aftereffects of the storm.
I couldn’t help smirking.
“What?”
Hesitantly, I reached out and pushed sodden strands off his forehead. “You’re windblown.”
Chuckling, he caught my hand and weaved our fingers together, dragging me closer until we were toe to toe.
