TATER

He felt his little brother’s arm slip around his waist, and he looked down into depths of those large, chestnut eyes.  so large on that 5 year old face, an angelic, alabaster complexion, sprinkled with a constellation of fine brown freckles.  He saw fear there, and he ruffled the mop of brown hair.

I will get you home safe and sound, okay?

I’m not a baby.  His reply, more a question than an affirmation.

No, I think you’re pretty brave, especially for your first hailstorm.

His little brother looked out at all the hailstones in the grass.

You think we could pack em together and make a snowball?

I don’t think so, but you might make an ice ball.

His little brother was curious about snow, and had only really seen it on television, it being far too warm most winters to see anything but the occasional flurry.

He looked up at the sky again, as his brother bent down to examine a few chunks of ice.

It’s already melting.

He mumbled a reply, but was transfixed by the sky.  The hail had stopped, the gusts had quieted a bit, and the heavens had turned an eery shade of pea green.  He reached for his brother but was interrupted by an ear splitting moan, shrieking from the school roof.

His brother grabbed at his shirt, and practically scaled his body.

WHAT’S THAT NOISE!?

Duck and cover.  Duck and cover.

AIR RAID SIREN!

He ran to the doors of the school and tried them.  Locked.

He looked at the safety glass and his next idea was rendered useless.  He looked out at the storm clouds and noticed the rotation that was coalescing into a frightening spiral.  Duck and cover.  His heart pounding, his mind screaming RUN, he clutched his little brother to him and frantically tried to remember his mother’s tornado stories.

Duck and cover.  Seek low ground, she had told him.  A roadside ditch, a hollow, anything.

RUN!

He yanked his brother into motion, and made a bee line for the subdivision construction site their parents had forbade them to play in.  He smelled ozone, felt like someone had sucked out his breath and popped his ears, as they experienced the massive pressure drop in the atmosphere.  He could see the funnel cloud reaching down like a pudgy finger, and could hear the ripping clatter of destruction and debris, even though it seemed far enough away to outrun.

Perhaps he could of made it home in time if he were by himself.  His brother’s little legs were already tiring by the time they made it to the site.  He quickly scanned the area, and ran towards the nearest poured foundation.  He scrambled down the wall of muddy  earth, pulling his brother down behind him.

I wanna go HOME!

His brother was crying now, the tears creating muddy deltas on his freckled cheeks.

We can’t make it in time!  Get down here!  NOW!

He could hear the nauseating fury of the twister as it raced and skipped towards them, a swirling black mass of debris, a freight train of sickening decibels, as if someone had poured a bucket of marbles down a disposal and amplified it.  He  witnessed a tree ripped from the ground like a handful of dry grass, and burst into a cyclone of splinters and leaves.

He pushed his brother down into the crevice between the earth and the cement foundation and threw himself over him.  Both of them a cocoon, curled into fetal position with their hands over their heads, just as the filmstrips at school had instructed them to do during a nuclear attack.  He heard his brother whimpering, and felt his sobs.  He wanted to join him but knew he must be brave.

Time was suspended, as he waited for the tornado to finish  them.  His mind like a silent 8mm film, was reliving moments from his 9 year old life.  He remembered exploring plum creek with his sisters, as they pretended to be Daniel Boone.  He remembered the family trip to Colorado, and the grandeur of Estes Park.  He remembered snuggling in his parent’s bed with the whole family, as daddy read “Twas the Night Before Christmas”.  He remembered the day his mother came home from the hospital with his brand new, pudgy cheeked, baby brother.  How elated he had felt to have a brother to share his room with, and take the edge off his bossy sisters.  He thought of Susie, his beagle/hound mutt, and all the times she had comforted him after a whipping, or a fight, when he dare not show his tears to another soul.  He imagined his mother was with them in this dark place, cradling and comforting them, telling him to be brave.  He hoped that if one of them had to die today, God would choose him and not his baby brother.

He cried along with his brother now, and put his mouth close to his ear.

I love you.

He took his hand and held it as the roaring fury seemed to overtake and consume their hiding place.  He closed his eyes, and his mind.  He felt the warmth spreading down his legs as his bladder let go, and then darkness.

To be continued...