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Ivy Kassal resolutely prepared a storm kit, made up of two flashlights, bottled water, several cans of beets, an opener for the fore-mentioned cans, and basic first aid supplies. It seemed to be an unnecessary precaution (the chance of a blizzard tonight was very, very slim), but her motherly instincts told her it was better to be safe than sorry.
Beside her, the twins babbled gleefully to their older brother over PBJ’s about the day’s may exciting adventures. The current tale of interest was of Ollie’s daring escape from the swingset after dumping sand down Monica’s dress. The latter, having forgiven her brother long ago, was just as enthusiastic in the rehashing of the story. Derek, bless him, managed not to fall asleep or do something else rude and teenagerish while listening. Ivy shook her head, amused, and turned up the radio a tad more. She was on the really lookout for a weather report, but the Bach being played was soothing and lovely, so she ended up hoping the music would be undisturbed.
Finished with the food and water, she picked up one of the flashlights, black, and pressed the button. It didn’t switch on. Dismayed, she turned to Derek. “Honey, do we have any batteries left?”
The 15-year-old shrugged, sipping a coke, eyebrows raised quizzically. “What size?”
She gestured with the light. “D’s.”
“Dunno . . . maybe, but I think the midgets used them in their radio. What, they’re dead?”
Over the loud protest of the ‘midgets’, Ivy sighed, and set the metallic flashlight on the countertop. “Yeah. I’m going to have to go out and get some, we’ll at least need them someday. Keep an eye on those two, all right? And an ear on the stereo, as well. First sign of trouble, you know what to do.” He shrugged again in response, and she grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair. She wasn’t actually that worried about the storm, if she was, she wouldn’t have left her children home alone.
Since last time she’d drove she had left the keys in her pocket, Ivy just had to grab an umbrella, and dash outside into the foul weather. The rain lashed the patio unrelentingly, collecting into shining, violent puddles. The furious wind drove it into sheets, getting the woman completely soaked. The umbrella was like a sad, sad joke, and the car a welcome shelter, even if it did smell vaguely of Happy Meals. She cursed the sky, started the car, and pulled out of the driveway. The radio, too, was flipped on, allowing some horrible pop music invade the small space. She quickly changed the channel.
Ivy really despised driving in the rain. Especially at night, when she had to go long ways. Normally, the trip would have only been two blocks long, to get to the grocery up the road, but the owner hated not just driving in it, but rain itself. Sheri Sideow had closed up shop around five that evening, when the first reports of a storm were announced on the radio. Consequentially, that meant Ivy had to ride all the way across town (though, with the size of this town, it wasn’t that far) to get the prized batteries at K-Mart.
The road was a black river of water, and she had to slow at every intersection/lake. Like most people in her mountain town, she had four-wheel drive, but she almost got stuck at least twice.
‘One hell of a storm.” she thought bitterly. ‘One hell of a storm.’
* * * * *
He raised a hand, blocking out the icy water that poured down in unrelenting sheets, muttering nastily as it smacked the concrete parking lot, whispering as it whipped the leaves of the trees. Duke didn’t know why he even bothered, trying to keep it out of his eye, he was soaked to the bone, ponytail matted to the back of his gray neck. Lightning stung the clouds above, and illuminated his form as he searched the impenetrable black. The duck didn’t know what he was searching for, really. A sign of his friends, having fixed the problem with all the ease of breaking through a primitive security system, maybe. Perhaps for Ferguson, returning with Mallory.
The thought of that tiny man trying to carry a bound, gagged, and enraged Mal of his shoulder lent Duke a chuckle, and he gave in, needing a bit of humor to relieve the tension. Stars, this *waiting*. He was going to kill himself.
The lights flickered back on, illuminating the room behind him, the broken glass of the doors, and the small patio Duke stood on. The power outage had been no accident. Ferguson had, apparently, cut several wires in the fuse box clean through. As was evidenced by Tanya’s previous loud, angry cursing. Grin was with her, even though she’d been reluctant (the incident with the bellerium crystals on Draggy’s ship was still crisp in her memory, no doubt).
Duke returned inside, going into the bathroom and getting one of the clean towels out of the closet, and drying himself off. He had dry clothes in his room, but were reluctant to get them. Who knows when he might have to go chasing after that squirt-of-a-madman.
An amazing peal of thunder outside made him frown. He hoped the storm was over soon. He didn’t want the other group hampered by the bad weather. It was going to be really nasty wandering around the mountains like this.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped a little bit.
“Relax.” It was Tanya, and she offered him a cup of brown liquid. “We now have some, uh, coffee. Take it.”
Joy!
* * * * *
Joy!
Ivy snatched up the pack of batteries, practically glowing with pleasure. This was the fourth store she’d visited, and the only one that had any left. Seems most of the town had the same idea as she did. Prepare for the worst.
She brought the pack of Duracells to the counter, and grabbed a couple Snickers for the kids and herself. There was a line of 4 ahead of her, impatient people wanting to get home before the roads were completely unaccesable. She recognized one, Conrad Nanaki, his kid was in Derek’s class. He was buying a economy pack of toilet paper.
Something by the doors grabbed her attention. Sheriff Murrow, a kind man of 34, was taking turns speaking rapidly into a walkie-talkie and the Mayor of their town, Daniel Perry, a good friend of the family. Murrow’s usually bright, friendly brown eyes were clouded with worry, and Daniel didn’t look much better. They were both talking rapidly, and gesticulating towards the sky out of the glass doors. Ivy strained over the hurly-burly around her to hear what they were saying.
“How can that be? We don’t *get* them up here!”
“I know Dan, I know, but-” A sour looking woman with a screaming baby lumbered past, obscuring her eavesdropping. “-once in a lifetime thing. ”
“Do we even have preparations for something like this?”
“Yeah, *we* do. But the people don’t-”
“Ma’am!” Ivy blinked, and found herself at the front of the line. The cashier and several angry customers were staring. The slim woman blushed.
“Er . . . I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if you have a Kroger card?”
“Oh. Uh . . . yeah.” She dug through her wallet and handed over the thin piece of plastic, handing it to the disgruntled employee. When she looked back up again, Dan and the sheriff were gone.
* * * * *
Victor Murrow wiped the sweat of his brow with his sleeve. He was not a anxious man by nature. He’d never been. Attractive, intelligent, he had an air that encouraged respect. And even as sheriff, he’d never had a violent crime in his jurisdiction, which also included the other 3 tiny mountain towns in the area. People often underestimated Murrow; he looked young, with boyish freckles and a lanky, adolescent frame. Usually, his eyes shone with a childish, mischievous sparkle.
No, He wasn’t an anxious man naturally. But this wasn’t a natural situation, and he felt his sweaty hand tremble as he punched in the meteorologists office, almost missing the correct numbers. Damn it, stuff like this wasn’t supposed to happen! Not here. Not in the goddamn mountains! The town was fitted with an alarm, luckily, but that was just a stupid precaution since they were just on the edges of the Rockies. Kansas. That was the place for these things. Goddamned weathermen probably read their stupid radars wrong. Yeah, that’s it.
The phone rang once, twice, again. Cursing nervously, Murrow wiped at his forehead again, skin cold. Pick up, pick up, dammit.
“Hello?”
“Krum?” Victor had called the personal office of Noah Krum, a arrogant sonuvabitch who seemed to think he was destined to rule the world. The sheriff hated his guts with a passion, but he had to (grudgingly) admit the man knew his weather. “Sheriff Murrow, here. You have confirmation?” Please no, please no, please no--
“Yeah. They’re heading right your way, sheriff. I’d advise setting of that siren right now.” His voice, nasal even in normal circumstances, was made worse the static on the line.
Murrow felt like crying. “How many? How powerful? And how much time do we have?”
“Looks like three are defiantly going to hit that area, maybe more. Strongest is an F3. Moderate size. And you’ve got 15 minutes. No, 11 now.”
The blonde sheriff cursed loudly, then hung up with a quick goodbye, the phone barely brushing the cradle before it was to his ear again and ringing for city hall.
* * * * *
The wailing stretched across the town, bouncing off puddles, screaming through houses and echoing in ears. Even the storm seemed to stop for the sound, making the town quiet, still, making everything wait in fearful anticipation, all while the eerie noise floated through like a shockwave. It broke the silence, shattered it into tiny shards of confusion and anxiety. The town didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Didn’t dare, for fear the cacophony would turn back on them and usher in things unthinkable.
It was a foreign noise. It didn’t belong in the picturesque mountain village. The residents would not believe what it heralded, some out of ignorance, some out of terror. They continued not to believe, even as the wind began to pick up again, the rain began to fall again, and hail pattered sinisterly upon the roofs of the town’s houses.
And still, the sirens keened on.
*****
Ivy ‘s heart leapt into her throat, bashing itself painfully against flesh and bone. She knew what that shrieking meant.
*****
The valley’s strange visitors did not