Page 38 of Oklahoma Storms
Pain shoots down my neck when I look up. The TV is dangling off an edge that used to be a floor. The black cord stretches to capacity, the large screen flickering with static. A beam supporting the TV cracks in half, giving gravity what it needs to make the television unplug.
I curl into a ball, wrapping my hands around my head to protect myself.
As the TV tumbles, crashing into metal pipes and broken structure beams, pieces of it clatter into the tub. I scream when it finally lands; the old box television clobbers another supportive beam next to me, and what remains of the floor above falls.
A combination of debris hits me, but it’s the heavy pipes cracking that almost crush me. They collide with the tub, lying over me to trap me in the dark.
Water spills from a hole in the metal, cold and harsh against my skin. My teeth chatter, mostly from fear that this might be where I die.
I uncurl from my position, every limb on my body shaking. Rolling to my back, I stare up at the pipes blocking me, trapping me in the tub. Pressing my hands against the wet, rusted metal, I push, screaming at the top of my lungs, giving everything I have.
And it doesn’t budge.
“Help!” I shout, my pleas echoing in the chamber I find myself stuck in. “Someone! Ruka! Millie!” My throat becomes raw and sore, calling out for minutes. “Somebody! Can anyone hear me!” I try pushing against the pipes again, only to cut my hand on a jagged, sharp edge. “Fuck!” I hiss, blood dripping down my palm.
Ripping the bottom of my shirt, I wrap it around my hand, creating a makeshift bandage, hoping it’s enough to stop the bleeding. I don’t want to think about how dirty the wound is. Blood spreads across the material immediately, like wildfire eating the dry forest on a hot, windy day.
Pressing my palms flat against the pipe, I push as hard as I can again, the wound stinging and splitting more from the pressure.
“Ah! Fuck!” I slam my fist against what’s blocking me, the metal echo reverberating through the air.
Taking a big breath in, I do my best to calm down, to not panic. I’m alive. That’s step one.
Check.
Now, I need someone to hear me down here. Glancing at my feet, I scoot down, my head flat against the bottom of the tub. Pipes cover one half of my makeshift coffin while a large chunkof debris cages me in from the bottom. I can’t tell when it’s so dark. Placing my feet shoulder-width apart on the debris, I shout as I try to free myself.
An iron metallic taste blooms in my throat.
Nothing moves. It’s all too heavy.
I collapse, lying in the bath and struggling to catch my breath. I’m not going to get out of here unless someone hears me. That’s the only way.
“Hello! Can anybody hear me?” I knock on the pipes next, hoping the sound will travel to get someone’s attention.
If only I had my phone. I have no clue where it is. It’s probably on the other side of the state by now.
“Think, Nariko. Think.” My eyes well with tears, panic setting in. There’s nothing for me to do except wait.
I should be relieved when I hear sirens in the distance. Help is on the way. The only issue is that when the rescuers see how the motel has been flattened, they won’t be in a hurry to find survivors. They will convince themselves they are looking for dead bodies.
I refuse to die in a damn old motel tub.
I’ve chased for years. Storms, lightning, wind, rain, anything and everything when it comes to weather. I’ve never had to take cover in a tornado before. I’ve always been a safe distance away. It proves that no one can be ready for what Mother Nature will bring. Even as a trained professional, no one can be fully prepared for the wrath that happens when a tornado hits.
It’s fast. It’s strong. It’s deadly.
And nearly nothing can be done except to hope that we make out alive.
“Is anyone there?” I cry out again, my voice trapped in the crumbled prison. “I’m down here!” I bang my fist against the pipes. “I’m down here! Can anyone hear me? Ruka! Ruka, I’m here! Millie!” I scream so loud, the tears break free, rolling downmy cheek in warm lines. “Fuck,” I whisper, knowing my attempts are worthless.
A loud crack comes from the left. I hold my breath to hear if someone is there or if the rest of the building is going to fall down on me.
“Nariko! Nariko? Sugar? Call out to me, please.”
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand in shock. There’s no way that’s who I think it is. “Oklahoma! Oklahoma, I’m here! I’m here. Oh my god, please, get me out!” I sob, pounding the pipes to create as much noise as possible.
The pipes are gone when I blink my eyes. He’s tossed them to the side as if they weighed nothing. That’s impossible. I couldn’t move them an inch. How did he throw them so easily?
