Page 42 of The Storm

“Oh shit.”

He’s already on the move. “Confirmed on the ground. Headed for us.”

Something crashes into the side of the building, and I jerk and whip my head around to see what it was. The glass panes of the windows flex faintly under the pressure of the wind.

“Nick.” I turn to look at him, alarm loud and clear in my voice.

He grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the back. The kitchen lights seem too bright as we rush through the open space.

There’s another crack of thunder and something outside slams against the building. I flinch.

“Is there a basement?” I ask him.

He ignores the question. Instead, he stops and yanks the door that leads to the walk-in fridge open. Cold air comes out in a wave. I freeze on the spot, shoulders tightening while I stare at the narrow room in front of me. A strip of clear space between two tall shelves filled to the brim with containers of produce and food.

Yeah, no. No, thanks.

This place is too small, way too small, and the building above us is big. Multiple stories big. No. No, thanks.

“No.” I shake my head.

Nick blinks. “What?”

“I’m not—” I try to swallow. Try to breathe. “I’m not going in there.” That’s stupid. We have to getoutof here. “My car.” I start to turn.

Another crack of thunder makes the lights flicker. A hysterical laugh bubbles up inside me. A blackout is just what’s missing here.

“Blue,” Nick says loudly, as if he’s already said my name a few times. “We don’t have time.”

He starts to tug me along. I dig my heels into the floor uselessly and yank my hand away.

“I said no!”

He doesn’t get it. We have to run. We can’t stay in this flimsy building.

Nick steps closer. “It’s the safest place right now.”

“I don’t care.” My voice is thin.

“Are you serious?” he demands.

“I’m not getting in there.”

“You’d rather take your chances with the tornado?”

“I’d rather not get trapped in a box.”

I know it doesn’t make sense. It wouldn’t make sense to anybody, not even me, but I don’t have a good feeling about this. As of right now, the car seems like the better option. We can drive away. Somewhere. That makes sense.

Another impact shakes the building. Harder this time. Something that sounds suspiciously like glass crashes. The lights flicker again, for longer this time.

“I can’t.” It’s a helpless plea for him to understand.

“Yes, you can.”

He doesn’t wait. He shoves me inside and pulls the heavy door shut behind him. The noise of the storm quiets immediately like we’ve been dunked underwater.

It’s cold. My breath fogs in front of me. The shelves are way too close.