“Bryce,” Liza faced the cook. “Go check the back. I’ll see if I can see it coming from the front.” She raced to the window, and Skip stood up to join her.
Lane grabbed my hand. “Ma’am do you have a storm cellar we can get the kids into?”
“We do,” she answered, looking away from the window to us.
“No need,” Skip added. “It’s not hitting us, and if it changes direction, we have time to get below. Aw, man,” he looked back out the window. “Will you look at the size of it.”
I don’t know why, but I immediately raced for the door.
Lane’s hand grabbed for me and I slipped away as he called out my name.
I needed to see, not only how big it was, but if Skip was right and it wasn’t coming near us.
How did he even know?
I raced outside and a blast of wind, hot and grainy, smacked me in the face with a hard sting. After blinking my eyes a few times to clear the dust, I brought my hands over my brow to shield my eyes.
It was the strangest feeling; the world’s biggest blow dryer was blasting me.
“Jana!” Lane called my name loudly. “Get back inside!”
“It’s fine! Look at it!”
It seemed to be one big CGI funnel, there was no way it was real. But it was. The massive gray monster was in the distance roaring west. It was threatening and frightening just to see it. The velocity and vision of it took my breath away. Even I knew it was far enough away we were safe. It made no motions towards us; it was on a determined path.
I was in awe of it, stuck where I was watching it tear up the earth as it powered full throttle forward. Trees and gravel tossed violently upward as it moved onward. It was on a mission, and while I was grateful we weren’t part of it, I worried. It came from the east; the same direction Martin was headed.
SEVEN – REPRIEVE
It was such a simple thing, but I was always amazed watching Lane eat an apple. He took huge bites with confidence, he never slurped. Me, I always cut the apple into slices or bit with my canines, never my front teeth. I think it went back to when I was seven and it was how I lost my front tooth.
Lane sat at the little Formica table in the RV, my big binder before him. For a second, he wasn’t a middle-aged man wearing cheaters, ones resting on the bridge of his nose. I saw the guy who studied so hard to pass the bar exams. The way he stared at the three inch, hard binder, slowly flipping pages, pausing to bite his apple.
Of course, I didn’t know Lane when he was in college. I met him right after he passed the bar. I met him through Martin.
My sister, Elise had been married to Martin’s son, Bobby, for about six months. I was still living with my mom in Albuquerque, working in fast food to put myself through community college. We had been visiting Martin.
Lane was six years older than me, but my God, was he handsome and dashing. Like something you’d see on a country album cover. He answered an ad Martin placed for a ranch hand. I had no idea whatsoever he was from Vermont until he finally spoke.
There was no Texas in him at all.
He interviewed over the phone, Martin knew where Lane lived and his ambitions. Because Martin was that kind of guy, he hired him. Plus, his reasoning was most rich kids knew horses.
Lane was the horse whisperer, I swore.
Well, the rest was history and now I still stare in awe of him.
I was so happy the affair I thought he was having was a horse named Sally Ann and not some cheap prostitute prettier than me.
I would have forgiven him, though, I would have made him suffer, but forgiven him in the long run. I loved him that much, and I was not, at least for the last year, the best wife. The Jupiter project took my focus every chance I had.
In that automotive garage, I went from looking at my watch, checking on the kids while they played cards outside the RV, to going in to see how Lane was progressing. He seemed so obsessed with my book, determined to look through every page.
“Hey, hon,” I said. “It’s been almost an hour. I’m worried about Martin.”
Lane glanced up. “Look at it another way. It’s only been an hour.”
“The huge funnel came from over that way.”
“I know. He’s fine, Jana. I really believe that.” He flipped a page. “This is really impressive.” He began to fold out the sheet of paper.
“My map. Well, one of them.”
“You drew this?”
I nodded. “It’s the …” I slid in next to him at the table. “It’s the pattern the storms will take. Based on what Julius put up, you can see his original image here.” I turned the page. “He says they are gonna keep coming in waves, picking up steam over bodies of water, like the Gulf.”
“For how long?” Lane asked.
“See that’s where the apocalypse comes in. The storms are going to be bad enough, but once these anomalies start, Julius really believes those with the Jupiter project …”
Lane finished my sentence. “Are going to try to correct it.”
“Yep.” I nodded. ‘If they don’t, we’ll have a lot of pieces to pick up. If they do try and it doesn’t work, there will be nothing left to pick up. Just those who remain kind of stranded where they are. It’s really complicated. I have a whole section dedicated to that very scenario at the end.”
“I like your separator tabs.” His finger tapped a green one. “I still don’t believe it’s the end of the
