After the Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

to take cover immediately in a storm shelter or your basement.” She pauses. “Then get into your bathtub and cover yourself with sofa cushions, a mattress, or blankets.” Pause. “Take your son with you. I know it’s scary. Get in the tub. Right now.” More incoming calls beep, but she shows no impatience.
    I can’t stop thinking about that mobile home park. A lot of young families live out there. A lot of children. There are no basements. No storm shelters. No place to go.
    A few years ago, I volunteered to help with the cleanup of Perrysburg, Ohio, which is about two hours northwest of Painters Mill, after an F2 tornado ripped through the township. There were no fatalities, but many serious injuries occurred, mostly to individuals who tried riding out the storm inside their mobile homes.
    “Stay away from the windows,” Lois instructs the caller. “Put the older kids in the closet. Cover them with the mattress. Take the baby and get in the tub. Take care.”
    Tomasetti looks away from the computer monitor. “Any way to forward 911 calls to the basement?”
    “I can forward the switchboard to the extension down there.” Lois’s fingers fly over the buttons. “Done.”
    “We need to take cover.” Tomasetti snaps his fingers at Lois. “Headset off. Now.” When she doesn’t comply fast enough, he eases it from her head and motions toward the hallway. “Let’s—”
    The front window implodes. Glass flies inward. Lois yelps. Something large gets tangled in the blinds. The wind roars like a jet engine. Water soaks the floor instantly.
    “Let’s go!” Tomasetti shouts, grabbing the weather radio.
    Lois scrambles from her chair and dashes to the hall. I’m a few feet behind her with Tomasetti to my right. Around us the building shudders and creaks. Behind me I hear more glass breaking. The blinds flap wildly. We’re almost to the basement door, when we’re plunged into darkness. For an instant I’m blind, the meager light from outside unable to penetrate the shadows of the hall. Tomasetti flicks on a flashlight, shoves the other one into my hand. I turn it on, yank open the door. We descend the stairs, our feet muffled against the carpet.
    The basement is a dank, dark room equipped with a single jail cell, a duty desk, and a couple of antiquated file cabinets. I shine my light on the desk, and Lois goes directly to the phone and snatches it up. “Dead,” she tells us.
    I grapple for my cell and call Sheriff Mike Rasmussen on his personal number. He answers on the first ring.
    “You guys okay up there?” I begin.
    “Went to the south of us,” he says. “You?”
    “Not sure yet. We’re in the basement. I think we’re going to take a direct hit.”
    “You have access to radar?”
    “Yeah.”
    “There’s going to be damage, Kate. That damn thing’s half a mile wide and chewing up everything in its path.”
    I tell him about the mobile home park. “I couldn’t get to them, Mike. If that park takes a direct hit, there are going to be casualties.”
    “Pomerene and Wooster are on standby,” he tells me, referring to the two nearest hospitals. “Electric and gas companies are gearing up for power outages and gas leaks.” He sighs. “Soon as we’re in the clear, I’ll have my guys head down to that trailer park.”
    “Thanks, Mike. We should be in the clear here in a few minutes.”
    “Call if you need anything.”
    I end the call and look at Tomasetti. He’s standing a few feet away, dividing his attention between me and his smartphone, watching the radar.
    Above us, the ceiling rattles and groans. My ears pop, and I hear the ungodly roar of a train careening down rickety tracks. In the beam of my flashlight, dust motes fly, shaken loose by the vibration from above, and in the back of my mind I find myself hoping the building holds.
    Tomasetti looks away from his phone and makes eye contact with me. I can tell by his expression the news isn’t good. “National Weather Service thinks