Chapter Text
OKLAHOMA
September 18th, 2009
“I can’t find the keys!” Construction materials were tossed carelessly in the mudroom of a half built home by Jo. A chance fate - new house, unfinished cellar. They barely touched the place, hadn’t even slept there. Initially they mapped rooms to be used in the worst case scenario, but now knowing what they knew? They faced tougher and lived to tell the tale. Staying there meant being exposed, barely covered by stacks of unfinished wood beams. “Well, what do you want me to do Bill?!”
“The Ford! The old Ford!” Bill yelled from the kitchen area. It sat precariously on their land. Pre-bought years beforehand with an old barn that wouldn’t withstand shit. The previous home? Levelled out after winning acres at the local estate auction. The old gal barely stood straight; it was so decrepit. Permits couldn't add a dent into making the forgotten structure habitable, so they opted to start anew.
“What?! That thing hasn’t been turned on in years!” Jo’s frustration permeated the open air of the new build, her hands rapidly skirting through her hair. The Ranger practically acted as a homemade dump. The truck bed was full of rusted harvesting tools. At the time when they dropped it off, there was just nowhere else to put it. It was trash. Garbage. Nothing compared to the Dodge.
“The keys are on the lanyard!” He barked back, pressure looming in the distance. Their disagreements under duress never appeared to get better. All the couple’s therapy sessions and marriage renewals hadn't quite taken away the passion, if one could call it that.
“Mom?” The voice of a small contender trailed at Jo’s heel as her parents weaved through support planks and around little-defined rooms.
“Get the go bag!” Jo called, this time less angry and more purposeful. With the keys in hand she gathered the family dog, a golden retriever for their daughter, and motioned for him to sit at the soon-to-be doorway.
“I’m trying, Jo!” Bill darted around the kitchen before finding it tucked into a corner. Their preparations were exceptional considering they were technically outside of tornado season. Though, organization had room for improvement.
“Grab the backup!” One of two- check. T-Minus ten minutes. Technically, they had time to spare if all conditions remained as conveyed. Good timing, real good timing.
“Wher-” He started before his wife’s voice cut in.
“It’s in the dining room, Bill!”
“Okay!”
Sensing her own projection, Joanna calmed herself with a deep set breath. Ever since the extension of their family things had changed. The dynamics that they grew comfortable with in their youth no longer applied. Being a parent to a developing daughter brought on added anxiety. Most of the time they worked through it, adapted. Today was an off day. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get it. Take Cassie, I’ll meet you by the truck.”
“Meet us by the truck? We need to go, Jo! Leave the backup!” Something twitched nervously at the base of his skull, a threatening beacon, a pull. The sound of whipping wind sliced through Douglas fir beams and aerated throughout the home.
“Mom?” Comparatively, the sweet timbre of a southern child begged for understanding.
“Cassie, honey, take Chance and go outside with Dad and get in the truck, okay?” Jo’s hand reached out to caress her daughter's face as she knelt down to persuade the preteen. Chartreuse irises greeted back in response, wide and innocent and Cassie nodded whilst Jo disappeared into the dining room area of the floor plan.
Gravel scratched beneath a steel toe boot as it tapped furiously into the ground. Bill, growing increasingly aware of their situation, glanced down at the silver watch ticking endlessly over his wrist.
Minute one.
Minute two.
Minute thre— No more time. “Jo, Jo we need to go now!” Rain splattered against the swallowing and bending trees. He could feel each droplet, each hint of a lost second.
As Jo came barreling out with the last of the supplies he took two steps at a time, reaching her smaller body to heave her forward quicker towards the truck. “Get inside-”
Upon them entering, Cassie’s voice echoed from the backseat while clouds grew to loom and darken in the distance. “Dad? Where are we going?”
“It won’t start.” Jo thrusted the key, sputtering the engine relentlessly.
“Try again,” Bill insisted while smacking a fervent palm on the dust-layered dash, hand print marking the plastic over and over.
“I am!” Jo, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror, letting the worry begin to seep into her voice. What minute were they at? 7? 8? No… they had extra time! Was she not paying attention? Not focused? “Bill - I -”
“...” Silence suddenly filled the cabin of the Ford while husband and wife turned to make eye contact, the vehicle rocking gently in foreboding. Bill’s gaze adjusted, curving to rest on the background present in their side mirror as whispering threats turned to wild promises in the air. The faded sticker at the bottom read "Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”
“I’m getting out,” he finally stated.
“What?” Jo’s body twisted in the driver’s seat to face him.
“I’m gonna push, and you’re gonna try to turn it.” Bill stated, attempting his best to keep a level-head despite the disasterous sight behind.
“Bill, no! We don’t have time for th-” Somewhere else, they could find something else. Run to the barn, look for a tie down, like they had all those years ago. She nearly unbuckled her seatbelt before Bill called out, already having opened the passenger door.
“Sweetheart, stay in the car,” he spoke in a loving tone, now at terms with the direness of their situation. His palms gripped the grey side of the Ranger, pulling himself to the rear of the truck bed in spite of the heightened wind until he reached the center.
“Bill!” Jo screamed out, flinging her hands against the steering wheel as it fully entered into view.
“Dad!” The small plea of a minor rang out, turning with the splashing of the wind against Bill’s ears. He could hear her frightened song, even from the last ditch effort at salvation.
“Cassie! Stay in the truck!” He struggled, arms pushing against both time and nature. His feet dug into the wet grass as he prayed not to slide out. His wife, his daughter, his girls. Inside, he begged. Let ‘em go. Just let ‘em go.
“Turn it!” He yelled, forcing his voice to protrude as far out of his throat as possible. The itch after barely resonated.
“Bill, get in the truck!” Jo screamed, voice damn near ripping the paint off of the metal. The funnel touched, dirt splaying out across the back acreage as aggravated barking spat in her ear drums.
“Mom? I think Chance is getting upset,” Cassie, unable to compartmentalize what was occurring, spoke out while attempting to pet shocked up fur.
“Turn it, Honey!” He cried out again as the engine struggled and choked.
“You need to-!” Jo thrusted herself within the seat in an effort to help him, key turning back and forth wildly as slaps of force pummeled at her face.
“Jo, turn it! ” And brilliantly, one final give. The engine came to a roar and the truck soared forward sending Bill stumbling. His hand flung out to grip metal, landing perfectly in the middle and helping him forward. Against the surging gale, he pushed.
“Bill, get in!” Jo screamed as he moved along the side. She leaned over to prop open the passenger side door for him.
He rounded the back, eyes darting to the side mirror to witness Cassie staring back at him with a hand out to beckon him forward, encouraging him. The hope that lingered in her irises seared his feet into the newly developed mud and Bill smiled, taking another step forward.
The sight of sheet metal smashing into his body and flying him back into agitated gusts bred an open mouthed scream, silenced by the noise of clapping roars, and his form brutally tore up into the air, enthralled in darkness to the tune of spinning tires tearing away from wet ground.
“Daddy!”
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