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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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Chapter Text

OKLAHOMA

May 1st, 2027

“Mom, this house is like a mausoleum,” green irises unfocused, staring at the many photographs that lined the antique furniture. Perhaps comfort would have been found there if it hadn’t been for how nothing changed. Dust gathered disproportionately along the frames that now stifled her childhood bedroom. The peak of her fingertip grazed over grey, coating the print in absent days.

See, it was all rather… tempestuous ; a word Cassie learned in the ninth grade after submitting a PowerPoint on social economics. Most of the other students expected her to present a show and tell of the local talk point that never quite seemed to dwell: Dorothy! New invention has the potential to save the lives of hundreds! Well, all but one.

Mrs. Deaberman graded the intensely researched effort with a B minus and stated it as being “lower than expected.” So, it appeared that even the faculty had a hard-on for local weather fame. Comparatively, the guidance counsellor simply offered advice of “write what you know”, as if creativity held any station in advanced placement courses. There was thinking with your brain, then there was delving with your heart. The latter trait? Tempestuous .

And Cassie, now talking to herself in a room with purple walls and posters of horses, sighed. Oklahoma smelt of dew, and rain, and mud, and wood. San Francisco, on the other hand? Pollution and warm pavement. Success, if such a word could exude a smell. Money, maybe?

The cell phone that rang atop daisy-ridden bed sheets brought disillusioned eyes to refocus. She blinked, hand absentmindedly reaching out to snatch the iPhone without checking the Caller ID in hopes that rescue would be sitting on the other end, offering a 401K and stable IRA matching.

“Hello? This is Cassandra.” Cassie breathed out, fingers flexing to grip the case tighter in consideration of the potential for being clumsy and dropping the chance at salvation.

“Cassie?” A male voice sounded on the other end, obviously tentative.

Cassie? No one in San Francisco called her Cassie. “Uh… yeah?” She responded with an eyebrow now peaked in confusion, combined with the internal pressure to hang up and throw the phone across the room into a pile of gasoline and light it up.

“It’s Javi!” The sound of a slight pause and the two didn’t speak, then he continued. “Javi Rivera.”

Oh.

Cassandra blinked momentarily. “Hey… Javi. What’s going…on?” Awkward quiet occurred between the words as she struggled to fill the random conversation.

“Not a lot. Your mom told me you were back in town,” Javier spoke back.

“Yeah, for a little while.” She responded, switching the phone to her other ear.

“For a little while?” Javi questioned. That wasn’t what Jo led him to believe, and it certainly hadn’t been an assumption.

“Well, I don’t know how long. You know… the uh… employment rate this year… and…” Cassandra used the nondescript words as an out.

“Your mom said something about that.” He grew more comfortable, settling into the oncoming conversation. “Listen, that’s why I’m calling. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but we have a group and I was thinking that maybe you could-”

Cassandra shot upright, taking a few steps around her room in quick succession. Facebook updates kept her somewhat aware of the happenings in her hometown. She could recall a series of YouTube videos plastered across the social media site with Javi’s face in the thumbnail. “Oh… That’s… nice of you to offer, Javi, but I’m still out of the field.” Beads of familiarity slipped into the discussion. His voice was still the same, potentially a tad deeper.

“Well… what if it was just with me?” He prodded. “Could use the big city knowledge, Cass. It’s been a long time.”

Yeah.

It had been a long time. Frankly, astonishing that he remained out and on the field after what happened to Addy, Jeb, and Praveen. The wind in Oklahoma took bodies with it.

“I can’t, Ja-” Cassandra began, then got cut off.

“The storms are getting worse,” Javi sighed on the other side. “The past two years… We need all the help we can get. I know that you just got back and I’m asking a lot. Maybe think about it for a while?”

“Just you and I, Cassie. Only you and me. For old times’ sake.” Finality entered his voice, and he quieted down on the other end of the line.

Cassandra, sensing that he needed to hear a specific answer from her, relented with a nod. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know.” She glanced around the room, hand running through dirty blonde locks and snagging at new tangles. “But no crew. Ever.”

The call went stale after that. To Cassandra, all that needed to be spoken- had been. Despite the conclusion the outcome felt sealed. 

Ding.

Data

Tomorrow we’re meeting at the Flying J in Ardmore around noon.

We have data. We need help.

The texts that sat in wait across her screen shredded into a sense of guilt. The minutes ticked by without a resounding approval. The unfortunate condition of being human? Connection. His old title stood out amongst a sea of unsaved contacts. Javier tugged at the past and relied on their diminishing circumstances to breed inner questioning.

And damn if it didn’t work.

She teetered on the edge. Political leanings aside, scenarios proved to be worsening. In all of her time performing implementation and risk assessment, nothing compared to 2026. Just over two years left on the Climate Clock. Silent action wasn’t action at all.

The sound of incoming begging rang once again.

Data

The storms aren’t going to get better.

Only if it’s us.

Data

Only us, promise.

In the kitchen below, Jo stood in front of the sink. Yellow curtains were pulled back to reveal a sunny day. Clouds in the distance held no indication of turning. The mountain range at the back of the acreage created a painted landscape of beauty. Her second cup of coffee steamed pleasantly against her chin before the mug found its way between her lips and a deep sigh sounded.

The warmth seeped life into her throat.

Reba Mcentire played lightly from the radio stationed on the countertop. The smell of dissipated bacon and eggs still radiated from the stove fan. “She still doesn’t get up early on weekends,” Jo smirked and took another sip. “Thought that was just for teenagers.” These days, the Harding patriarch talked to herself more often than not. Once upon a time people from town came in droves to ask questions. The odd journalist would reach out for an interview, even. Yes, her younger self had a well deserved fifteen minutes of fame. The day that Dorothy floated in the air everything changed. For the first few years people would cheer when they entered towns. But, eventually all good things do come to an end.

For the major part of a decade, she was left alone in a large house on the land where her husband died. Losing her daughter acted as the last nail in the coffin of age, though Jo entered that nomination gracefully.

And it wasn’t as though Cassie never reached out. Although, having Christmas in San Francisco did grow tiresome over the years.

Being alone had initially taken its toll. Old friends aged and passed away. Her connections grew their lives in love, producing their own families and some moved away. She still kept in touch with a few. Days upon days just got in the way.

It took until her 60’s to enjoy the time. Her earlier brand of recklessness and impulsivity gave way to the changing of tides. Now the weeks and years passed with ease and calm. The back porch greeted her in the mornings with a chair, the TV in evenings. Every second or third night she called her daughter to keep the relationship intact.

When Jo originally made the proposition of Cassie coming back home, she was met with a tentative no. As if her daughter felt guilty leaving her aging mother with no nearby family, regardless of the predicament she found herself in. The rejection lasted for two or so months until the financial well ran dry, and again, Jo offered the same love as previous. “Cassie, just come home. Get your wings and then you can get back on your feet and try again.”

There was some persuading, of course, but both women were indeed intelligent. They could come to an agreement sometimes. Less than two weeks after - Cassie was back home, the way it always should have been.

“Smells good,” Cassandra’s voice entered the hallway between the kitchen and the staircase. “Is there any coffee?”

“It’s in the pot.” Jo replied, swiveling around to meet her daughter as she entered the room. “Breakfast is on the stove.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Cassandra replied absentmindedly before grabbing a plate with familiar navigation. The coffee was still warm, surprisingly. Considering the time.

“Any news?” The older woman’s hand curved further around her cup and hid her intentional fishing with nonchalance.

“Nothing yet.” Cassandra spoke, pouring out some coffee for herself. “But… Javier called me.”

“Did he?” Jo moved to the faucet and turned on the water, feigning washing the dishes.

“Yep. He said that you told him I was home.” The younger Harding took a short bite of bacon with a peaked eyebrow.

“Oh, well I saw him at the Homeland a few days ago and we had a conversation, talked about it a little. Nice that he called you, sweetheart,” wrinkled hands wiped a rag into a glass. “And since when do you call him Javier ?”

“Since I graduated high school and grew out of nicknames,” Cassandra muttered under her breath, stifling her reply with another chew of bacon.

“The two of you used to be so cute.” Jo continued, despite hearing her daughter's usual attitude toward anything emotionally intimate. “Attached at the hip.” The taps were turned off as bubbles reached an inch below the brim of the sink. “I remember one day the both of you came trudging into this kitchen soaked in mud. Looked like you walked out of a lagoon.”

Cassandra grinned. The memory of lost youth tumbled back into her eyelids. “You grounded me for that.”

“For a week. Which turned into two days, because you were a damn persuasive kid.” Jo laughed at the thought and shook her head. “Never could stop you from doing what you wanted. You were too much like me.”

The kitchen went silent after that. Both women were too afraid to delve further into the unknown. Eventually Cassandra finished her plate and washed it, then put it away.

She joined her mother an hour later outside on the back porch. The sun rested high in the early afternoon sky. Cows grazed grass on the right while chickens pecked away at seeds in their holding.

“Cows need hoovin’.” Jo started, staring out at the Oklahoma country. “And the barn has to be reorganized.” She rocked back and forth, placing a book down onto her right thigh.

There it was. The hidden fine print of being back home without money. Chores.

“Why are you still even keeping cows, mum?” Cassandra probed. “Merle died four years ago. Give them to another farmer.”

“You talk like I’m raising a meat factory.” Jo shook her head. “They’ll be here ‘til they die too. They’re… pets.” She shrugged and picked her book back up. “And Harding’s don’t give up on what they love.”

“Now go organize that piece ‘a shit before I hold an “everything must go” sale.” She looked up at her daughter from just below the brim of the pages. “Or I’ll call up your old boss and give him a real issue to be worried about.”

Cassandra let out a small laugh and crossed the porch in front of her mother. “That’s manipulative. I think you’re starting to lose it.”

“The day I ‘lose it’ is the day pigs fly. Now get your ass off your mama's porch with your slander.” Jo retorted back, watching as Cassie disappeared off of the white steps and into the joining land toward the barn.

Tepid air.

Light spring breeze.

May 2nd.

Painted nails turned in rotation across the old steering wheel. Upon finishing the left exit, Cassandra rested her cheek on a half bundled fist, temple landing near the knuckles. 

The storms aren’t going to get better.

The idea of journeying out already seemed like a bad one. Meeting him there meant being alone during the car ride, which left a decent chunk of time for thought. Thought turned to beads of regret, and now Cassandra cursed herself for adjusting her moral compass in the name of nostalgia.

Catching the sign of the truck stop, Cassandra pulled in with her eyes widening to the sight that stood ahead. “What… the… fuck…?” The slow surrender of bewilderment fell from strawberry lips to the image of lifted trucks, RVs, and cameras… everywhere .

The pavement looked akin to a frat party. Alpha Sigma Tornado!

People danced, shouted, and kissed. The scene could be described as dystopian, if she weren’t so disappointed. Maybe then the proper word would come for descriptive purposes.

A familiar face entered into view at the slow speed of her Ford from high school, the single vehicle she owned half able to be included. Her Hyundai Elantra swayed on good days.

“Cassie!” Javi shouted in greeting, watching as her hair weaved outside of the driver's window. His feet made way to meet her alongside the gasoline pumps. She still looked the same. Aside from some added makeup and highlights. Well, that and a few years of aging. 

Cassandra nodded and tentatively climbed out of the old beater, taking a glance around at the setting. “Yeah, Hi Ja-”

He bounded up, wrapping arms around her in a tight hug bred to cross the years of little communication.

“Oh!” Cassandra groaned as he squeezed. “Okay,” unexpected, though not necessarily unpleasant. “Tight, really tight, Javi.” She coughed out dramatically.

“Oh, shit!” He relaxed and pulled away. “Sorry. Big day!” And the excitement permeated the Ardmore air. People chirped with the speakings of an EF0.

“It’s alright.” She tapped his back upon his release. “And when did you get the gun show? Those are new.” Slender fingers pointed at his biceps in teasing.

“You like ‘em?” Javi held a tanned arm out, pointing it up toward the sky in mock emphasis. “I eat a lot of eggs these days. Raw.”

“Makes sense. I never understood why people cook them when you can just take the pure protein straight from the chicken.” She grinned, albeit in a barely defined way. Her shoulders eased.

“Here - let me introduce you to the crew.” Javi’s hands rubbed at his jeans, an old coping mechanism for anxiety from childhood.

“What? No, you said it was just us.” Cassandra stood straight, taking a step back to her truck.

“Well - they - I mean, it will be us when we’re chasing, but…” His hands transitioned to his back pockets to hide the obvious trait of nervousness.

“Javi…” Cassandra groaned, now coming to understand the plan. “No. No crew. No people - or I turn around.”

He sighed and exchanged his weight between his feet. “Okay, okay. I’ll go talk to them. I might be a few minutes.” He turned then, walking off and joining a group of online personalities. She recognized some from the thumbnails of the videos.

After five or so minutes of waiting, she made the choice to walk along the outer edge of the pavement. Aside from the rolling blades of grass across the road from the beat-down Flying J-, nothing felt like home. Things adjusted, she supposed. All earthly givings required adapting. Back in the day, Ardmore was a tiny dot on the map. Now it had grown to a scenic passing. As noted, adaption.

The sound of yelling fans and blaring country music grated into city ears. "God's Country" was, of course, a southern state-certified classic. If she was back in San Francisco, pop would probably play in every establishment known to the urban man. Too bad. 

Situated in the perfect center of the crowd - a guy. The cowboy hat, belt buckle, and boots did not indicate a unique personality, yet the sea of people cheered with unambiguous mirth. T-shirts hung from clotheslines with price tags. “If you feel it, Chase it!” Tagline be damned. The cotton blends wavered in the even air. 

And cash sang from the hands of admirers.

The parking lot became lost in a sea of branded vehicles. Flashing headlights and cheering instigated goosebumps across arms concealed by a silk indigo blouse that bellowed to the same beat of the aforementioned merchandise.

So yep, she stood out.

Notably, too. Considering she pondered and brooded along the exterior of the pavement. Wide-legged khakis cinched at her waist, tucking in the business casual outfit that rendered her the needle in an amateur hour haystack. The old clothing from previous years at her mother’s home remained in the closet, not so much as touched upon re-entering Oklahoma.

Approaching footsteps catching gravel notified that h e was growing closer. The outline of a cowboy hat in spring dirt finalized his incoming and Cassandra’s hands fell in front of her stomach, clasping to maintain a distant stance.

"They give you money for that?" Cassandra spoke out, keeping her timbre monotone. The sunglasses that hid green eyes were a blessing, the gateway to witness her scowl. "You must be a fan of Jackass." Man, the people made famous these days. If only her father could see it now! Thank the heavens her mother didn't continue being up to speed, too busy enjoying retirement with a daughter who didn't intend to continue the family business of one twister, two twisters whilst riding around in an early casket.

Tyler’s face turned to her, teeth chewing down on gas station beef jerky. Prices went up compared to last spring and were practically highway robbery now. “Well, darlin’,” he drawled in thespian amusement. “Some folks pay good money for entertainment, others happen to find it.” Her lack of accent pointed to being an outsider and Javier spoke of introducing a ride along. Put one and one together: You get a city woman in a corporate getup with an attitude to spare.

Preferring to keep first impressions humorous, Tyler continued. “What brings the CEO of Banana Republic to…” He grinned with mirth, noting her grimacing micro-expressions to the music. “God’s country?”

"I'm here to do what you do, but better," Cassandra noted, features still telling no tale of emotion as his quip and exaggerated cadence took center stage. "And without making it a midnight viewing of The Three Musketeers." Fuck all the cameras. Too many cameras! It was daunting, in a way.

Perhaps it wasn't him. Perhaps it was about the performance, all the internet boasting. He was simply the front face. Though he appeared to quite enjoy the fame. Unattractive.

"Saw one of your videos on YouTube. Fireworks in a tornado… that one really made me tingly." Had the words been spoken in any other way, they could have been mistaken for a flirt. But they weren't, and it was easy to identify the mocking of his flamboyant nature towards disaster. To think that people sat in front of their computers and phones, to spend their limited time in life watching such a show. Mother nature wasn't a scene of a movie, it was a nearby danger. People fucking died, lost their homes, their jobs, their pets…

"Maybe next time you should toss a shark in it." Cassandra nearly let herself grin at that one, referencing the franchise bred out of dumb ideas turned into comedy and suspension of belief. A very comparable metaphor for his… career, before turning a booted heel and beginning to walk back to the gas station. Javier, fuck. Because she needed a job. That was it.

Wait… what? By the time Tyler thought of another witty sentence to entertain, she was five steps away and headed back to a stripped Ford. His longer legs took enhanced movements to catch up. “Hey now,” he called out in a light tone. “You don’t gotta run off just yet, haven’t even told me yer name yet.”

“And no sharks, PETA’d have my ass worse than the tornados. Can’t get cancelled.” The court of public opinion already brewed overhead in his lifestyle. Some things were better left for the movies, even if everything after the second was hot dogshit. “You gonna stand there lookin' all broody, or you gonna tell me what makes you think you can out-chase the best damn storm chaser in Oklahoma?" Another piece of jerky arrived in his mouth, the taste tangy and the texture tough. One finger laced into his belt loop, intrigued by her biting ego.

"Generally, when someone walks away, it means they don't want to talk anymore." Cassandra struck like a viper in the sand, too lost in a clipboard to afford distraction. Like hell, she got laid off! And no wonder. The government kept dwindling resources for disasters. Earthquakes, hurricanes, tornados, climate change! The symptoms of the truth became louder, but the money went elsewhere. Another company would surely take her on, and hopefully nowhere near home.

LOCAL PROMPTING COMES MINUTES TOO LATE. 

A newspaper from a few towns over read in a bold headline. Inner passages spoke of destruction.

Not only did an F3 hit a small town, they weren't notified until 7 minutes before it hit.

7 minutes.

Storm radars in 2025 hit unprecedented obstacles. Too many weather irregularities. Their recently elected president, Tom Jordan, did little to assist. Money taken from education was funneled into the military and citizens grew wary of wars across their borders, rather than the war on their growing climate crisis. 

Environmental jobs took cuts while technology enhanced. Somewhere along the way, AI took a major threshold within meteorology. Seats that once held human interference, were now controlled by man-made computers that registered as better for profit, cheaper to maintain.

Her department took a swift kick in the nuts. In 2024 they had thirty. By 2025, the number dwindled to 14, by 2026? Cassandra no longer knew. Disaster Implementation Specialist, now rendered to her childhood bedroom lined with forgotten dreams.

The solve? Statewide drones. Wind changes could alert radars, which would release automatic drones to capture footage and enable live notification without human intervention. No bodies, no deaths. At least, that's what Cassandra hoped for in her own planning. Years of hard work - squandered! No job meant no way to fund an experimental test of devices. Back to square one, just like she had been in her younger years. 

"I don't chase, I prevent." She noted with a sigh and glanced up, taking her glasses down as cirrus clouds passed by. Moss green eyes hesitated. "If you came for standup, I'm more of a crowd-work kind of comedian." Without turning to look at him, she kept the larger portion of her focus on the clouds. "And explaining the joke kind of makes them… you know… not funny."

Prevent, huh? Sounded like a load of bureaucratic bullshit to him. “You don’t chase?” He sounded out, the question elongated from his lips in questioning. He leaned in as though the two had a long-running secret. “What do you do, talk to ‘em ‘til they dissipate?" This time, his grin took on a much larger, self-confident position. His booted foot hoisted up to rest on the Ford’s rusted bumper. The ol’ truck barely entered their century, let alone looked proper for chasin’. The junk of metal wouldn’t get her far. “Hope you brought a spare, city girl.” From the corner of his eye, he took the tires into account, half bald. Best be careful. 

His gaze trailed off to join hers, teeth chewing while altocumulus prepped in the sky's background. “Tyler Owens,” he stated and removed his hand from his belt to hold it out in greeting.

More cirrus…

Northwest over the mountain horizon. A short accumulation, but dense enough to breed suspicion. "Javier!" Cassandra called out, shoving the clipboard in her truck and weaving past Tyler's hand without a second thought. Frankly, his words fell on deaf ears and Cassandra heard little of anything. "Truck time, let's go!" He wanted her there for a reason. Fucking no way she was going with sir "Tornado Wrangler". The last thing she wanted was to be gaping eye candy for their millions of viewers. 

It looked as though her old companion had barely mentioned her to whatever his name was anyway, TJ? Hell, he didn't even seem to know her. What a nasty surprise (that would surely make him feel like a grade-a idiot). Dorothy, created by her parents, changed the tornado tracking system for the better. Then again, Cassandra never exactly boasted about her lineage.

She thrust the door to her pickup open with force and bounced up into the driver's seat, sticking her head out the window with an incredulous look. "Yo, Youtube guy, can you get your fucking boots off my bumper? Who do you think you are? MOVE!" she growled. Who did that? Put their boots on something that didn't belong to them? The truck may have been old, but it sure as Hell wasn't garbage! "Besides, don't you have a job to do?" An eye roll and Cassandra turned to look out the rear window, the Ford backing up to meet Javier.

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Chapter Text

“What’s with the MSI?” Cassandra teased from the worn-out driver’s side of the Ford. “No more Thinkpads?” The visual of previous memories came to mind, his fingertip bustling across the red TrackPoint while yammering on about everything and nothing at all. Oh, how times changed. The cloud of youth lapsed in a blink and now the two of them sat in the same cabin with hardly an hour's worth of conversation between them in years.

“Leveled up. Team perk. ” The military paid well, sure, but videos provided much-needed tax write-off opportunities. “You could get one too, you know. You still play the Sims? This could beast out on that,” Javi grinned to rub in the somewhat embarrassing revelation.

Green eyes curved to meet his profile, glancing from the side without adjusting her facial position from the road. “ The Sims? ” She snorted. “No. I have a 401k and an IRA.” Not to mention the third one made her computer sound like a NASA launch. “Got bored of making people swim to death, I guess.”

Javi shook his head, catching the distant sight of a truck behind them. Sweet mercy, they were pulling up ahead of schedule. “Sounds like you…” He trailed off, now half in and half out of the conversation.

Trees in the distance oscillated in song along the skyline. A flurry of painted green against darkening blue hues. 

9 minutes later Cassandra's eyes kept a clear visual through the windshield. Somehow the years that spanned in their time apart hadn't resulted in a thick valley between them. Looking at him then, it was almost as if no time had passed.

Javier sat in the passenger side, laptop open in preparation for Cassie's mark. "Wind's up to 40," he noted and let his eyes dial in. "What's our speed?"

Her focus flickered to the speedometer. "60 miles and perfectly on the line." Leaning forward, the female counterpart let her head turn to take in the upper layer of the sky above. "We got plumes coming in from the west." Could indicate a change in course, or a position where the rotation would eventually form. "AACP." They had approximately ten minutes by her own interpretation. Hopefully, winds would settle rather than turn into anything with larger chances of destruction. "We'll keep going straight for now bu-" Shifting back up, her irises caught a truck in the rearview mirror barreling closer.

"Oh fuck…" The blonde muttered, grinding her teeth at the witness of unwanted familiarity as it approached and swerved to take up the adjacent lane.

“Well helloooo gorgeous.” Tyler chattered out theatrically, head nodding toward the darkening sky. “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Hazel eyes flashed down, noting the tires covered in dust. “You’re not too good at takin’ advice, are ya, Corporate?” He yelled across to her. Half bald tires still. Rookie mistake. It made him grimace on the inside.

Cassandra, trying her best to keep her cool and maintain keen focus, ignored his initial baiting. The continued prompting by him, however, did manage to weasel under thick skin and bring out a short reply. “My mother told me never to talk to strangers,” she gave a blatantly annoyed smile and rolled the window up inch by inch, cutting him off at the source.

“Strangers? Hell, we’re practically family now!” Tyler yelled from the driver's side through the open passenger window and Boone, grinning wide with an expression akin to a madman on steroids, flushed himself back into the seat to offer eye contact between the two. “Don’t you ever smile? You look as though someone forced ya’ to eat raccoon! What, too much gristle for ya’ now that you’re in the heat of it?” He called and pressed their vehicles closer, his bumper an inch or two away from kissin’ her mud flaps.

Catching the sight of the sealed window, calloused fingers ripped up the CB with a wry grin. “You havin’ a good time, Javi? Or do you need rescuin’ from your kidnapper? Nod three times if you need help.”

Cassandra groaned, lips pressing into disgusted lines as the truck cruised forward. Beeps travelled out of the laptop. “What’s that me—” She began, only to be cut off by Javi sinking his sordid thumb down on the push-to-talk.

“AACP coming in hot! Funnel’s beginning. We got 50 miles on the uptake,” Javi sounded into the handheld.

Green eyes blinked in shock, mouth agape at the blatant treachery of his previous promise.

“Wooo!” Tyler shone from the perfect response. “We’re enterin’ the Bear’s Cage boys!” He shouted with enthusiasm, palm splashing against the roof in a few virtuous taps before glancing back at the others as they joined their little convoy. His large hand gave a tighter grip on the wheel, the other one coming down to offer a joyful response. “Breaker 1-9, we are prepped for tornado landin’.” The red highlight from a dashcam simmered until it smoothed out in indication that they were now being recorded.

And right on schedule rain splattered down, pelting the two trucks while they drove side-by-side. The wind grew stronger, gull streaming large lines of precipitation across the windshields.

“Mesocyclone’s starting. 600 yards out,” Javi spoke as the MSI dinged with further information.

“Javi!” Cassandra barked out, awakened from her stilled state and agitated. “You said no team!” Thin fingers laced around the steering wheel, whitening in concern of keeping control over the Ford. The ring on her nondominant hand pressed into aware skin.

“They’re already here,” he persuaded. “No team, just sharing data for safety.” The computer dinged again. “We have twins. Twin swivels taking the ground!”

“Now I reckon today’s a good day to take on a whole pile’ a baby ‘nados, don’t you, Boone?” Tyler grinned across the console to his better half and nodded in front of them.

“I think so, Ty. You want the nursery to be blue or pink?” Boone exclaimed, tongue shooting out while his head shook back and forth and they pushed faster into the descending funnels that appeared to walk the land.

“I’m not much of a bettin’ man, but I think they’re gonna be girls this time!” Tyler roared and the two of them broke out into excited laughter.

Boone nodded and made his way atop the passenger side window, letting the rain soak his t-shirt as he whipped out powder cannons to shove in the firework shooters at the back window. “Girls it is, boss!”

Noting the way the Wranglers pushed forward with aggression, Cassandra let a bit of steam off the gas and fell behind. “What are they doing?” She inquired. “Javi!” She shouted.

“What? Sorry.” Javi glanced up from the swirling rotation on the screen.

“What’s that one doing? The guy.” Her thumb jetted to point at Boone as he hung out the truck, wind crumpling his thin shirt.

Javi peered across her body and out the driver’s side window. “Boone?” He questioned. “He’s setting up the fanfare.” A dismissive hand was waved in the air between them, born from years of the same witness over and over.

“Fanfa– Shit!” She was about to inquire further when Boone sank back into the neighbouring Dodge and Tyler swerved to take the lead in front of her truck. Cassandra ripped the steering wheel to the right, forcing the two of them into the field while the convoy whizzed past them.

Her tires ground in the mud, sending watered-down dirt and grass spraying back behind the bed. She gave a few more revs but the battle was lost, the twisters played together far ahead as they moved into the horizon and sunshine replaced the darkened sky.

“Damnit!” Forceful hands slammed down onto the wheel before navigating up at her temples, rubbing into the hair and scratching at her scalp. “Great. That’s great.”

Javi, considering himself to be at least somewhat knowledgeable on women, kept his mouth closed and nodded.

As the Wranglers closed in on the dancing funnels, she opened her truck door and stood outside on the gravel road, one hand up at her eyes to conceal them from the newfound sunshine.

“Now for you miniatures at home, this here is PG-13! Don’t go tryin’ this without parental supervision. Leave it to the pros!” Tyler called as they entered the dragon’s den. “Say Boone, what kinda shower were we havin’?”

“A baby shower!” He replied with gusto.

“Damn right a baby shower, let’s get this girl born!” Tyler boasted. “You know what to put in the comments —  Pull the trigger, Boonster!”

Canisters shot into the sky at a .45 degree angle. The walking legs ingested, and then, in a strangely beautiful display of man-made art, layers of pink smoke erupted at the sides in wispy plumes.

Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you fucking kidding me?” They were deranged. Two grown men entering the suck zone without any sense of care or concern. The truck darted out and drove circles around the small swells. It was like watching two teenagers pretending to drag race in a Walmart parking lot at 9pm on a Tuesday.

Carelessness, right down to the bitter core of human natural selection. Her eyes turned into defiant slits. “Fanfare?” Pearly teeth gritted down in contemplation. “Disgusting.”

Minutes later the Dodge came bundling down Third Line Road. Tyler caught sight of Javi and Cassandra standing by their lonesome, whomever would have thought such an ending could occur? Certainly not him only an hour prior. “Corporate!” He stopped and hung his arm out of the driver’s side, lining himself up to be directly in front of her. “What are ya’ doin’ over here? Tornadoes are miles back there now!” His hand tapped the faded red paint of the side door. “Need a lift? Could tow both of you’s back to Discount Tire? On me.”

Satisfied with his own ‘I told you so’, Tyler turned to peer through the other truck and look at Javi. “You wanna hop in?”

Javi shook his head no and tried his best to suppress a grin. “I’ll stay here with Cassie!” He called back.

“Suit yourself, high roller. Not my first bet.” Tyler shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. Seconds later the Dodge roared off down the road.

Cassie. Cassandra’s mind became entangled in Javi’s proclamation. The word tasted vile on her tongue and sounded inauspicious upon entering peaked ears.

Her hands ran over her face and Cassandra turned to climb back into the truck.

INSURANCE DENIALS RISE AMIDST ENVIRONMENTAL CALL-TO-ACTION

The eye-catching headline swayed idly in exhausted hands. Praying the next day would grant her own gas tank full, even with delayed sleep involved, Cassandra sat at a rusted-out picnic bench outside the local motel. By the time the two of them found their way back into the nearest town (after pushing her Ford out of the mud) the hour proved late enough to grant a night away from home.

Splashed out over the worn-down flats of wood lay-alike publications, all rendered across the past two years. Collected on eBay, sent by her mother to the city, paid for in random gas stations… 

Each paper maintained the same focus. Growing outrage with miniscule change. Public opinion from 2025 appeared no different than 2027. The only adjustment? Weight. Anger grew with each added instance of destruction. Earthquakes, fires, hurricanes — all disasters hosted one common denominator. The sinner of sir. Capitalism, where the peasants lost and the kings swam in riches built over the dead and the poor.

“Brought you some sweet tea.” Javier approached with drinks in hand. “You still drink it, right?” He took a seat across from her, feeling the bench creak beneath his body.

Cassandra looked up, a yellow highlighter flicking absentmindedly onto the opened page in front of her. “Yeah, sometimes,” she noted with a pause and reached out to accept the gift. “San Francisco doesn’t really… It’s not much of a thing there. Not like here.” Originally she had gone out of her way on more than one occasion to get the hint of home. Eventually though… all things from Oklahoma sort of… swam away. The instances of her old life were forfeited for new experiences. A transition. A new identity .

“Thanks, Javi,” she gave a slight smile and turned back to the articles on the table.

“What are you… reading?” Not that any of it looked much like reading at all. Nah, the layout gave off an ‘I’m a detective on a crime scene show’ vibe. Things were circled, underlined, and highlighted. Cassie may as well have asked for some red string, would have completed the visual.

“Researching,” she fixed. “Sorry… It’s… I’m not reading.” Her description brought a confused expression across Javi’s features and Cassandra sighed.

“Okay, see these two papers?” Exact hands thrust the examples forward to rest beneath his eye line, index finger tapping the left-sided one. “This one is from New Jersey—,” she began before the aforementioned digit navigated to the right-hand option. “But this one, this one is from West Virginia.” The stationary was repositioned in her hand and the dates were circled to guide his focus. “See that? Same date. The day after Arlington in February last year.” Texas, a sobering witness to many.

“New Jersey focuses on the hardship after. West Virginia showcases the month. Nothing about anything else. In fact, barely any info at all.” Citizens deserved to be educated, to see the truth behind layers of red tape!

“Red and blue,” he hesitated in the conversation, considering they’d hardly talked since she arrived back home. He took a long sip of Dr. Pepper to fill the growing unease inside of him.

“Blue and red,” Cassandra confirmed. “These people… they get nothing. ” Soft and malleable to the distinct trauma of losing everything, she let out a wavering sigh. “They lose and then… no one talks about it. We’re on to the next… big thing, disaster.”

“Yeah…” Javi nodded along, taking a closer read of the ‘research’. “Desensitized.”

She nodded along with him, joining the sombre micro-expressions that he presented. “Desensitized.”

“How’s it research, though, Cass?” He leaned in, noticing that she hadn’t yet taken a sip of her sweet tea. Back in the day, she’d have chugged it before finishing the first sentence. Was she not thirsty? Would Nestea have been better? Or a coffee?

She sighed and glanced off toward the motel for a long moment. “These things matter, Javi. Everything matters. It’s proof. It’s how the papers get pushed.” Her hand tugged the cup up to her lips, throat swallowing a large gulp. “And it’s monotonous. But it’s what we have. This kinda shit is the only thing we have.” Did the truth matter, though? Fat chance. Maybe before the layoffs, the cuts, the lack of care from policy handlers and leaders…

“They don’t care about us. Someone has to.” She ended and chugged down the liquid, throat expanding to accept a shivering taste of anxious-swallowed sweet tea.

So she did still choke down sugary drinks as if they were going to disappear! A short rise bid of pride entered Javier’s stomach until the gravity of the conversation lurched the sensation. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s nice to have someone listen,” Cassandra admitted and sat back on the bench, head tilting up to the star-littered evening. They were beautiful. A fool could look up at the constellations and allow themselves to believe that, even for a brief moment, things would get better. The path of no longer having earth could be arranged. That hope distanced itself with each year.

“The tea’s good,” she eventually offered. The prior topic was dark, she knew. Still, it needed to be said. Change never came from silence.

Javi softened. There she was, in front of him, opening up for the first time since… The best friend in him, the one that ran through swamps and climbed trees with her felt serene. Cassie looked like before aside from a few new wrinkles here and there. Even then, Harding’s held an air of warmth.

“I’m glad you came today,” he whispered. “I missed you, Cass,” he confessed and tried his hardest to catch her gaze.

Cassandra sucked in a harsh breath and attempted to change her gaze, but Javier wiggled himself into her eyeline at every adjustment. “Javi…” Her voice trailed away. “I missed you too, bu–”

“Don’t say but, please.” Javi piped up, though his timbre remained low and unthreatening. “I haven’t gotten to hear that in a long time. Don’t say but,” he doubled down on the request.

“Okay.” Cassandra nodded, understanding the underlying emotion in his eyes.

“I want you to join our team. You did a good job today,” he insisted and pointed down to the newspapers. “We need someone that can do this, asks the questions and makes the viewers… aware of the rest. Of the remnants.”

“We talked about this…” Her head moved to the tune of a firm ‘no’, shaking from side to side.

“I know we talked about it, but…” He looked away for a moment before turning back. “Is it because of Tyler and Boone? I’ll talk to them I—”

“No, Javi. It’s not because of… them.”

“Look, I’m sorry for CBing them today. We’re just a tight-knit group. I know they don’t seem as though they care about safety, but they do and—”

“Javi! Stop!” Cassandra came down with the hammer. “I said no! No team, no… none of that. Today should not have happened. You promised!”

“I know. I know I promised.” He agreed, lips pursing while his once dry palms began to sweat in anticipation of what may happen. He could feel it coming in around the bend. She was going to pick up and leave again, their calls would become less and less, and soon they’d be out of each other’s lives completely with this as their last hurrah, and he ruined it. “Guess I messed it up, didn’t I?”

She finally met his full watch and sincere guilt burrowed below her rubs, etching into a harrowed heart. The fence she built didn’t have a chance at keeping out homeward-bound dogs.

“It’s okay. It was… an accident. Safety first.”

“Won’t forget that your friend ran me into a ditch to prove a point, though.” She joked and smiled, then broke eye contact to stare back down at the publications below.

Midnight leapt over the two while they sat in common quiet, both enjoying the following notes of conversation until they agreed to head to bed.

“Well, did you replace the tires?” Jo spoke, carrying plates out of the dishwasher and placing them into the cupboard.

“Did I replace the tires? Before driving hours to a Flying J in the middle of nowhere?” Cassandra groaned, voice sarcastic in retaliation to her mother.

“Woah, someone’s heated,” Jo prompted with a grin. “This guy really got under your skin, huh Honey?” A mother’s daughter. Both of them had that in common, trouble with men. In fact. Jo stayed single after the loss of Bill. It pained her that they fought directly before his passing. That memory never left. Yelling at him. That was the last thing he experienced from their spousehood. Fighting.

Cassandra’s teeth gritted. “No. He was an asshole. They have a habit of… I don’t know… making everything stink. ” Sure the insult was immature, kind of childish. So what? He drove her off the fucking road! Then sent gender-reveal smoke into a goddamn natural disaster! One of the things didn’t exactly equate to the other.

“Mhm…” Jo smiled to herself from the kitchen, listening as her daughter rustled about in the living room. Probably organizing out of frustration. Old habits died hard. “Why don’t you take the Dodge with you next time?”

“The Dodge?” Cassandra stopped reorganizing and stood up straight, the dust on the mantle catching her focus. Dad’s . “Doesn’t it need a new battery?” She called back.

“Replaced it last year. It’s up to ‘snuff. New tires .” 2007 Dodge Ram. At the time it was brand new when they started building the house, despite advice from their financial specialist. These days it sat in the barn, touched solely on occasions when Jo missed her late husband and climbed into the driver's side again. She’d flip the radio on to old musical relics from their previous life together and stare in the rearview mirror, damaged by the what-ifs. Her therapist called the act ‘exposure’. Frankly, Jo didn’t care what it was called, all that mattered was the feeling of being close to him again.

Hesitation bred inside of Cassandra. No. No, the Dodge wouldn’t work. It… it was old. “The Ford is fine,” she replied quickly.

“Cassandra! The Ford damn well isn’t fine. I’m takin’ the truck for new tires, and you’re driving the Dodge ‘till then. Not gonna have you gettin’ in an accident on the backroads!” Jo snapped from the entryway, hands on her hips, watching her daughter's back tighten to the sound.

The ‘what I say goes’ voice. No backing down from that. Once her mother gave the final say, that was it. Considering Cassandra was living rent-free with only chores to perform, she hushed up and kept sweet. “Okay, I’ll drive the Ram.”

Success! Jo grinned to herself. “Alright, now get out there and take it out of the barn.”

The barn.

A horrible setting. Reminders everywhere. Cleaning it meant shoving things into corners that Cassandra had no interest in approaching. Memories were a weakness, a tug at heartstrings that were far too frayed.

Metal keys dangled from tense fingers. The barn door released an echoing sound upon entering and a deep, sinking feeling to take flight pulled at sensitive muscles. Beneath the haze of a swinging orange light sat the car in question.

"Point A to Point B," she instilled in herself as the truck came into regretful view. Faded maroon paint held scratches from rocks on gravel roads. And, sitting atop it all in the deck of heartbreak, sat the queen.

Dorothy.

A prototype stayed with the Dodge for local education. Growing up, Cassandra sat in the audience while her mom gave speeches at the school on tornado safety, and the implementation of internal scanning. Technology advanced, yet her father got to witness microscopic versions of it. Twenty years of history rendered to a hunk of junk in a barn.

Size 7 and a half feet scooted toward the beacon until the driver's side door rested mere inches away from her restless hands. The light gave just enough vibrancy to see herself in the window. Her reflection. Ribs created pain under a light blue halter top. The scent of expired gasoline that sat in retired jugs caused her nostrils to flare.

Daddy!

Did everyone see their nightmares in third person perspective? Hovering over their own childhood body? You live and the things around you are still there, and you can’t forget. The fear follows, the loneliness. San Francisco gave miles and miles of distance, but the nights still left her staring up at the ceiling after sheet metal tore into his body and he left.

And it was her fault.