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Show Twisters . . . 39 The storm wasn't over. No sooner had that shrill tornado moved on than the hail began. Once it got going, it hit us with the force of buckshot. That fast I knew the kitchen upstairs was gone, floor and all. Those marble-size hailstones were pouring in from somewhere, I thought of Mom's new sewing machine . . . and my bike . . . It didn't take long for Arthur to crawl back beside me, but even under the blanket those hailstones hurt like crazy smacking our heads and shoulders. We huddled together to protect Ryan, who was down in my lap again. Suddenly, I was hit with a sickness worse than Arthur's. Mom! Where was she? Did she get to Smiley's7 "Arthur 1" I cried, sitting up straight. "My mom!" "My-whole family--" he choked. In that second I could see my mother's car hurtling through the air . . . see it ripping open, the black funnel sucking her out and swirling her away . . . I could hear her scream! I started crying. "She can't be dead, she can't be!" I hit my head against the tile to make the pictures stop. "Shut up!" Arthur shouted. "Just shut up, will you?" He pulled away so we weren't touching and drew himself into the opposite corner of the shower. I didn't care. I felt as if someone had reached down my throat and turned me inside out. Another terrifying thought slammed into my head: What if we were the only ones alive? Three of us . . . out of 38,000 people . . . an entire city gone, bodies strewn all the way to the river . . . Chills raced up my arms, I was shaking all over. |
