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Show Twisters . . . 64 we could see was a button off her old gardening sweater, "And my dignity," she was to say later, improving the story each time she told it. After getting her out, it was nothing for Arthur and me to scramble up those coils and out of the window, we'd had so much practice. By then, Stacey was shining the torchlight all around and under the trees so Smiley could see how our neighborhood had been obliterated. The house that once stood a hefty stone's throw from Smiley's simply didn't exist anymore, "Oh my , . ••* she said in a trembly voice »•„ . . oh my, oh my . • . I thought I was the only one." Her skirt flapped noisily against her skinny, bowed legs. Nobody was laughing now, Mrs, Smiley hung onto Stacey*s arm all the way to the Darlington's, As we neared their place, we could see firemen searching the two or three rooms where walls were left standing. In slickers and hard hats they were easy to spot. Their lights criss-crossed in the dark, slicing eerily through holes in the bedroom hallway. We could hear their voices calling back and forth. Suddenly, Arthur came to life. "Hey, that's our house!" He grabbed the light from Stacey, went crashing across their yard. He and one of the firemen talked a minute, "All clear, move on," the fireman called to the others. He jumped to the ground beside Arthur and they walked around to the street side of the remains. There, in the overlapping circles made by their lights, this guy sprayed a giant red X on the Darlington's cement foundation. I wondered why he was doing that. |