Whirlwind. Rick Mofina

she made it to the entrance where she joined the others inching their way inside.

      “Please hurry, please!” Jenna pleaded over the rushing winds.

      Known as the Saddle Up Center, the large square building had been constructed decades ago in a pole barn design with a concrete floor, wooden frame, metal walls and a metal roof. It housed rows of vendors’ tables displaying clothes, furniture and collectables. Hundreds of worried shoppers were jamming into it.

      Foreboding filled the air. The warning siren was accompanied by the furious, staccato bombardment of debris striking the walls and roof. The building shook as if under artillery attack.

      People with working cell phones shouted out reports.

      “A lot of injuries in Lancaster!”

      “Transformers are blowing, fires everywhere!”

      “A tornado is heading this way!”

      There was a loud bang; a streetlight pierced the roof, its large arm swaying perilously above the crowd.

      The center’s lights began flickering as debris hammered the building and the wind howled.

      “She ain’t gonna hold much longer!” a man shouted.

      As Caleb cried, Jenna stared at the roof. The wooden trusses supporting the roof began bending and cracking. She craned her neck, searching for someplace, anyplace, to go.

      “Mommy!” Cassie was sobbing.

      She was heavy in Jenna’s arm and she had to put her down.

      “Mommy, please, no! I’m scared. Hold me!”

      “Sweetie, we have to find someplace safe.”

      Jenna’s heart was pounding as she looked for a stairway to a basement, a cellar, a grandstand, anything to protect her children.

      There was nothing.

      Oh God, please help us!

      The roof began shifting. A steel trash drum punctured it like a bullet, smashing into a vendor’s stall. Then a small car with terrified people inside hurled through the top of one wall, crashing down onto the sea of helpless shoppers. People screamed while others tried to lift it from the victims.

      The building’s walls began to ripple from the pulverizing wind. Jenna’s breathing quickened, the blood rush in her ears keeping time with her heart. She got down on her knees and pulled Cassie and Caleb’s stroller closer to her.

      We’re not going to die here.

      Someone grabbed her shoulder.

      “This way!” a woman shouted into her ear. “Come with me! It’s safer this way!”

      Jenna recognized the red-haired woman she’d met earlier, who’d fussed over Caleb.

      “You look like you need a hand! Let me take him for you—we need to cut across the floor!”

      Jenna had no time to think. She let the woman take control of Caleb’s stroller. Jenna carried Cassie while the man accompanying the woman cleared the way for them. Her pulse galloping, Jenna still savored a degree of relief.

      Amid the noise and confusion they found a corner where four huge concrete planters were stored against a wall. Keep us safe here! Please keep us safe! The planters were about three feet tall and three feet square with a narrow gap between them that no one was using.

      The roar grew so intense Jenna felt vibrations in her rib cage as the earth began trembling.

      The woman pushed Caleb’s stroller into the gap between the planters; Jenna followed, holding Cassie. They hunkered down as chunks of wood began raining from the roof.

      Adrenaline pumping, Jenna’s body quaked and she begged Heaven to keep her family safe.

      As the man tried to pull a canvas over them, Jenna saw the winds suck the doors from the building, then some people.

      The roof began twisting as trusses gave way and large beams fell on helpless people. Chunks of the building’s wall started ripping away, then the roof was gone, people vanished up into black swirling clouds. Metal, wood and debris rained down on Jenna and the others.

      Tears streamed down Jenna’s face.

      Please help us! Keep my children safe! Don’t let us die!

      The heavy planters began shifting.

      During horrible chaos Jenna held Cassie tight and held the stroller’s frame as the wind tried to tear it away. The kind stranger was holding on, too.

      Lord, please help me!

      The last thing Jenna remembered was hanging on to her children and praying before something struck her head. She saw stars before everything went black.

      * * *

      Jenna Cooper was floating.

      She was adrift under a brilliant sun as diamond waves of warm water lapped on a white-sand beach. Blake was beside her, Caleb was napping between them, shaded by their towels. Cassie was making sand castles.

      Totally content, Jenna watched the gulls gliding above them, circling, shrieking, inviting her...

      ...the shrieking...pulling her up from the beach...taking her higher, farther and farther from Blake and the children...no...she can’t leave them...the shrieking...no...she’s not ready to leave them...she’s rising faster...this can’t be happening...

      Jenna’s eyes flicked open, squinting and adjusting to shafts of light piercing the latticework above. Where am I? A million muddled thoughts streaked across her mind as she blazed through an inventory of sensations. She was on her back. She wiggled her toes, her fingers, took a deep breath. No discomfort. Where’s Blake, the children? She thought she heard the clamor of radios in the distance. She coughed, twisted grit from her eyes, feeling warmth next to her and a familiar snuggle.

      “Mommy!”

      “Cassie!” Jenna moved to check her in the weak light. Cassie had cuts on her little cheeks. “Are you hurt, sweetie? Are you okay?”

      “I think so. You got a big ouchy on your head.”

      Jenna felt some swelling on her forehead and touched her fingers just at the hairline. It was tender, sticky and her fingertips glistened with blood.

      “I guess I got a little bump, honey.”

      Cassie’s chin crumpled and she cried. “I’m scared. What happened, Mommy?”

      Images flashed before Jenna: The market, the storm, seeking shelter, a red-haired woman helping with Caleb, taking cover by the planters, everything going dark, the building breaking apart, Jenna’s hand holding the stroller.

      Now her hand was empty.

      She searched the area around her.

      Where’s my baby?

      “Caleb?” she said. Then, the scream ripped from her throat: “Caleb!”

      3

      Dallas, Texas

      In the hour before the storm, Kate Page, an intern reporter at the Dallas bureau of the global news service, Newslead, was at her desk on the phone.

      She’d taken a cold call from Cody Warren, a sixteen-year-old high school student whose father had been killed last week in a hit-and-run case just south of Dallas.

      “Can you help us find my dad’s killer, please, ma’am?”

      Kate adjusted her grip on her handset as he continued.

      “We got to get the word out. Police say they have no leads, nothing.” Cody’s voice broke. “We buried him yesterday.”

      Over the years, Kate had kept an emotional distance from the people she’d faced while reporting on tragedies. But she never