Page 19 of Bolt To Me
Josie’s voice cracked through the doorway like a whip. “Get home, Carli. That’s no thunderstorm.”
Carli didn’t hesitate. She bolted, heart in her throat, jumping off the last step and sprinting toward her truck. Her hands fumbled with the keys, fingers slick with sudden sweat. She didn’t even notice when the bag of muffins hit the ground, the contents spilling into the street, and was immediately forgotten.
The moment she threw the truck into gear, the first gust of wind slammed into the side of it like a body. Gravel spit out from under her tires as she sped toward the Hayes ranch, windshield wipers barely keeping up as the rain began to fall, not soft or rhythmic, but heavy, punishing, sideways. Her phone buzzed in the cup holder, the screen lighting up in red.
TORNADO WARNING — WILLOW CREEK COUNTY — TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.
She swore, pushing the truck harder. The trees along the road were bent at terrifying angles now, their limbs whipping like invisible hands were yanking them. Leaves spun past her windshield in a frenzy. The power lines that lined the road swayed dangerously.
And then she saw it.
Her entire body locked up.
Just beyond the ridge, silhouetted in the sickly light, the tornado carved across the horizon like a rotating pillar of nightmare. It was wide, black, and alive in the way only something indifferent to your survival could be. It pulsed andspun, trailing a wall of debris that twisted through the hills, chewing everything in its path with unstoppable fury.
Her breath punched out of her lungs. “Jesus. No, no, no!”
The ranch was directly in its path.
She slammed into the drive, tires fishtailing in the churned mud. The fence was already gone, snapped like matchsticks. The barn sagged at one side, roof half-torn. The air was full of flying things, siding, branches, something that might’ve been a gutter. She barely remembered cutting the engine. She just ran.
The wind fought her every step like it wanted to throw her to the ground, like it knew how close she was to safety and was hell-bent on stopping her. Her hood flew off. Her hair lashed across her eyes. Her legs burned as she shoved herself forward, sprinting toward the guesthouse that shook visibly with each passing second. She reached the porch just as the sky dropped lower.
The front door groaned as she shoved it open, and she felt the shift in pressure instantly. Her ears popped, and the air grew dense, suffocating. She slammed the door shut behind her, locking it on instinct even though she knew locks wouldn’t hold back the sky. The lights flickered once. Twice. Then went out completely.
The house screamed. Wind clawed at the walls, howling through the eaves like it wanted in. Windows trembled. Nails creaked in the beams overhead. Somewhere, deep in the house, she heard the groan of wood giving way. The floor vibrated beneath her bare feet. A window in the living room blew out with a deafening shatter, spraying glass like shrapnel. She shrieked, throwing herself to the ground, ears ringing.
Everything shook. The air itself seemed to roar. The ceiling moaned above her. The very bones of the house shivered and groaned. She crawled on her elbows and knees, glassbiting into her palm as she scrambled toward the bathroom. The plaster cracked overhead. Another beam splintered. Somewhere, part of the roof tore clean off with a sound like the world breaking.
She made it into the tiny bathroom, slammed the door, and threw herself into the bathtub, curling into a ball and dragging every towel she could reach over her head. Her hands trembled violently on the fabric as she curled herself into the tiniest ball she could. She was in the safest room in the guesthouse, the innermost room without any windows. She was sobbing before she even realized it, sharp, gasping cries of panic that couldn’t be helped. “This is it,” she whispered to no one. “I’m not gonna make it. This is it.”
The tornado didn’t roar. It screamed. A freight train. A jet engine. A thousand wolves howling at once. The sound was too big to be real. Too loud to belong to the living world. It filled her ears, her lungs, her blood. The tub shifted. The walls groaned. She prayed. She sobbed. She held on as the world around her sucked all the atmosphere from her lungs and shattered things outside the room. The tub was shaking, the pipes groaning, and she screamed as she felt it come free and slide across the room, slamming into the wall and the toilet. And she was still screaming, her hands over her head, when it all just stopped.
Silence. Thick. Cold. Unnatural. A silence that wasn’t peace. Just absence. The void left after a monster leaves the room. And then the screaming wind started again, shaking the very foundation of the house. The shaking was so hard that it made her teeth chatter in her mouth, and she clutched her knees to her chest in the heavy tub.
She felt the pressure subside, and the wind slowly died. Her ears were ringing, and she was sobbing. She stayed in the tub for what felt like forever, paralyzed, unsure if she’d gone deafor if the world had ceased to exist. Her breathing echoed in the tiny space.
Then, as if proving she had not gone deaf, she heard tires, brakes, the slamming of a car door, and a voice outside, muffled by walls and distance, but unmistakable.
“CARLI!”
Cory. Her heart shot into her throat, and she sobbed louder.
“CARLI!”
She forced herself to move. Every muscle hurt. Her knees wobbled as she pulled herself up, opening the bathroom door with a shaking, hesitant hand. The hallway was filled with dust and broken glass. Part of the ceiling had collapsed just outside the living room, exposing beams and insulation to the sky. Rain dripped through in steady beats, soaking into the wooden floors.
“Cory?” she called out, her voice hoarse.
The front door burst open, and there he was, drenched, panting, mud streaking his jaw, eyes wild and desperate. He scanned the room like he was looking for a corpse. Their eyes met. She swayed, still barefoot, bruised and shaking. He crossed the broken floor in three strides and wrapped her up in his arms like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
She collapsed into him, clutching the soaked fabric of his shirt, sobbing into his chest. Her legs gave out, and he went down with her, pulling her into his lap like he’d carry her if she broke into pieces right there. “I thought I was gonna die,” she whispered, words fractured between tears. “I thought I was gonna die alone.”
His hand gripped the back of her neck, the other wrapped tight around her waist, grounding her as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I thought I lost you. I’m so sorry, Carli. I’m so goddamn sorry. I never should’ve left. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve…”
She cut him off, pulling his face into her hands. “You’re here. That’s what matters. That’s all that matters.”
His lips hovered just over hers. “I love you.” He brushed her hair from her eyes as the words tumbled from his lips, raw, honest, ripped from somewhere deep. “I didn’t know how to say it before. I didn’t know how to stay still long enough to make it mean anything. But I love you. I love you so damn much.”
