The Man and The Outlaw

Chapter Twenty

The dawn came warm and clouded the next day. There was a thick, heavy feel to the air, so much so that walking felt almost like swimming in a shallow pond that had been warmed by the sun. Walker and Clara were both thoroughly soaked with sweat by the time they'd packed up and headed out, long before the sun had made its first appearance from behind the cloud coverage. They crept to the edge of the tree line, both of them straining their senses to try and pick up any signs of others in the area. Todd and anyone he had talked into coming with him could've been anywhere and the last thing Clara and Walker wanted was to stumble upon them accidentally.
The coast was clear, and they continued the trek towards Riverport at a quick pace. Their horses were well rested, and their eyes were clear. Any unfinished conversation from last night had been forgotten, at least by one of the two.
As they rode on, Clara felt a sense of revitalization. With the sun, still hidden behind the clouds, but rising instead of setting, she felt like their escape from Todd was a much more attainable goal than it had seemed yesterday evening. They were making good time and she had Walker's words on reply in her head. She'd forgotten that there was more he'd wanted to say to her, but she would never forget what he'd told her in the moonlight and how it had made her feel. Everything was looking up. If something was there to stop them, Clara could not see it.
A few hours, and several miles, later, "something" fell right out of the sky, nearly on top of them, and it was a threat neither Clara nor Walker had ever anticipated.
The wind had picked up and the air had gained a chill as they kept on. The sky and its clouds had taken on a dark, yellowish tint. The horses had begun to act strange, huffing and rearing every so often, skittering and wandering from The Trail more than usual, so that Clara was correcting hers every few steps. They kept jerking their head up as if they were watching the skies like the two that rode on their backs were. The darkest part of the heavens loomed before them like the sky itself could burst open and swallow them whole at any moment.
"That doesn't look good," Walker said, pulling the collar of his jacket up and coughing briskly into a closed fist. Clara hadn't woken to any coughing or retching last night, and she'd taken it as a good sign. Maybe whatever was wrong with Walker had taken a turn for the better. She still made a mental note to mention a doctor when they hit Riverport.
"Looks like it could turn twister," Clara replied, surveying the clouds that bombarded the horizon like a wall. Sheets of rain fell in the distance and the trees around them were beginning to sway harder.
She and her father had ridden out many twisters at the farm while she was growing up and she was terribly familiar with the signs that accompanied them. She remembered one time in particular where they'd barely gotten into the shelter before the storm hit. When they emerged after it was over, there was one less barn on the property than there had been before. Nothing stood there anymore except the concrete foundation and some debris. She had been young, and it was shocking to see something she'd thought was so permanent cease to exist in a matter of moments. Looking back now, she wished she'd heeded that lesson better. Things were never a guarantee, no matter how much it felt like they were.
"If it does, we're going to have to find somewhere to take shelter," Walker told her, hesitating ever so slightly as he spoke. Remembering how long it had taken to convince her to stop last night, he didn't think she'd be too happy with this statement.
Clara knew the power of those funnels from the sky, sounding like freight trains, spinning air that moved so fast it could lift entire buildings, tear them apart and fling the debris for miles. She knew that they weren't anything to mess with or take lightly and being outside without a structure in sight was already dangerous enough. She knew that Walker was right. Even Todd Pryor was no match for a twister.
"We'll keep an eye on it, see if it starts to funnel," she agreed, and they rode on.
They didn't have to wait for too long.
About thirty minutes later, as they watched, the big wall cloud ahead of them began to grow a tail. It was wispy and thin at first, stretching tentatively towards the ground like a new swimmer dipping their toe into a pool to test the temperature. Walker glanced sideways at Clara as they slowed their pace. Clara's gaze was locked on the sky. She could feel a little trickle of fear at the base of her neck.
The adolescent twister, still undecided, retreated back into the clouds for a moment before reappearing and committing to its journey. It spun faster as they looked on, stretching all the way to the ground in under a minute, gaining width and strength as it went. The wind picked up all around them, Clara's hair whipped around her face and Walker put a hand on his hat to keep it from blowing off his head. They'd reached the rain too. It was cold and soaked through their clothes quickly.
As the twister touched down, Clara could see debris flying up around it, whirled by the power of the storm. Dirt, uprooted trees, chunks of earth and rock all got picked up and thrown around, trapped within the spiral of moving air and rain. Lightning struck to the left of them, and thunder rolled over their heads. The storm was headed right for them, and it was coming on fast.
Clara jerked the reins and veered her horse off The Trail. Walker followed her.
"We've got to find low ground," she said. "I think there's a ravine over here on the right."
Walker followed without objection. It was the only shot they had, and they took off towards what Clara hoped would be a deep ravine. The wind had grown even stronger, their clothes whipping against the bodies as the rain continued to pour. Their horses struggled to keep a straight path as the they weaved amongst some trees and the ground began to fall away beneath them. Clara could see a stream running at the very bottom, the surface pocked as each drop of rain struck it.
The elevation change of the ravine, from top to bottom, was probably around ten feet. They reached the bottom and jumped from their horses. Walker glanced skittishly around at the trees above them, leaning with the wind and creaking dangerously, as Clara yanked their gear bags from their animals.
"These trees look about ready to bash my skull in," he said, having to nearly shout to be heard as the twister drew closer and its noise drowned almost everything else out.
"It's the best we've got," Clara replied, dragging Walker's bag over to him. "If we go back up there, we're dead for sure."
She handed the pack to him. The twister was so close now that the roar of it was a constant in their ears. Clara didn't bother trying to talk over it but instead showed Walker exactly what they needed to do. She lay down at the lowest point of the ravine, so soaked from the rain already that she didn't bother to avoid the stream, and put her pack over her head and neck, protecting the most vulnerable parts of her from any flying debris. Just as she felt Walker lay down beside her, something hard struck her in the side of the thigh. She glanced up to see what it might be and to make sure that Walker had followed her demonstration correctly.
The trees around them were nearly bent in half by the force of the wind and Clara knew that the twister had to be nearly on top of them. If all went well, it would skip right over the ravine and she and Walker would escape with just some cuts and bruises. If it didn't go well...
Clara shook the thought from her head and pressed her face back into the damp earth, holding her pack tightly and muttering a quick prayer to Heaven. She felt something hit her arm and she jumped but it was just Walker. He laced his arm with hers, locking their elbows together, before regripping his own bag. She hadn't realized that she'd been trembling until his comforting touch stilled her. Panic still rose inside her as all sound outside of the roaring of the twister was overpowered but she thought only of Walker's arm against hers. If they died, it would be together.
A tree went down near them, cracking with a sound like thunder. Clara tried to keep her breathing as steady as she could, her heart hammering. She could feel Walker straining, clenching his pack as tight as he could as the noise and the wind crescendoed above them. Clara thought for sure that they were goners as she felt the tips of her shoes lift ever so slightly off the ground beneath her and a sort of upward sucking change in the wind threatened to whisk them away. Everything was so loud that she couldn't think anymore. Her mind was a roiling mess of fear and anxiety. Something whipped around her arms, scratching them up and then vanishing in an instant. Walker grunted beside her as she heard something strike him in the side with a loud thud.
One last thought occurred to Clara as she lay there, knowing beyond a doubt that they were going to die at last. To come so far and be struck down by an act of God seemed like such an unfair twist of fate.
Maybe my cause just wasn't righteous enough.