Hell of a Storm || TWISTERS AU

Chapter 1

"Good afternoon, passengers, this is your captain speaking. You, uh, may be aware we are experiencing some slight turbulence as we approach Will Rogers World Airport."

Everything was rattling. My tray table in front of me was rattling in its holster, my water bottle was rattling between my knees, my brain rattling around inside my skull. Worst of all, it sounded worryingly like the plane window beside me was rattling too, like there was something caught between the panes of plastic – or maybe like there was a crack somewhere.

The Fasten Seatbelt sign above our heads flicked on with a ping! that was barely audible due to the wind and the engine. The captain continued, "For your safety, we ask that you return to your seats immediately." A pause, then, "Flight attendants, please be seated."

I took a cursory glance at Theo beside me, who was looking more than a little green and had his eyes and jaw clenched shut. "We're fine," I assured him. Then, when he didn't answer, "You know, statistically, most crashes only occur when the plane actually lands. We're not even close to the ground yet."

"Not funny," he grunted, and a smile creeped onto my face. I'd known Theo since our college days, and I didn't often get an opportunity to wind him up, so finding Theo's kryptonite was a gift. Besides, I knew it couldn't be really bad; our masks would have flopped out of the ceiling by now if that was the case.

Before today, everything I knew about Oklahoma could be gathered up and held in the palm of my hand: a red state populated by blue-collar Americans, who were pro-life right up until a criminal sat down in the electric chair. But now, I realized, I actually knew one more thing about Oklahoma, something I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about. Not only was it smack bang in the Bible Belt, Oklahoma was home to some of the worst weather in the United States, right in the path of Tornado Alley. And Oklahoma City was putting on a show for us, the sky a pale foggy gray as far as the eye could see. I'd seen my fair share of bad weather before, but I'd never flown in it, and after today I wasn't sure I ever wanted to again.

"Cabin crew, prepare for landing," announced the pilot. In response, the plane bucked, like an unruly horse. Theo's hands wrapped around the armrests, his knuckles white against his olive skin, and slowly I lowered my hand on top of his. It was meant to comfort him, but he still jumped.

I looked out the window again and watched as we approached the airport. While the fog kept up, the journey became a little smoother, and before I knew it the wheels were unfurling and we were racing towards the tarmac. Against all odds, the pilots directed a touchdown so easy it was like we'd flown in perfect conditions. "We're here," I whispered to Theo. "You're fine."

"We're driving back to Washington," he announced.

I choked out a laugh. "Good luck with that."

It was past two o'clock in the afternoon by the time we made it off the plane, and even later when we picked up the keys to our hire car and headed off on the open road. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, I fiddled with the radio, searching for something, anything palatable. Every preset station had wall-to-wall country music, people wailing about lost loves and blue jeans. "If Morgan Wallen comes on, we're changing the channel," Theo said, and I nodded. But neither of us knew enough about Morgan Wallen to even recognise his voice – only enough to know he was beloved by anyone who didn't know (or didn't care) he was a racist, hypocritical drunk.

We drove out of Oklahoma City and west towards El Reno, where we were due to stay overnight before driving further out to attend a protest tomorrow. The rain followed us on our drive, accompanying us as if it was our tour guide, an indication our next few days were going to be damp and uncomfortable.