Shepley looked back. "Go!" he said.

  We ran across two lanes and then paused on the far side of the grass median. Traffic was light but still moving in both directions. We stopped for a moment, and then Shepley pulled me forward again, across both lanes of oncoming traffic and then down the on ramp toward the gas station. A tall sign overhead read Flying J. People were running from the parking lot toward the overpass.

  Shepley stopped, and my chest was heaving.

  "Where are you going?" Shepley asked no one in particular.

  A man holding the hand of a grade school-aged girl ran past us, pointing ahead. "It's full! They can't fit any more!"

  "Shit!" I cried. "Shit! What do we do?"

  Shepley touched my cheek, worry tightening the skin around his eyes. "Pray it doesn't hit us."

  We ran together to two bridges that allowed the turnpike passage over the top of Highway 170. Large concrete pillars loomed over us, creating the underbelly where the metal met the hillside. The crevices of both bridges were already pregnant with frightened people.

  "There's no room," I said, feeling hopeless.

  "We'll make room," Shepley said.

  As we climbed the steep incline of the concrete hill, cars that were still crossing overhead sounded like bass drums. Parents had tucked their children into the deepest corners they could find and covered them with their own bodies. Couples huddled together, and a group of four teenage girls wiped their wet cheeks, alternating between cussing at their cell phones and praying.

  "There," Shepley said, pulling me beneath the western bridge. "It's going to hit the east bridge first." He led me to the center where there was a small space just big enough for one of us. "Climb up, Mare," he said, pointing to the small lip preceding the two-feet deep concrete niche.

  I shook my head. "There's no room for you."

  He frowned. "America, we don't have time for this."

  "It's coming!" someone from the west bridge cried.

  Shepley grabbed each side of my face and planted a hard kiss on my lips. "I love you. We're going to be okay. I promise. Get up there."

  He tried to guide me, but I resisted.

  "Shep--" I said over the wind.

  "Right now!" he demanded. He'd never spoken to me like that before.

  I swallowed and then obeyed.

  Shepley looked around, huffing and peeling his soaked T-shirt away from his torso. He noticed a man below holding up his cell phone.

  "Tim! Get up here!" a woman called.

  Tim slicked back his wet dark hair, continuing to point his phone in the direction of the tornado. "It's getting close!" he called back, smiling with excitement.

  Children cried out, and a few adults did, too.

  "Is this happening?" I said, feeling my heart thundering against my rib cage.

  Shepley squeezed my hand. "Look at me, Mare. It'll be over soon."

  I nodded quickly, leaning over to see Tim still filming. He took a step back and then began scrambling up the incline.

  I pulled Shepley as close to me as I could, and he held me tight. Time seemed to pause. It was quiet--no wind, no crying, almost as if the whole world had held its breath in anticipation of the next few seconds. This was a moment in time that would change the lives of everyone who had taken cover under the wrong bridges.

  Too quickly, peace was over, and the wind began to roar like a dozen military jets were slowly flying low overhead. The grass in the median below began to whip, and I felt like I was under a mile of water, the change in air pressure feeling heavy and disorienting. At first, I was pushed back a bit, and then I saw Tim being taken off his feet. He slammed to the ground, clawed at the concrete, and then grass before being sucked into the sky by an invisible monster.

  Screams surrounded me, and my fingers dug into Shepley's back. He leaned toward me, but as the funnel made its way to the other side of the east bridge and then ours, the air changed. Another person cried as she lost her grip and was pulled out from our hiding place. One by one, anyone not tucked inside the nook where the hill met the bridge was ripped away.

  "Hold on!" Shepley yelled, but his voice was snuffed out. He used every bit of his strength to push me further into the crevice.

  I felt his body pulling away from me. His arms tightened around me, but when I began to scoot forward, he released me altogether and dug his toes into the concrete, leaning into the wind.

  "Shep!" I yelled, watching as his fingers turned white, pressing against the ground.

  He struggled for a moment to hand me his backpack.

  I slid it over one arm and then reached out for him. "Take my hand!"

  His feet began to slide, and he looked up at me, recognition and terror on his face. "Close your eyes, baby."

  Once he said the words, he was gone, whipped out like he weighed nothing. I screamed his name, but my voice was lost in the deafening wind.

  The air pressure changed, and the suction stopped. I ran down to the bottom, seeing a dark blue twisting rope barreling down the turnpike, tossing semis like they were toys. I crawled out, and then I ran from beneath the bridge, looking around in disbelief, feeling the sting of the rain on every inch of my exposed skin.

  "Shepley!" I screamed, bending over. I held tight to his backpack, hugging it to me as if it were him.

  The rain faded away, and I watched as the tornado grew in size, gracefully gliding toward Emporia.

  I sprinted to the Charger, stopping at the top of the ditch. The turnpike was now a path of destruction with mangled cars and random pieces of debris lying everywhere. The wreckage from the semi and SUV were no longer there, a large piece of tin lying in its place.

  Just moments before, Shepley and I had been on a road trip to see my parents. Now, I was in the middle of what looked like a war zone.

  The water was still sloshing over the hood of the Charger.

  "We were just in there," I whispered to no one. "He was just in there!" My chest heaved, but no matter how many breaths I took, I couldn't get enough air. My hands hit my knees, and then my knees hit the ground. A sob tore through my throat, and I wailed.

  I hoped he would jog up to me and reassure me that he was okay. The longer I waited by the Charger without him, the more I panicked. He wasn't coming back. Maybe he was lying somewhere, hurt. I wasn't sure what to do. If I left to look for him, he might come to the Charger, but I wouldn't be there.

  I sucked in a breath, wiping the rain and tears from my cheeks. "Please find your way back to me," I whispered.

  Red and blue lights reflected off the wet asphalt, and I looked over my shoulder to see a police cruiser parked behind me. An officer hopped out and rushed around, kneeling next to me, and he placed a gentle hand on my back. Reyes was engraved on a bronze name badge pinned to his front shirt pocket. He tipped his blue felt hat, and the bronze star fastened to the front said Kansas Highway Patrol.

  "Are you hurt?" Reyes reached out with his thick arms, wrapping a wool blanket around my shoulders.

  I didn't realize how cold I'd been until the sweet relief of warmth sank into my skin.

  The officer loomed over me, bigger than Travis. He took off his hat, revealing a clean-shaven scalp. His expression was severe, whether he meant for it to be or not. Two deep lines separated his bushy black eyebrows, and his eyes sharpened as he looked down upon me.

  I shook my head.

  "Is that your vehicle?"

  "My boyfriend's. We took shelter beneath the overpass."

  Reyes looked around. "Well, that was stupid. Where is he?"

  "I don't know." When I said the words aloud, a new pain blazed through me, and I crumbled, barely catching myself as my palms flattened on the wet road.

  "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the backpack in my arms.

  "His ... it's his. He handed it to me before he ..."

  A high-pitch chirp sounded, and then Reyes spoke, "Two-nineteen to Base H. Two-nineteen to Base G. Over."

  "Two-nineteen, go ahead," a woman's voice said through the speaker. Her tone was flat, not at all overwhelmed.

  "I've got a group of people who were taking shelter under the Highway Fifty and I Thirty-Five junction." He scanned the area, seeing injured people scattered up and down the turnpike. "The tornado passed through here. Ten-forty-nine to this location. We're going to need medical assistance. As many as they can spare."

  "Copy that, two-nineteen. Ambulances are being dispatched to your location."

  "Ten-four," Reyes said, returning his attention to me.

  I shook my head. "I can't go anywhere. I have to look for him. He might be hurt."

  "He might be. But you can't look for him until you get that taken care of." Reyes nodded toward my forearm.

  A two-inch gash had opened my skin, and blood was mixing with rain, streaming crimson from the wound onto the asphalt.

  "Oh, Jesus," I said, holding my arm. "I don't even know how that happened. But I ... I can't leave. He's out here somewhere."

  "You're leaving. You can come back," Reyes said. "You can't help him right now."

  "He'll come here. Back to the car."

  Reyes nodded. "Is he a smart guy?"

  "He's fucking brilliant."

  Reyes managed a small smile. It softened his intimidating glare. "Then the hospital is the second place he'll look."

  America

  I touched the bandage on my arm, the skin around it still pink and angry from being cleaned and stitched. I felt more comfortable in the pair of baby-blue scrubs the nurse had given me to change into than my wet and cold tank top and denim shorts. I had been sitting in the ER waiting room for an hour, still holding the Reyes' wool blanket, trying to think of how to tell Jack and Deana what had happened to their son--not that I could anyway. The phone lines were down.

  The hospital had become a steady stream of the dead or dying, the wounded, and the lost. A dozen or more children had been brought in, covered in mud but otherwise without a scratch. From what I could tell, they'd been separated from their parents. Twice that number of parents had arrived, looking for their missing children.

  The waiting room had been turned into a triage of sorts, and I ended up standing against the wall, unsure of what I was waiting for. A very round woman sat a few feet away, hugging four young children, all their faces smudged with dirt and tears. The woman wore a bright green shirt that said Kids First Daycare in childlike font. I shivered, knowing the children she was holding were only a precious few of those who'd been in her care.

  My feet began to trudge toward the door, but a hand cupped my shoulder. For half a second, relief and overwhelming joy washed over me like a tidal wave. My eyes filled with tears before I even turned around. Even though Reyes was a welcome sight, the disappointment of him not being Shepley sent me over the edge.

  I choked on a sob as my knees buckled, and Reyes helped me to the ground.

  "Whoa!" he said. "Whoa, lady. Take it easy." His thick arms were as big as my head, and he had a permanent deep wrinkle between his brows. It was even deeper now as he watched my state of mind spiral.

  "I thought you were him," I said once I had recuperated, if it were possible after being that devastated--again.

  "Shepley?" he asked.

  "Did you find him?"

  Reyes hesitated, but then he shook his head. "Not yet. But I've found you twice, so I can find him once."

  I wasn't sure if I could feel more hopeless. Emporia had been hit hard. An entire wall of the hospital had been ripped away, insulation and glass littering the ground. Cars in the parking lot were stacked on top of one another. One was sitting in the branches of a tree. Thousands of people were without power and running water, and they were the lucky ones. Hundreds were without homes, and dozens were missing.

  Amid the devastation, I couldn't fathom where to begin to look for Shepley. I was on foot and had no supplies. He was out there somewhere, and he was waiting for me. I had to find him.

  I stood up. Reyes helped.

  "Take it slow," he said. "I'll try to find you a quiet place to wait for him."

  "I've been waiting for an hour. The only reason he wouldn't have come to the car or here to find me is ..." I swallowed the pain, refusing to cry again. "What if he's hurt?"

  "Ma'am"--he stepped into my path--"I can't let you--"

  "America."

  "Pardon?"

  "My name. It's America. I know you're busy. I'm not asking for your help, but I am asking you to step out of my way."

  He frowned. "You just got your arm sewed up, and you're going to hike out of town? It's going to be dark in a few hours."

  "I'm a big girl."

  "Not very smart though."

  I craned my neck at him. "Here's your blanket."

  "Keep it," he said.

  I sidestepped, but he countered.

  "Get out of my way, Reyes."

  I tried to step around him, but he blocked me again, sighing.

  "I'm getting ready to go back out on patrol. Give me five minutes, and you can ride along."

  I looked at him in disbelief. "I can't ride along! I have to find Shepley!"

  "I know," he said, looking around and gesturing for me to keep my voice down. "I'm going out that way. We'll both keep an eye out for him."

  It took me a moment to reply. "Really?"

  "But at dark ..."

  "I understand," I said, nodding. "You can bring me back here."

  "I'll ask around. There will be a Red Cross shelter. Maybe FEMA will be set up by then. You can't spend the night here. You'll never be able to sleep."

  I couldn't smile, but I wanted to. "Thank you."

  He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the appreciation. "Yeah. Cruiser's out this way," he said, gesturing to the parking lot.

  I slid Shepley's backpack over my shoulders and then followed Reyes outside, under the stormy sky. My hair still damp, I twisted it and then knotted it into a bun, away from my face. My feet slid against the wet soles of my sandals, my toes already aching from the chilly air.

  "Where are you from?" Reyes asked, pressing the keyless entry on his key ring.

  We both settled into our seats. The fabric seats felt warm and soft.

  "I grew up in Wichita, but I go to school in Eakins, Illinois."

  "Oh, at Eastern State?"

  I nodded.

  "My brother went to school there. Small world."

  "God, these seats are like memory foam and velvet." I sighed, leaning back.

  Reyes made a face. "You've been uncomfortable for too long. They're more like toilet padding and tweed."

  I breathed out a laugh through my nose, but I still couldn't form a smile.

  His eyes softened. "We're going to find him, America."

  "If he doesn't find me first."

  Shepley

  Rain spattered on my eyelids, tapping me awake. I blinked, covering my eyes with my hand, and my shoulder instantly complained ... then my back ... and then everything else. I pushed myself upright, finding myself sitting in a field of green plants. I guessed it was soybeans. Debris was all around me--everything from clothes to toys to pieces of wood. Fifty yards ahead, light glinted off the twisted metal of a bicycle. I grimaced.

  My shoulder felt stiff as I tried to stretch it, and I growled when the sting turned into fire shooting through my arm. My once white T-shirt was soiled with mud mixed with crimson at the site of the pain.

  I stretched the collar with my fingers to see a dirty mess of a laceration that spanned six inches from just above my heart to the edge of my left shoulder. When I moved, a foreign object moved with it, stabbing me from the inside. I touched the skin, sucking in air through my teeth. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but whatever had sliced open my skin was still in there.

  With clenched teeth, I spread the skin with my fingers. I could see layers of skin and muscle and then something else, but it wasn't bone. It was a piece of brown wood, about an inch thick. Using my fingers like tweezers, I dug inside, crying out while fishing the huge splinter from my shoulder. The squishing sound of blood and tissue combined with the discomfort made my head swim, but an inch at a time, I extracted the stake and let it fall to the ground. I fell back, looking up at the weeping sky, waiting for the dizziness and nausea to subside, still trying to wade through my last memories.

  My blood ran cold. America.

  I scrambled to my feet, holding my left arm against my side. "Mare?" I screamed. "America!" I turned in a circle, looking for the turnpike, listening for tires humming along the asphalt.

  Only the songs of birds and a slight breeze blowing along the soybean field could be heard.

  Sunbeams cascaded from the sky to my right, helping me get my bearings. It was mid afternoon, meaning I was facing south. I had no idea which direction I'd been thrown.

  I looked up, remembering my last words to America. I'd felt myself being pulled, and I hadn't wanted her to see it. I'd thought it would be the last thing I could protect her from. Then I had been launched into the air. The feeling had been hard to process, maybe something like skydiving but through a meteor shower. I had been pelted with what felt like tiny rocks, and in the next moment, a bicycle had rammed my legs and back. Then I had been slammed on the ground.

  I blinked, feeling panic rise in my throat. The turnpike was either in front of me or behind me. I didn't know how to find myself, much less my girlfriend.

  "America!" I yelled again, terrified she'd been sucked out as well.

  She could be lying twenty feet from me or still tucked in the crevice at the overpass.

  I decided to just walk south, hoping once I reached some sort of road, I'd be able to determine how far I was from the last place I'd seen my girlfriend. The soybeans grazed my wet jeans. My clothes were weighed down by the inch-thick layer of mud, and my shoes were like two blocks of concrete. My hair was caked in wet gravel and grime, and so was my face.

  As I approached the edge of the field, I saw a large piece of tin with the words Emporia Sand & Gravel. As I crested a small hill, I saw the remains of the company, the piles of materials scattered from the wind--the same wind that had carried me at least a quarter of a mile from where I had taken shelter.

  My feet slugged through the rain-soaked soil and sand, over the large pieces of wood frame and metal that had once been a large building. Trucks were overturned more than a hundred yards away.

  I froze when I came upon a group of trees. A man was twisted in the branches, every orifice filled with pea gravel. I swallowed back the bile bubbling up in my throat. I reached up, barely able to touch the sole of his boot.