Read The Tornado Chasers Online
Authors: Ross Montgomery
‘
Ceri!
’ Orlaith screamed.
‘The photo! Now!’
Ceri’s camera hovered in the air before her, attached to her by the strap round her neck. She reached out for it frantically with her free hand, and with a cry of effort dragged it towards her. The tornado howled into black around us, and there seemed to be nothing else in the world but loudness and pain and confusion.
Ceri turned the camera towards us and took a picture.
And with that, the tornado began to pass.
The wind began to drop. The roar subsided, bit by bit. The air began to lift into lightness again. The crushing around us disappeared, and we began to lower to the ground.
One by one we let go of each other, and dropped onto the grass. We lay dazed for a moment, before picking ourselves up and looking around. The valley was devastated. Everywhere we looked were the fallen remains of the storm. The ground itself had been stripped bare, as if by acid.
But we had survived. The Tornado Chasers had done
it. We had fought against the impossible, and we had won. I leapt to my feet.
‘We did it!’
I cried.
‘We did it, we did it!’
In the distance the tornado roared away, pushed by the last of the stormtraps into the North. We clutched each other.
‘We did it!’
we cried.
And together we danced along the sides of the valley, our arms around each other, as far away the—
No.
‘Because we,’
he shouted,
‘are Tornado Chasers!’
‘And we are not afra—!’
Our words were cut off by an almighty crash beside us. We swung round, and gasped. The tornado was even closer now, bellowing down the valley towards us. And there, not a hundred feet away, an enormous black van had dropped out of the sky, bashed and battered by days inside the storm. It had hit the ground, and was tumbling towards us at lightning speed. I cried in fear.
‘It’s going to hit us!’
I shouted.
Callum leapt into action.
‘Quick!’
he said.
‘When I say jump, everybody jumps! Get it?’
Orlaith grabbed him.
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Just do it!’
he ordered.
The van still tumbled towards us, its doors ripped open, its windscreen shattered.
‘Ready?’
said Callum.
‘One, two … jump!’
Everyone jumped, and in that exact second we flew inside the van and hit the back wall with a tremendous
THUMP
, knocking the air out of ourselves. I glanced up. The van had bounced hard on the ground and was now airborne again, spiralling through the air as the tornado’s strength swung it round and round the valley.
‘Ceri, quick!’
cried Callum, springing back into action.
‘The photo!’
Ceri sat up, dazed, and fumbled for the camera slung around her neck. Callum grabbed the rest of us.
‘Everyone stand by the back doors!’
he ordered.
‘We don’t have much time before the van hits the ground again!’
The doors of the van had been ripped off long ago. On unsteady feet the four of us stood by the gaping hole as the van soared like a jet plane through the air, the tornado now a solid wall of wind behind us.
‘Now, Ceri!’
Callum screamed.
‘It’s our only chance!’
At once Ceri took the photo. Without a second to spare Callum grabbed us and swung us round to the open doors. I gasped in amazement. The van was plummeting back to the earth again, the ground flying towards us.
‘
JUMP!
’ Callum cried.
The five of us flew screaming out of the van just as it hit the ground with another sickening
CRASH
, shattering into scrap on the rocks beneath us. One by one we sprawled across the ground and looked up, dazed. In the distance the tornado had moved on, on towards the North.
Orlaith turned to Callum with a smile.
‘Callum – you did it!’ she cried. ‘You actually did it!’
I laughed. ‘Callum, you’re a hero!’
Callum smiled, and put his arms around us.
‘Oh, it was nothing, ‘he said. ‘Anything for my friends.’
We ran to him, hugging each other and laughing and laughing as—
No.
‘Because we,’
he shouted,
‘are Tornado Chasers!’
‘And we are not afraid!’
we all screamed with him.
The five of us held hands, and turned to face the tornado. It bellowed towards us down the valley, obliterating everything in its path, destroying all, leaving nothing.
‘Owen.’
I turned around. Callum was looking at me.
‘Before we do this,’ he said. ‘I need to talk to you.’
I balked. ‘Callum, we can’t talk now …’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean it! I have to talk to you because I might not ever get the chance again!’
The tornado whipped around us, howling, howling. Callum stared at me, trying to find the right words.
‘I’m sorry I was so horrible to you,’ he shouted over the wind. ‘All those times I told you you were pathetic and laughed at you, I’m really really sorry. I wish I’d never even said it. There are so many things I did that I wish I hadn’t done.
You were
You’re the bravest one out of all of us. That’s why I was always so horrible to you. I
thought
knew I could never be like you.’
The wind raged towards us,
erasin
destroying everything in the valley.
‘And I’m sorry for those times I pushed you in the nettles,’ he said. ‘
I did it because
I’m just sorry. I’m just so sorry.’
The tornado fell on us and devoured us, and
Owen
I reached out my hand.
‘Callum,’ I said. ‘It’s OK. I forgive you.’
He
I
This notepaper is kindly provided for the inmates of
THE COUNTY DETENTION CENTRE
Use one sheet per week
No scribbling
I wrote plenty more endings like those. I wrote hundreds. And they all went straight out the window. Because, Warden, I don’t know what happened to the others after Owen told me that I could leave. I don’t know because I took his offer. I ran away. I never saw the tornado.
This is why they call me Callum the Coward.
I kept running until the County officers found me in the next valley, and arrested me, and locked me in the back of their van while they went and searched for the others. They didn’t find them, of course – as well you know, Warden. There wasn’t a trace left of them. They combed the valleys for five days. And when they found nothing, all eyes turned to me.
They asked me endless questions about what had happened. Why hadn’t I disappeared with my friends? Why had we done it? Where had Owen gone? What happened to Ceri? To Pete? To Orlaith? Why are you the only one left, Callum? What makes you so special?
What happened to them, Callum?
I said nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the simple truth: that the others had been brave enough to stay, and I hadn’t. And then after a while, whenever I did start talking, the sound of my own voice made me feel sick. I had always talked to get myself out of everything, to lie, or bully, or cheat. Now, I didn’t want to talk any more. I didn’t trust anything that I had to say.
Neither did my parents. They came back home for a bit to see me – for a bit. They told me that I had to tell the police everything. And then they
signed the papers for my internment, and left. My babysitter drove me to County herself. She put me in my cell, kissed my head, and left. And with that, I had lost everything.
That is how I began my time as an inmate of the County Detention Centre. That is where I sat in my empty cell, scared and sad, and the guards told me that I had better start talking. Because until I did, and I finally told everyone what had happened, then I would never leave.
And here it is. My story. You’ve finally found it, Warden. Well done!
I wonder what you thought when you started reading it. I wonder if you had any idea why I decided to write my story as Owen. Why didn’t I write it as myself – as Callum the bully, the liar, the coward, the deserter?
Is it really such a mystery to you?
No one wants to read about someone who ran away. They want to read about heroes. About people who find the courage when they need it. And I never found mine. I never had any in the first place.
And speaking of running away – there’s another mystery here, if I’m not mistaken …
Where have I gone?
Well, that’s another story entirely.
Which unfortunately I’ve had to hide somewhere else. Everything will make sense once you find it, promise.
If you find it.
Good luck!
Yours sincerely,
‘Inmate 409?’
As long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be somebody else. Even before I heard of the Tornado Chasers. I never could stand being Callum.
‘Inmate 409?’
Luckily for me, your name is one of the first things they stop using when you come to County.
I whip round, quickly scrunching up the sheet of paper on the desk before me. I was so busy writing a new ending – where I save Owen and the others by riding away on motorcycles – that I didn’t even notice I was being watched. I slip the ball of paper out the window before the guard sees it and turn to the door.
My cell is small and cold. There’s not much to look at – a light bulb, a desk, a bed, a sink with a loose tile at the back. The guard is glaring at me through the hatch in the locked door.
‘Finally writing your confession, are you?’ he snaps.
I say nothing. The guard frowns.
‘Oh God,’ he groans. ‘You’re still not talking, are you?’
I nod.
‘Big surprise,’ he mutters. ‘Well, you’d better
start
talking, fast. It’s the day of your meeting.’
My heart stops. I knew that this meeting would happen one day. But I didn’t know it would be today. The guard unlocks the door.
‘Who would have thought,’ he said. ‘Six months you’ve had to write that flipping confession, and how much have you done? Not a word!’ He laughs. ‘You must
love
being here.’
The guard’s wrong. I don’t love being here. But then, he’s wrong about a lot of things. He doesn’t know that I have been secretly writing my story this whole time. That it’s hidden, page by page, behind the loose tile above the sink. But I don’t correct him. I don’t want to talk to him, or anyone. I just want to be left alone, and to write my story. That’s all I want any more.
‘Come on,’ says the guard. ‘The Warden’s waiting.’
He marches me up endless flights of stairs, to the glass door that lies at the end of a long corridor on the very top floor. As it gets closer the surface of my hands starts to prickle, and I feel like I’m about to be sick. We stop outside the door. I look down at the nametag on the wood panel.
THE WARDEN.
It will be the first time I’ve seen him since the Caves. I try to slow my heartbeat, to calm my breathing, to tell myself that I am not afraid. I can’t let him see me be afraid.
‘Come in,’ says a voice from inside.
I open the door, and I immediately stop. The view
– you can see the whole of the valleys here, running in great waves over Barrow and the hills beyond. It’s beautiful. This must be the only room in County that doesn’t have bars in the glass.
‘Well,’ says a voice. ‘Inmate 409.’
I turn. The Warden sits behind his desk, a paper folder in his hands. He wears his black suit and black glasses. He looks exactly the same as he did that day in the cave, a lifetime ago. The only difference now is the scar across the top of his head, where he must have hit the stone floor. He looks me up and down and raises an eyebrow.
‘You thought I was dead, didn’t you?’ he says dryly. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I did
wish
I was dead for a while, seeing as I broke both my legs when I landed, but eventually the County officers found me. Nothing a few months in hospital couldn’t solve.’
We stare at each other for a while. At least, I think we do. It’s hard to tell what he’s looking at behind his glasses. I keep my face blank, my eyes dead. I can’t let him see I’m frightened. The Warden waits for me to say something, in vain. After a while he holds out a hand to a wooden chair on the other side of the desk.
‘Sit down.’
I sit. The Warden holds up the paper folder and leafs through it. It has a picture of my face on the front,
taken back on the first day I was interred. I look much younger.
‘Inmate 409,’ the Warden reads, his eyes scanning over the file. ‘The Tornado Chaser.’
The memory of what happened rises up when he says the words, sudden and unexpected. I have a well of memories inside me, of everything that happened, a deep well that goes down beyond where I can get to them. Most of the time I can ignore it, pretend it’s not there, but I feel it now as it rises up, urgent and angry. I breathe gently, and push it back down. The Warden closes the folder and looks at me.
‘Do you remember the conditions of your arrest, 409?’ he asks.
I nod calmly, but say nothing. The Warden pauses for another moment, and then speaks.
‘We said that you had to explain to us exactly what happened. And until you did, we wouldn’t be able to let you go.’ He folds his arms. ‘There are people who need to know how you did it, 409 – so they can prevent anything like that from ever happening again. You do understand, don’t you?’
I nod. I understand completely. That is why I cannot tell them anything. If I did tell them what happened, it would all be over. They would release me from County
and I’d have to go back home. Back to everyone who knew me.
‘So why won’t you talk?’ asks the Warden.
And for the rest of my life, I’d have to face what happened that day.
I just shrug. The Warden looks at me for a long time.
‘You know I used to have children myself, 409?’
I say nothing. The Warden looks at me. I can see myself reflected back in his glasses. I look very small, and very far away.