Cliff's Good Deed

34 - Racing the Storm

Hannah's heart raced. She turned to Cliff, "Didn't you pay attention to the weather report today?"

"No. Did you?"

"No."

The sky hanging over the valley was bright and blue. The sky behind her, in the direction of the parking lot looked as if it was ushering in the end of the world. From horizon to horizon a black, churning shelf cloud advanced threatening to overtake and consume them. Filaments of lightning danced within the morass.

They were standing in the open on the highest point around, but what terrified her most was the rotation she was seeing bearing down on them.

The first thunderclap startled her into action. "We need to get out of here!"

"Back to the car," Cliff said. "Run!"

They started, but Hannah yelled, "The picnic basket." She couldn't abandon it.

"Leave it."

"We can't. It was my grandmother's and is a family heirloom."

Cliff grumbled something unintelligible, went back, and grabbed the basket. They hurried onto the trail and under cover beneath the trees.

A wall of wind blasted the trees at first hissing then roaring. Sheets of rain assaulted them mixed with hail pummeling the overhead branches, breaking them, showering them down onto their heads.

Hannah screamed and stopped, panicking, thinking she was going to die.

Cliff grabbed her hand and pointed. He shouted, "Over there."

He led her to a large, old, uprooted tree, its tangled root mass providing a modest canopy above a shallow depression where it had ripped out of the forest floor.

"Lie down," he shouted.

She hesitated. The depression was a muddy hole.

"Come on," Cliff yelled.

She crawled in, tight as she could against the root ball. Cliff joined her, wrapping his arms around her.

All around them tree limbs cracked and crashed down. The deafening roar of wind sounded like a locomotive. When the ground beneath her began to vibrate, Hannah could no longer bear it. She squeezed her eyes shut, covered both ears with her hands, and buried her face against Cliff's chest.

She was convinced they were about to die.

Hannah wasn't sure how long they remained there, but in time, she sensed a change in the air pressure. The hail had stopped but it still rained, gentler now. The wind had become less forceful.

With his arm around her, Cliff was stroking her back.

"It's passing," she mumbled.

"I think we should wait here a while longer," he responded.

A few minutes later, the rain ceased but droplets continued to drip from the leaves above. Hannah crawled from the depression and stood. She inspected herself.

"Ew." She was covered in mud. It pasted hair to her face and was caked to her shoes and clothes. As she swiped the worst of it from her arms and legs, she said, "Cliff, are you okay?"

He knelt in the muddy depression, leaning against the tree roots. "I don't know."

Hannah studied him. "What's wrong?"

"Something hit me on the head. I think it was a falling branch. I'm kinda dizzy." He tried standing but slumped back to his knees. He rubbed his hand across the back of his head and looked. "No blood. I'll be okay."