Excerpt 1: "Karen! Our sweet Karen," Roseanne wailed, ready to spring up the concrete steps leading to the storm cellar double-doors that Tom had just shut and bolted."
Tom clasped her in his arms. "She'll be alright, I promise. She left early this morning. Definitely in town by now, safe in some store's basement, if a funnel forms.
The iron-powdered steel doors rattled wildly, groaning and moaning as they resisted the well-over hundred-mile wind yanking at them, its intent to tear them apart.
"She just turned sixteen, Tom. Just got her driver's license," Roseanne persisted, her voice mirroring her fear and anguish of never seeing her child again alive and well. "She heard the forecast last night. Why did she go out?" "Sneak out, you mean," Tom said.
Roseanne entreated, "At least she left a note that she was going into town. She's only sixteen. Got a lot of growing up to do yet. Don't be angry with her, please. I know you are as worried about her as I am." "Of course, I'm worried about her. At least the boys are away on the field trip. She'd be safe, too, if she hadn't refused to go. Karen is going to have a lot explaining to do when she gets back." "If she gets back ..." Roseanne drawled, voice trembling. "She'll get back," Tom assured. "She's the stubbornest of our four." Leading Roseanne to an old couch in the corner, he added, "Let's pray, sweetheart. If the good Lord doesn't have a reason to take her back, he'll see to it that she gets home to us safely." ... Excerpt 2: "What— what happened? Everything around her shone a soothing pearl opalescence. "What's going on?" Her thoughts turned to her dog? "Muffy, where are you?" She turned to look in the back seat. Nothing met her gaze but the soothing iridescence. "Where— where am I?" "Karen ... child,"
She gazed forward at the two silhouettes coming slowly into focus. A lovely young woman and a handsome young man, oddly dressed in cowled robes as worn by simple folk in the Mideast circa the early part of the first century AD. "Who are you?" Karen asked. She swallowed nervously. "Where am I? Where's my dog? Wher— where's my car?" "You're here with us, child," the woman spoke gently, her voice as soothing to Karen's ears as the light was to her eyes despite its brightness. A terrifying image entered Karen's mind. Muffy barking at the Tornado funnel drawing near, its approaching breath .... Then an instant of nothing, and then the light, warm and soothing. "Am I dead?"... Excerpt 3:"Karen, Karen, Oh God—. "Karen, Karen, please, breathe, girl, please!" Odd, she thought, but her breath felt trapped behind a numbed heart. The pressure of lips forcing air into her mouth and lungs, followed by clenched fists pressing under her breastbone (what her biology text referred to as her sternum) both actions rhythmical and repetitious, seizing the numbness and shaking it, dissipating it, awakening her heartbeat. Air mingling with accumulating fluid in her throat. Karen coughed the fluid free. "Ohhh ... " she moaned,
"Where—, who?" Karen bleated, coughing, eyelids fluttering, opening and focusing slowly on the man's face bent over hers. No, he wasn't the saint. she recognized the face. He was one of the ranch hands, a geeky, gangling youth, quiet, conscientious and respectful. She remembered him also from high school. He was a year older than her and had just graduated. "Thai?" she murmured, weakly. As he slid his folded jacket under her head, she realized she was lying on the ground. She managed to turn her head, looking for her dog. She gasped at the sight of her car,...