Date: 17 Apr 1993 14:45:45 -0400 (EDT) From: Brian Willard Subject: Storm Brewing, Part I To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com, aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu, mdb@cisco.com Message-Id: <01GX4C6FAXSY90N3WO@UNCA.EDU> Organization: University of North Carolina at Asheville Special thanks to Mark Baushke and Terri Librande, who assisted me in the posting of this story. I should be able to post via normal methods by the end of the week. Please forgive any type-o's -- I'm not a typist!! "Storm Brewing" Part I by Brian Willard "Hold it steady. Wow, look at that lightning!" Sam turned sharply and almost hit the man standing beside him with the video camera he was holding. "Whoa, what are you doing? Over there! Are you okay, Darren?" "Let's just say I'm feeling a bit edgy today," Sam replied. "Look! Funnel cloud emerging at ten-o-clock!" the kid yelled. Sam still didn't know what he was supposed to be filming. The kid that was with him seemed pretty interested in the thunderstorm a few miles away. Sam had heard of the guys that go chasing thunderstorms, and he prayed that he wasn't one of them. He looked up ahead at the storm. Maybe he was supposed to film the... "Tornado! Get it! Are you rolling, Darren?" "Ohhh, boy!" He stood there watching as the black funnel worked its way toward them. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm and jerked him so hard that he nearly dropped the camera. "Come on! To the truck. Hurry!" the kid screamed, "You drive, I wanna watch this baby!" Sam turned around and bolted toward the dark green van a few yards away. The kid opened one of the back doors and hopped in. Sam got into the driver's seat. "Which way do I go?" Sam asked, panicking. "Away!! Just step on it!" the kid replied. The van kicked up some dust and screeched onto the highway. It was beginning to rain, and Sam wondered where the hell Al was. Just then the hologram appeared in the seat next to him. "Faster, Sam!" he yelled, "That's a tornado!!" "I know it's a tornado, Al!" "Al's not here, Darren. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" a voice from behind said. "You've got to find shelter or you'll both be killed!" Al cried. "Well help me find a place to stop then!" Sam snapped back. "Don't stop! Just keep driving, but faster!" said the kid. "In the original history Darren and Billy were killed trying to outrun a tornado. You've got to stop, Sam!" "Where, I don't see anything," Sam said. "Over there, Sam!" Al said, pointing to a small farmhouse with a storm cellar. The van's brakes squealed as it made a hard turn to the right and off the side of the road. Sam pulled up next to the house and yelled, "Get out!" to the kid in the back of the van. "What are you doing, Darren? We'll be killed!" "We will be killed if you don't just follow me, Sam! The storm cellar's over along the side of the house. Hurry!!" Al yelled impatiently. "Just follow me!" Sam said to the kid as he opened the doors to the cellar and jumped down in. He pulled Billy down in after him and shut the doors, latching them with the thick wooden bar." "Darren, why did you stop? We could've outrun that thing," Billy panted. "No we couldn't have Billy. The van can't go that fast," Sam said, also out of breath, "Al?" "What do you keep calling Al for?" inquired Billy, "He's not with us." "I guess I just keep thinking you're him, that's all." "You know I have nothing in common with Al Calavicci. Come on, Darren." "You know Al Calavicci?" Sam asked. "Of course I..." The wind began to howl so loud that Sam couldn't even hear himself think. Also, it was dark enough that he didn't dare move with fears that he'd step on, or into, something. He didn't know if Al was in the cellar with him or not, and he wondered how Billy and Darren knew him. Sam waited in terror as he heard what sounded like a freight train pass over the house, and he could hear things crashing and breaking outside. Then there was silence. ...Part II to follow shortly -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian Willard | "I'm just gettin' warmed up" UNC-Asheville | Al Pacino - Scent of a Woman --------------------------------------------------------------------------------