Tornado Tunnel

If Mr. H. hadn’t been such a hardass, none of them would have been stuck in a concrete box while a tornado ripped up the Maple Grove parking lot.

John asked at 8:15 p.m. if they could please close early. The emo girl had gone back to Wendy’s after walking all the way across the mall, bearing bags full of leftover fries plus a half Sprite, half Orange Fanta just for Elena, to let them know about the tornado warning. 

The bookstore didn’t have a TV, but when no more customers dropped in after 8:30 and the mall grew unnaturally quiet, Mr. H. said: “I guess we should take a peek out back. Boys, let me know how it looks.”

When Caleb pushed open the delivery doors, the wind caught and flung them both out like steel shutters. He and John wrestled the doors shut as Caleb cursed breathlessly at the storm, Mr. H., and (for some reason) the Wendy’s girl.

“I hate driving in the rain,” Elena said after they returned, wet and irritated. “My mom said I’m a road hazard. She said take the city bus if I have to, but maybe it’s not running if there’s a tornado?”

“My truck’s got four-wheel drive,” Caleb told her. “I can drive you home. I bet Spock can’t even drive, her dad’s always picking her up.”

“Her name’s Wendy and wow, that’s super rude. She brings us food and you wouldn’t like it if I called you Scarecrow or Stringbean.”

“Her name’s Wendy, for real?” He laughed gustily. “Hey John, did you know Spock – that weird girl in love with Elena, she works at Wendy’s and her name is literally –” 

“Time to lean, time to clean,” Mr. H. called. “Caleb, run the vacuum. John, bathroom.”

“Mr. H., can we go home as soon as we’re done?”

“You know it’s not up to me, John,” was his curt reply. “Corporate tracks our sign-out times. You think I want to stay?”

“Bet everyone else gets to leave early,” Caleb muttered. 

“I don’t care what other managers are doing, no one here is leaving before nine. I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “Please count down your register, Elena, don’t worry about shelving.”

People hurried past the bookstore entrance. Wendy from Wendy’s came back and offered to drive Elena home.

“I got a nice car,” she said, quiet so no one could eavesdrop. “It’s new and really safe. I’d be happy to drive you.”

“My boss won’t let us leave,” Elena told her. “It’s okay. I live five minutes away, I’ll make it home. I’ll just drive slow.”

Wendy shook her head, soot-black hair sifting over her face. “I’ll wait. I can follow you, at least, make sure you get home safe. Unless you don’t want me to?” 

“As long as you don’t mind waiting,” Elena told her, blushing. Wendy smiled, took her hands just long enough for Elena to notice the cool press of her rings, and went to browse fiction.

Finally, at 9:20 p.m., Mr. H. pulled down the shutter and secured the accordion gate. “Let’s use the tunnel to be extra safe,” he said, jangling his keys. “I’ve got a little flashlight.”

The tunnel wasn’t cylindrical, which would have been fun to walk through. It was just a smooth concrete corridor, about forty feet long, behind a plain steel door by Elder Beerman. The tunnel let out in the south-end parking lot. No one had access except for store managers and security.

“I don’t like using the tunnel,” Caleb muttered. “Feels like the walls are gonna start closing in.”

They reached the door and Mr. H. unlocked it. He strode down the corridor to the steel door at the other end, leaving the four teenagers to catch up or be left in the dark.

“Careful, Mr. H.,” Elena said, just as he pushed open the far door.

They’d all seen Jurassic Park, and the roaring wind was like the T-rex at the end: primal, malevolent triumph as the world fell down.

The first few rows of cars were all gone, the rest of the parking lot hidden by rain pouring down from eerie, greenish-black thunderheads. Gouges and debris in the manager space suggested that the wind had picked up Mr. H.’s blue Dodge Neon, thrown it down a few times, and finally swooped back to carry it off. 

A half-dead maple tree rolled across the lot like a tumbleweed, bouncing and crackling, and somehow Caleb was first to grasp the danger.

“Close it! Close the door!” He lunged across Mr. H., still staring at the glittery spray of glass in his parking space, and hauled the door shut. There was a huge crunching thud as the tree hit, followed by the shivery squeal of branches raking across the exterior.

“Holy shit,” John whispered. He was sixteen, younger than Caleb and Elena although nearly a foot taller, just over two hundred pounds. “We almost got killed by a tree. You saved us, man, good job.”

“Let’s go back to the store.” Elena’s hands were freezing, and she’d begun to feel dizzy. “We’ve got food and water there and we can sleep on the floor. Mr. H., maybe – we can pay for them, but maybe we can take the flannel blankets from the Curl Up With a Book wall?”

Mr. H. closed his eyes, thinking. The keychain flashlight’s beam wavered. “Maybe we should wait here for now. Wendy, how long is the warning in place?” 

“Midnight, I think it said. So we’ll be here awhile.”

“I’ll go get the blankets,” Caleb volunteered. “Better safe than sorry and Elena’s cold.” 

Mr. H. passed him the key. “You have to unlock this door to get out. Don’t worry about the gate, just pull the shutter again when you leave. Get all the water from the mini-fridge. And ... hmm ... two or three wastebaskets with liners. In case someone has to go.” 

John snickered, and Elena said, “Oh, good thinking. We won’t be stuck here that long, though, will we?”

No one replied. Caleb saluted and left. John thoughtfully wedged the door open with one of his sneakers.

“Ah, shit.” Mr. H. winced at his own language. “Sorry, girls. I should’ve asked him to grab some of those clip-on book lights. This flashlight’s too small and I think it’s running low.”

“Switch it off after Caleb gets back,” John suggested. “We can nap in the dark, no problem.” 

Twenty minutes crawled by. 

At last the door banged open and Caleb rushed in like floodwaters, arms full of rolled plaid blankets. “Take them, take them, I got cold drinks down my shirt! John, is that your shoe? I smelled it all the way down the hall, man, put it back on so we don’t all suffocate.”

Mr. H. handed out a blanket and two small water bottles each. Wendy shook her hair back and smiled up at Elena, teeth gleaming, from where she sat hugging her knees.

“We could share body heat,” Elena said, voice trembling only a little, and Wendy beamed. She scooted over so they could double up on blankets.

“We could share body heat,” Caleb said sweetly to John, who shoved him into a wall. 

“Boys, no roughhousing,” Mr. H. said distractedly. “Caleb, where’s my key?”

The flashlight beam flickered and steadied again.

“Please tell me you have my key. I don’t have a spare.”

“I left it on the counter,” Caleb told him, contrite. “I’m sorry, Mr. H., I had it in my hand and I set it down so I could handle everything.”

John stood, slung his blanket over one shoulder, and went to check the door. The lock had engaged automatically. 

“Why does it lock from the inside? How fucking stupid is that?!”

“Caleb, watch your mouth,” Mr. H. barked. “It locks so no one can break in after hours. The door with a push bar doesn’t lock. The other side’s just a panel, no doorknob, but someone determined could still get in.”

“It’s okay,” Wendy told Elena. “My manager’s got a key and so do a bunch of people. They’ll check the tunnels in the morning, and we’ve got blankets and water. We’ll be fine.”

There was a long silence.

“I didn’t get trash cans but I grabbed a bunch of bags from the storeroom,” Caleb said, shifting uncomfortably. “If anyone has to go.”

“It’s possible,” Mr. H. said, sounding as if the words hurt, “that if the mall is badly damaged, it will not open tomorrow.” 

“Someone has to check the tornado shelters,” Wendy said, too loudly for the narrow space. “Where else would people go in a fucking tornado?”

“Language, please,” Mr. H. said, but she cut him off. 

“You’re not my fucking boss. My parents will freak out when I don’t come home and I bet theirs will too, and the fire department’s gonna find us.”

“We can just use the other door,” Caleb snapped. “It’s not a permanent tornado.”

“The tree’s blocked it,” John told him. “We tried opening it just a crack when you were gone. We’re stuck unless it blows away again.”

“It might be a good thing, blocking the door from other debris,” Mr. H. said halfheartedly. 

His flashlight flickered again, as if on cue, and then went out. 

“Well, fuck,” Elena said. Her voice was tiny in the dark.

John remembered eighth grade, when the guide had turned off all the lights during a trip to Ohio Caverns. In the caves, that total darkness had pressed at his mouth and eyes and ears, wanting to fill him up like smoke in a bottle.

No one spoke for some time.

Tree branches scraped over the outer door. Wendy pictured them as gigantic spider legs and shuddered. Elena wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and apparently she wasn’t too scared to blush so hard her face felt hot.

“Try to get some sleep,” Mr. H. said. “Time will go faster if we sleep.”

The girls curled up together, one blanket and Wendy’s flannel shirt spread underneath. John wished he were smaller.

He fell asleep sitting up, blanket tucked under his chin, and woke with a stabbing pain in his neck. 

“I said, where’s Caleb?” Mr. H.’s voice was sleep-roughened, distorted by fear.

John reached out until he stubbed his fingers on the interior door. “Not over here.” 

“Caleb, knock it off,” Elena said sleepily. “Ow!” 

“Sorry,” Mr. H. said, and John could hear him trying to open the push-bar door again. “He can’t just be gone, there’s nowhere to go. Caleb, wake up!”

Elena and Wendy stood to help, feeling along the egg-smooth walls. Wendy ran into John, and he steadied her carefully by the shoulders.

She tried the doorknob again - he could hear it rattle - but the door was definitely locked and far too solid even for John to break down. 

“Okay,” Mr. H. said, baffled and upset. “You two link arms and walk towards us. Elena, take my arm, we’ll meet in the middle.”

They did so, stopping a few inches apart. Wendy let go to hug Elena, stroking her long hair and speaking to her so softly John couldn’t catch a word. He wished someone would think to comfort him. 

Caleb was gone. Unless he’d somehow stuck himself to the ceiling, there were now only four people in the tunnel. 

“I can’t,” Mr. H. said abruptly. “Caleb, if you’re hiding, you win. We can’t find you and I can’t worry about it right now. Girls, please stay close to each other. I’ll stay right by the entrance door. John, you okay setting up by the exit?” 

“Sure thing,” John replied, pleased at how confident he sounded. His throat felt as though someone kept tightening it with a screwdriver.

“We’ll check in every so often,” Mr. H. said. “So I would say ‘David here,’ then you girls, and then John.”

“Elena here,” she said, sounding exhausted.

“Wendy.”

“John here by the door.” 

“Thank you, John,” said Mr. H. “Can you check outside every hour or two?” 

He nodded, then realized that was useless. “I’ll keep checking, sir.” 

“Just ‘David’ is fine,” Mr. H. said. “I’m going to sleep now. Stay close together.”

When John woke up again, he was still stuck in the tunnel. This time, both girls had disappeared.

When he reached out, hoping to touch their shoes or blankets and confirm that he wasn’t alone, John found nothing. When he slid along the floor on his knees, reaching out to touch both walls, he found only water bottles, two full and two empty, and a girl’s ring sitting on the concrete. He put it on his pinky finger.

“Mr. H.?” he called. “David?”

“I’m here. Everything okay?”

John couldn’t think straight. “I – Wendy and Elena were here, right?”

The corridor was silent, except for the tireless scraping limbs outside. “Yes, John, they’re here with us.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved. “I can’t find them.” Maybe he was dreaming.

“I’m coming down your way.”

Mr. H. – David’s hands made soft brushing sounds along the walls. He almost tripped over John.

“This can’t be happening,” he said flatly. “People can’t just disappear.”

“Magicians,” John offered, but David snorted.

“We are going to wait for fire and rescue,” he said. “We’ll stay by the doors. When there’s light, we’ll see what’s going on. Maybe there’s – I don’t know, a crawlspace or a hidden panel … we’ll just sit tight and wait.”

“Okay,” John said quietly. Elena and Wendy’s blankets had vanished with them, but he scooped up their water bottles and added them to his stockpile.

He didn’t sleep again. He was awake when the strangest sound, a very faint grinding, churning sound like someone stirring gravel, came from the other end of the corridor.

“David?”

John didn’t bother calling again. He shuffled along the length of the tunnel and reached the door. When he pushed on it this time, it didn’t move at all. Even the branches had gone silent.

Everyone was gone, except for him.

He felt his face start to crumple. He didn’t want the firemen to find him sobbing, but his next thought was that it didn’t matter, no one would find him at all. Either he was next, and would go wherever everyone else had been stolen away, or he would die here and they’d find his skeleton like the bride locked inside a trunk on her wedding day. He loved those scary books, especially the drawings, but he really didn’t want to imagine them hovering all around him, just out of reach, waiting for him to let his guard down before –

He’d already sunk to his ankles by the time John realized the floor had turned to slush. Or not slush, maybe, because it wasn’t cold, it had no smell, it was a static neutral nothing like tepid bathwater, gritty but still liquid lapping against his waist, and then his arms and chest, and then …

He had time to take a single breath before he sank.

His mind skipped, as though he’d suffered an electric shock.

Then his feet were cold – he’d lost his shoes and socks, somehow – and his legs were cold and wet with whatever that slushy stuff was, and he was falling a short distance to a concrete floor. He landed on both feet and stayed standing.

He was stuck in the tunnel again.

Someone had added a round red emergency light behind a little cage. He opened the door to the parking lot, pushing it easily, and bright sunlight pierced him.

John kept his eyes closed for awhile, letting them adjust. When he looked outside again, squinting, he saw that everything had already been fixed. The deep ruts and scrapes in the asphalt were gone, and so was the glass. The big dead tree was nowhere in sight. The lot was still worn, full of potholes and a few blown papers and other trash, but nothing to show that a tornado had passed through the night before.

Cars were parked in the nearest rows. He didn’t recognize most of them. One looked boxy, with corners like folded paper. A red car with oval headlights was so small he couldn’t have fit inside.

The door leading into the mall swung open behind him.

“John?” a woman called.

He didn’t recognize her voice, but a wave of relief nearly felled him. “I’m here!”

She laughed, the sound bright in the tunnel’s stillness, and said: “It’s Elena.”

She was old, older than his mom. When he got close enough to see her face, backlit as she was by the bluish mall lights, Elena’s copper-brown eyes looked back at him. 

“What the fuck happened? What happened to us?”

“Language,” Elena said gruffly, imitating Mr. H. “Caleb got here first … he showed up twelve years in the future. He got out in 2010.”

John couldn’t speak. When he craned his neck to see into the mall, all the stores were different. The nearest kiosk was selling computers the size of his hand, and Elder Beerman had morphed into a J.C. Penney.

“I know it’s weird, but we can help you. It’s really different … it’s not like it was in 1998, that’s for sure. But you’re the last one. Mr. H. thought you’d land today, he figured you left not too long after he did and the tunnel’s got a camera now … oh, that’s so sweet, you picked up Wendy’s ring!” 

She pulled him along with her, chattering away while he looked around dumbstruck. And after a time, having fallen through decades to reach this odd new world, John left the mall.