The funnel dropped from the sky between one heartbeat and the next, a whirling, churning mass twisting toward them.

“Oh my God,” Abby breathed. “Is that—?”

“Tornado,” Flann shouted. “Get in the house!”

Harper pushed Presley toward the house. “Everybody down in the cellar. I’ll get the windows.”

A roar of rushing air lifted the slates above their heads, the clatter like a thousand bones jerking to life. Carrie shrieked as a gust nearly toppled her over, and Glenn grabbed her around the waist. Together the two of them staggered inside.

“The kids!” Abby plunged into the yard, bending into the wind, her hair flying behind her in a wild tangle.

“I’ll get them,” Flann yelled. “Abby!”

Abby never slowed.

Flann cursed and jumped down. The wind plastered her shirt to her chest, the bottom lifting up like a sail. Leaves and sticks and loose stones cannoned across the yard. She caught Abby, twisted them both away from the force of the gale, and pushed her back toward the porch. “I’ll go! Get inside. Harper!”

Harper wrapped an arm around the porch post, grabbed for Abby’s hand, and pulled her protesting across the porch and inside.

Flann pivoted into the wind. Dirt stung her eyes. Loose branches ripped from trees and arrowed wildly. She blocked her face with her forearm and lowered her shoulders, struggling against a wall of air shoving back at her like a hundred linebackers. The eighty yards to the barn might as well have been eight hundred. She raised her head at the roar of a freight train closing in.

The twister crested the ridge behind the house and trees snapped off, sucked up into the funnel like matchsticks. Adrenaline dried her mouth and shot her pulse into overdrive. She kept pumping her aching thighs and staggered up to the open barn door. “Margie! Blake!”

The roof rattled and clacked, the walls shuddered, and the 200-year-old beams groaned, drowning out all sound. Flann staggered inside and stumbled down the aisle on numb legs. Sharp pain pierced her eardrums and she swallowed, trying unsuccessfully to clear them. Blake and Margie crouched in the last stall, the box of chicks shielded between them.

“You okay?” Flann dropped down beside them, searching for the best cover. Above their heads, foot-square beams supported the roof. If those held, they’d be safe; if they came down, they’d be crushed. She grabbed the kids by the arms. “Get over in the corner. Hurry!”

“Why?” Margie shouted.

Blake hugged the box of chicks to his chest.

“Twister’s coming.” Flann dragged them along.

“Can I see?” Margie cried, trying to pull free.

Flann yanked her back down. “Not this time, short stuff.”

Blake yelled, “It feels like the building’s going to blow away.”

“We’ll be okay. Just keep your head down.” She herded them tightly into the corner next to the supporting post. If the walls came down, the corner might stand. And with any luck they’d be sheltered beneath the upright. It was the best she could do.

“What about my mom?” Blake looked ready to bolt.

“Harper has her. She’s—”

A howl filled the air like the arrival of a marauding demon. Spears of light shot down around them, and the roof lifted away with a wrenching scream. Flann pushed the kids down and covered them as a torrent of wood rained down.

*

A banshee wail filled the basement. Abby pressed her back against the stone foundation where Harper had directed her to crouch. The others huddled around her on either side. The power had gone out as they’d stumbled down the stairs, and a murky haze enveloped her. Her eardrums throbbed, threatening to burst. Terror clawed at her throat. Blake and Margie were out there somewhere, and she was helpless to protect them. Flann had disappeared too. Had she even made it to the barn?

Bile climbed into her throat. She huddled in the basement while Blake and Margie and Flann could be hurt, needing her, and she wasn’t there. Every instinct screamed for her to force her way up those stairs and outside. She railed inwardly at the monster threatening her child. Of all the things she had imagined that might harm him, this was a foe she could not fight. A wave of frustration, of rage and fear, welled in her chest, and she choked on a cry.

Presley gripped her hand and leaned close. “Flann…be…right.”

No reason would console her. No promise would convince her. She trusted no one to do what she must do, and she was impotent. Helplessness burned her throat, nausea curdling her stomach. The screaming wind grew louder and the floor above them creaked and heaved.

She shut her eyes and felt like a coward.

Minutes, hours passed and at last the screaming subsided. The terrible pressure in her ears relented and she could hear again.

“Is it over?” She jumped up and swayed, legs rubbery. “The kids. Flann.”

“Wait.” Harper grasped her arm. “We don’t know what’s up there. The house might be unsound. We have to go slowly.”

Abby jerked her arm free. “I have to get outside.”

“There may be secondary twisters.” Harper blocked her path to the stairs. “It won’t do anyone any good if you get hurt too.”

“My son—Margie—”

“Flann is with them,” Harper said grimly. “Come on, just stay with me.”

At the top of the stairs, Harper shoved on the door leading into the kitchen. It didn’t move. “Blocked.”

Panic tore at Abby’s throat. She couldn’t be trapped. She had to get out. “Let me help.”

Abby crowded onto the top stair beside Harper.

“On three,” Harper said. “One, two…three.”

Abby pushed against the solid wood door as hard as she could. It moved a fraction.

“Again.”

On the third try, wood scraped on wood and the door opened enough for them to squeeze through. The kitchen table had upended and come to rest against the door. The light was out, but the walls and ceiling still stood. Someone had managed to get the windows open, and the only damage seemed to be broken furniture tossed around as if by an angry child.

Harper righted a chair and cleared a path to the porch. The screen door was gone. A tree on the far side of the yard had uprooted and lay in the yard in a mound of broken boards and pieces of slate. A wheelbarrow sat atop the pile. Abby jumped down the stairs and stared at the barn. The back half of the roof was gone, only a skeleton of rafters bare to the sky. Dread twisted through her. “Oh God.”

Abby ran, skirting debris, sliding in mud and rivulets of water. Rain pelted down, sharp needles she barely felt. Broken branches clawed at her legs. The barn door hung down, half-unhinged. She pulled aside a tree limb and tugged at the end of a splintered board blocking her way.

“Here,” Harper said, catching up to her. “Let me help. Don’t try to go inside yet. The whole thing might come down.”

“I’m getting my son.” Abby peered into the dark interior. A jumble of debris filled the aisle. She pulled out another loose board and edged into the doorway.

“We’re going to get them.” Harper held her back. “But if we move something and bring all of it down, we’re not helping them.”

Glenn, Presley, and Carrie appeared out of the storm.

“Did you find them?” Presley asked.

“Not yet,” Harper said. “But we will.”

Glenn said, “I ought to try to get to the hospital. The ER is going to need us.”

“Yes,” Harper said. “Go.”

Carrie said, “I’ll go with you. We can take my car.”

“I’ll be there as soon as we get the kids and Flann.” Harper gripped Presley’s arm. “Can you try the phones? See if you can reach my parents, make sure everyone there is all right?”

“Yes,” Presley said. “Be careful, okay?”

“We will.” Harper kissed her. “You too.”

Abby sucked in a breath. The control she brought to bear in the midst of an emergency rose to the surface, and she pushed the panic back into its dark corner. “Tell me what to do.”

“We need some light—I’m going to get a flashlight from my truck. Call to them and see if we can get a fix on where they are. I’ll be right back.”

Harper hurried off and Abby peered into the dark depths of the barn. “Blake? Flann? Margie—are you there?”

Abby’s heart stopped beating as silence crowded out the air in her lungs. “Blake?”

“Mom? Back here!”

Abby’s heart started up again. “Are you hurt?”

“We’re good,” Flann called.

“Can you get out?”

“We’re blocked in,” Flann called. “What I can see of the roof looks iffy.”

Harper returned and shone a light into the barn. Splintered wood and a jumble of beams filled the center aisle. “Flann? Can you see daylight?”

“No!”

“What about fire rescue?” Abby asked.

“They’re all volunteers. Everybody in the area’s probably dealing with the same thing,” Harper said. “It could be hours.”

“Then we have to get them out ourselves,” Abby said calmly. “You’re in charge.”

Harper studied Abby and nodded. “Follow me.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Flann couldn’t move her left leg. Something heavy pinned her in the pile of rubble. Thank God, she could feel her toes, wiggle them, but she couldn’t pull free, and every time she tried, the debris above her groaned and creaked. She’d rather not have the whole thing come down on their heads. Pain lanced down the back of her thigh and a warm wet sensation followed. Didn’t feel like bone pain—probably just a laceration. The blood loss didn’t seem extreme but she didn’t want to make it any worse. They might be there for a long time.

“Are you two sure you’re not hurt?”

“My shoulder’s banged up a little,” Margie said, her voice steady and quiet. “But it’s not dislocated, and my arm is fine.”