Don't Get It Twisted, page 18
And for Ash’s. His sibling would never forgive him if he got involved with their ex.
“I’m going to try to get closer,” he said. “This is a massive tornado, huge debris, you can see it from here!”
The tornado dipped in and out of view as he raced down the rural highway with yellow and white lights flashing, looking for a perpendicular road that would take him closer to the storm. His GPS showed a possible option a few miles ahead, but when he got there, the road was completely flooded. He was pretty confident his truck had enough clearance to make it, but it would set a bad example on stream.
His phone rang, showing some unknown Massachusetts number. Noah sent the call straight to voicemail. Whoever it was could wait. Seconds later, the number called back. He muted it again.
Spam calling was getting out of control.
Focus, Cline, he mentally spurred himself on.
“Coming up on fifteen minutes on the ground,” he narrated. “This has staying power. What a beautiful storm. Don’t think we’re getting any closer with all these low roads flooded out, so we’ll just stay here until it fizzles. Think I might hop out and take some pictures of this one.”
The tornado was an enraged bull trapped in the chute, rattling erratically down the sparsely populated valley somewhere near the state line. Noah jumped down from the cab of his truck and grabbed his tripod, camera already attached. He set up near the edge of the bluff, zooming in on the aggressive storm. Even with the distance, it was one of the most photogenic tornadoes he had captured all season.
Noah snapped a dozen photos then stood with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the solitude as he watched the tornado fade away into scud and finally lift from the ground. It was good to get away from the chaos of the stream for a few minutes and just enjoy nature. He hoped his chat was enjoying it as much as he was.
The first thing he noticed when he climbed back into his truck was how much his viewer count had risen. Maybe it would be a profitable day after all. The second thing he noticed was his chat window alight with messages.
Haley got hit
Haley was in it
Does anyone know if she’s okay?
I’m here from her stream, any news?
@NoahWX please check on Haley
Is Haley dead?
Noah’s stomach clenched, but he forced himself to laugh it off. “I’m sure Haley is fine, everyone, she’s a professional.” Still, he loaded her profile to check in on her stream and was surprised to see that it had ended a few minutes earlier. “She probably just doesn’t have enough service to stream.”
She cut the stream right before it hit her
We saw the tornado, she didn’t lose service
She might need help
I don’t think anyone could have survived that
Just watch her stream
Haley def got hit
“If this is a prank, it isn’t funny,” Noah said, reaching for his phone. He muted his stream as he called her number, but it rang and went to voicemail.
Not a prank
Haley needs help
We wouldn’t joke about this
Hundreds of messages rolled by, insisting they weren’t all complicit in some cruel joke enacted by Haley as an act of revenge, but Noah still didn’t want to believe what they were saying was true. He opened Haley’s stream, cursing time wasted as he had to sit through ads. He scrolled to the end of the stream, his heart sinking as the video confirmed that chat was telling the truth. Haley was somewhere in the valley, in trouble.
He tried to call her again, willing her to pick up as he threw his truck in gear and raced back towards the flooded highway. Nothing.
He called again.
Nothing.
“I wouldn’t drive through this if it wasn’t an emergency,” he mumbled obligatorily to his chat before accelerating through the water. “This isn’t safe at all.”
Lord, let her be alive, his mind raced with silent prayers clouded by doubt. He had to be getting close, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for what he might find.
The road dipped into flood water again, splashing up the sides of his truck as he raced through, scanning the fields for signs of the tornado’s path. He noticed a row of trees, probably planted as a windbreak, that had been ripped into toothpicks. His eyes tracked east, following the line of destruction before setting on a hunk of mangled white metal a few hundred yards away.
Noah slammed on the brakes and quickly angled his camera away from the wreckage before muting the stream. Muscle memory took over as he jumped out of his truck and retrieved a first aid kit from the bed.
“Haley!” He yelled as he ran towards the deformed station wagon she had been so proud of. He couldn’t see any movement around it. “Haley!”
Mud sucked at his boots as he stumbled across sodden ground, desperate to reach her but terrified he was too late. She had to be okay, because if she wasn’t it would be partly his fault, and he couldn’t live with that.
As he got closer, he finally saw her motionless in the passenger seat, eyes closed and blood smeared across her face.
“Haley, wake up,” he yelled as he approached the vehicle, feeling like the wind had been punched out of his lungs.
Her eyelids fluttered, then opened and focused on Noah. “I was going to come back to Tulsa for the paperwork eventually,” she mumbled. “But man, am I glad you’re here.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Claire paced frantically around her tiny studio as Tobey looked on, his green eyes seeming to ask what worry merited the deviation from their typical Sunday afternoon snuggle session. She hadn’t intended to watch Haley to begin with, but the notification that she was live was too alluring and Claire was too masochistic to ignore it. Per usual, she had been sucked into the comforting cadence of Haley’s voice as she drove across the Plains. And then the unthinkable had happened.
Noah hadn’t given his stream any updates in over an hour, just abruptly faced the camera towards the dome light in his car and muted the stream. It was disgusting, leaving the stream on to rack up advertising revenue from the thousands of people collectively holding their breath as they anxiously waited for some news about Haley. He was disgusting, exploiting his girlfriend’s life or death situation to earn what Claire assumed was a relatively insignificant amount of money to him. And most of all, Claire was disgusted with herself for contributing to the frenzy.
The situation was trending on social media, with more than one viral post claiming Haley had died, and even though Claire knew that there was no way anyone except Noah had access to that information, she was still stuck trying to hold it together until he returned with confirmation. The chat was full of morbid rubberneckers that made Claire want to scream at them to have a little fucking respect for a serious situation with real lives involved, but her voice would be lost in the sea of chatters. So she paced, and waited.
She knew it would be healthier to walk away, go outside for a while. She knew that worrying wouldn’t make it any better. But she couldn’t tear her eyes from Noah’s empty, silent stream, watching with knots in her stomach as the red and blue flood of emergency light vehicles reflected into the frame. She would turn it off as soon as she knew Haley was alright.
She had to be alright.
Another wave of dread drowned out the tiny flicker of hope the arrival of emergency lights had rekindled. They were staying too long. And Claire had seen the kind of destruction a tornado was capable of firsthand. As minutes ticked by at the bottom of the screen, the worst outcome began to seem the most likely. Claire had to stop herself from replaying the final moments of Haley’s screen to scour it for indications that she could have made it out. It wouldn’t do any good. The presence of emergency vehicles was enough to make that clear.
Another agonizing hour later, the camera finally jostled and Noah’s face filled the screen. Streaks of mud and sweat lined his haggard face, and though his lips were moving, no sound came out.
Unmute!
You’re still muted
Is Haley ok?
Unmute unmute unmute
I saw on Reddit she died
“Sorry, y’all,” Noah’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Haley is fine, just a little banged up. She’s hitching a ride to the hospital with the paramedics just in case, and I’m going to end the stream and head up there.” He sighed, and the faint quiver in his voice made Claire wonder if he was being entirely truthful about how bad it was. “We appreciate the support,” he said, and then the stream went black.
Claire poured herself a glass of water with trembling hands. She’d been so absorbed in the streams that it had been hours since she’d had anything to drink, and the cool liquid soothed her parched throat and washed away some of the tension she hadn’t been able to pace away. Haley was okay; that was what mattered most. And as much as she hated Noah,Claire knew he would make sure Haley was taken care of.
She had to stop putting herself through the torture of watching them, though. Hard as it was to admit, it was time. Sinking slowly back onto the couch, she turned back to her computer, still open on Noah’s dead stream.
Block User. Hitting the button was satisfying. She would never have to see his smug, dumb face again.
Haley was harder. Her eyes sparkled playfully in her profile picture, like whoever was behind the camera was trying to make her laugh and she was resisting. Claire assumed it was Noah, if only because it made blocking Haley that much easier. Haley’s grin disappeared from the screen.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Can you tell us your name, ma’am?”
Haley squinted at the EMT hovering over her, silhouetted by the bright lights of the ambulance. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears, almost drowning out the wail of the sirens as they raced towards the hospital in… where was she again? Somewhere in South Dakota.
“Ma’am?” The EMT asked again. Her voice reminded Haley of Claire’s.
“Haley Hunter.” She blinked, trying to clear the static from her vision as she realized she probably should have given them her legal name. Oh well, they could sort that out later.
“Good. We’re going to start checking your vitals, okay, Haley? You tell us if anything hurts.” The paramedic sounded far away, but reassuring.
“Okay,” Haley agreed, even though everything hurt and she was so tired.
She felt gloved hands at her wrist, checking the pulse that throbbed and ached and muffled everything around. Searing pain shot through her arm as they lifted it to take a blood pressure reading, and she clenched her teeth together to keep from screaming. The paramedic was talking again, but Haley couldn’t make out the words through the crescendoing hum in her ears. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. She closed her eyes, trying to block it all out.
“I need you to try to stay awake for now, Haley,” the paramedic’s voice cut through the buzz. “Open your eyes for me. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I got hit by a tornado,” Haley whispered. Talking hurt. “The car rolled.” And somehow Noah had found her and saved her. Just like he always did.
“Little prick while we get this I.V. line set, and then you’ll feel a lot better,” the paramedic said. “You live in the valley?”
“No.”
“Where are you from?”
“I don’t know.” The real answer was too complicated. A cold, burning sensation was creeping up her arm and a bitter taste filled her mouth. A few moments later, Haley’s pain subsided enough that she could hear herself think again. “I need to talk to Noah,” she said.
“Your husband? He’s meeting us at the hospital.”
Haley didn’t bother to correct her. Whatever they had given her for pain was numbing her mind along with it, and—since by then she was fairly certain she was going to survive—she needed to pivot and focus on damage control. Whatever hit her reputation had taken in the wake of the article would be nothing compared to the chaos her recklessness would wreak.
The next few hours were a blur as they arrived at the hospital in Rapid City and she was wheeled into various rooms to be poked, prodded, and x-rayed. Noah appeared at some point, the deep frown carved into his face belying the good news he brought. He’d found her phone a few dozen yards away from her crumpled car, and managed to recover most of her gear and memory cards.
“What should I post?” She asked him in a lull between tests, clutching her phone with her good hand.
“Nothing,” he said. “I already told everyone you’re fine so you don’t need to worry about that right now.”
“I really fucked up,” she said.
“Yep,” Noah agreed. “But you’re alive.”
“Noah, I’m sorry. For everything.” She didn’t want to revisit her prior stupidity, but it felt important to clear the air.
“I know,” he said. “And I am, too.”
“You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to,” she insisted, feeling guilty he’d been roped into being there at all.
“I do,” he said simply, leaving Haley to wonder if he meant he had to or wanted to.
Noah reached across her bed for the remote to the small TV in the corner of the sparse hospital room and changed the channel to a baseball game, Boston versus Kansas City. Normally she would have protested, but she was too tired and her brain felt too mushy to complain. Instead, she scanned the crowd two thousand miles away, wondering if Claire was somewhere among them. Probably. It was her job, after all, unless the article had gotten her that promotion she’d been chasing.
Haley dozed on and off, waking whenever the roar of the tornado entered her dreams before remembering it was over and drifting off again. Finally the doctor returned to give his diagnosis: two bruised ribs and a badly broken collarbone that would eventually require surgery to fully repair, but otherwise she was lucky. It could have been so much worse.
***
“Ready?” Noah asked, opening the passenger door of his truck for her.
“As I’ll ever be.” Haley grimaced. She was glad to be getting discharged from the hospital, but she was dreading the thirteen hour drive back to Tulsa. As long as she kept completely still, the pain was tolerable, but she knew the roads back to Oklahoma were pitted with potholes and Noah’s lifted truck wasn’t exactly the softest ride. Even climbing into the passenger seat hurt, but it was time to go home.
Home. The word ached as much as her ribs did, making her breath catch in her lungs as she exhaled her sorrow slowly. She didn’t have a home, not really. It was almost time to pack up the apartment that had served as her home base, but never her home. The short term lease was coming to an end, and she would need to move on somewhere.
But where? Haley had seen the photos; she no longer had a car. Hurricane season was coming and she had no way to chase, not that the doctors would ever clear her to be back on the road so soon. Her surgery was scheduled in two days in Tulsa, provided the swelling around her injury had gone down enough to pin the bones back into place, and the doctors in Rapid City had already warned her that recovery would likely be a matter of months, not days or weeks.
She was fucked.
“Were you able to get anything off those memory cards?” She asked Noah. If she’d somehow gotten clear, salvageable footage from inside the tornado, it would be sure to go viral and she could at least start recouping some of her losses.
“All of it, I think. Some of the audio got messed up.”
“Good,” Haley said, staring out the window at the wide expanses of South Dakota. The truck hit a bump and she winced as she was jostled out of her seat. Only twelve hours to go.
“Sorry,” Noah said. “I’ll be more careful.”
They alternated between casual small talk and easy silence as Noah’s truck chewed through the miles, but boredom began to gnaw at Haley as the long hours elapsed. She hated feeling helpless, and the restlessness of four days in the hospital was eating her alive. She was anxious to get back to work, to start moving forward again instead of stagnating. And she was furious at herself, because it was all her own doing. She had replayed the accident dozens of times in her memory, pinpointing dozens of places she had gone wrong and untangling the chain of mistakes so she would never have to relive them again.
Finally, her thoughts settled on Claire. If nothing else, the accident had given her perspective, and though Haley couldn’t deny the pain from Claire’s betrayal still simmered below the surface, the hot anger had cooled enough for her to think rationally about it all. If Claire was still willing to talk, Haley could hear her out. She believed in second chances, and she had just been given a major one. It would be stupid to waste it, and Haley was done being stupid. People like her didn’t just fall in love every day, and she was ready to fight for it.
Chapter Thirty
Thursdays were Claire’s favorite weekday, and not just because it was the day before Friday. The Vietnamese restaurant down the street from her office ran a lunch special and their báhn mì was perfect, even if she had used two thirds of her break standing in line to get it. And she had a real date scheduled with Evie, the girl from the barbecue, to look forward to the next evening.
Claire felt like she was finally getting back to her old self. She’d made herself busy every evening after she left the office so she wouldn’t have to go home and think about Haley, and the strategy was working. Even Carl’s gloating about his follow-up article calling Haley’s accident a “predictable outcome” wasn’t getting under her skin.
In fact, Haley Hunter was the furthest thing from Claire’s mind as she watched pigeons fight over the baguette crumbs she dropped finishing the last bites of her sandwich. She leaned back against the park bench as she sipped her iced coffee—relishing her last few minutes of freedom before she would have to trudge back to work and wring out yet another story about the Red Sox—when her phone vibrated.
