高中英语教学：storm chaserVIP

StormChaser

ByMaryKayMorel

FMlSITTINGINthebackofaChevyvansomewhereinNebraska,staringatthe

meanest-lookingweatherFveeverseen."Seethat,Emily?”Dadpointsashe

speedstowardthegreenishunderbellyofamonstercloud."That'sthelaboratory

foratornado.”"Really?”Igulpdownathroatfulloffear.Actually,Ishouldbeused

totheTword.DadandIhavebeenlookingfortornadoesallweek.Heopenshis

windownow,hangshisheadout,andsearchesthesky.Thenhepointsacrossa

wheatfield.Ifollowhisfingerandseearaggedchunk,darkasmidnight,extend

fromthemonstercloud.nWhatisit?"Iask,tryingnottosoundworried.nAtornado

forming/1Popmurmurs,soundingawe-struck."You'rekidding,right?”Ilean

towardthewindow,holdingmybreath.Thisisthefirstonewe'vespottedonour

trip.Iknowthattornadoes—ortwisters-arecolumnsoffast-movingair,shaped

likefunnels,thatrotateviolently.Ialsoknowthey'redangerous.RightnowFm

thinkingofallthosescarypicturesrveseenonTheWeatherChannel,picturesof

thedamagetornadoescandooncetheyhittheground:pickupsturned

upsidedown,trailerhouseslyingontheirsideslikesickdogs,barnsreducedto

pilesofrubble.Unfortunately,Dadlovestornadoes.He'sameteorologist—he

studiesweatherforaliving.Asunny,cloudlessdayisdullstuffforhim.Instead,he

dreamsofthunder,lightning,andtwistersdippingdownfromthesky.That'swhy

DadworksfortheNationalWeatherService,trackingthunderstorms.Thistripis

partofhisjob.EachJunehecrisscrossestheMidwest,searchingforthekindof

stormsthatproducetornadoes.Dadsaystornadoescanhappenjustabout

anywhereintheworld,buttheworstonesusuallytouchdownhereintheUnited

States,rightbetweentheMississippiRiverandtheRockyMountains.Stormchasers

callthisareaTornadoAlley.nGrabthemap!”heyellsnow.Ireachforabatteredmap

andfanitopen.UsuallythisisChris'sjob.ChrisisDad'sweather-trackingpartner.

Thisweek,however;he'sattendingahurricaneconferenceinFlorida.Asaresult,Y

vetalkedDadintolettingmeridealonginhisplace.AtfirstPopfeltreluctantto

exposemetothedangersofchasingtornadoes,butIkeptremindinghimthat

scienceandphotographyaremyfavoritesubjects.IalsopointedoutthatYmmore

maturethanmostfourteen-year-olds.AndItoldhimthataneducationalsummer

adventurewasbetterthannoadventureatall.Finally,hegavein,andhereIam!The

mapflutterscrazilynowaswindgushesthroughDad'swindow.Still,Imanageto

locatetheroadwezreon."Anythinggoingwest?”Popshouts.Istareatthe

crisscrossofconfusinglines.Theblueonesstandforcountyboundaries;thegray

linesrepresentcountyroads."Foundone!”Ishoutback.Withinminutes,Dad's

turningontomygrayline.Ihearthetiresspinonloosegravel.ThenIlookupfrom

themap.Mymouthfallsopen.We'reheadinginthedirectionofthetwister!”The

mostimportantpartofchasingafunnelcloud/1Dadyells,"\smakingsurethatyou

don'tgetcaughtinit."Nokidding,Iwanttosay.Instead,Inodgrimlyandswallow

hard.Thenthevanbeginstobuckagainstthewind.Asudden,secondstormrises

upfromthegroundrightbeforeoureyes.'Tornado!”Ishout,blowingmycool

andfallingintofullpanicmode.InstantlyIrealizemymistake.Whatrmseeingisn'

tatwisterbutawholefield,dustdry,risingskyward,carriedbythewildwind.Dad

canztclosethewindowfastenough.Dirtblaststhrough,scouringtheseats.Ifeel

halfofNebraska'stopsoilcollectinmyeyes,ears,nose,andmouth.Thedustfinally

settles,leavingtheairthecolorofdirtylaundry.ThenIseethehalf-formedtornado

again.It'sclosertothegroundnowandnolongerlookslikeaskinnyrope.Instead,

ithasthickenedintoasquat,blackfunnel.Whenithitstheearth,thetwisterbobs

andweaves.Suddenlyitgoesperfectlystill.ItsseveralsecondsbeforeIrealizethe

reason:thetornadoisheadingstraighttowardus!Dadseesthefearinmyeyesand

grinsreassuringly.〃It'sOK,Em.ChrisandIdothisallthetime.We'IIjustputthe

probesinplace,snapsomepictures,andbeonourway."YeahzDad.Sure...Thevan

skidstoahalt.Popjumpsout.Ifollowwiththecameraandstartclickingaway,just

asChriswould.Butmyhandsshake,andIwonderhowwellthesepictureswillturn

out.Dad,meanwhile,plopsdowntheprobes.TheylooklikeorangeFrisbeeswith

pointyheads.Insidethe“Frisbees,“datasensorsdigitallyrecordthetornado7s

temperature,barometricpressure,windspeed,anddirection.Afterthetornadohas

passed,Dadwilldrivebackhere,huntthemdown,thendownloadtheirinformation

ontohislaptop.Theprobes,ofcourse,aretoughenoughtowithstandreallynasty

weather.Eveniftheygettossedabout,thedatastaysintact.Thetrickypartis

placingthemdirectlyinthetornado'spath.That'snotalwayseasybecause

twistersdon'tnecessarilymoveinstraightlines.Theywobbleandweave.Theycan

evenveeroffinanewdirectionwithinamatterofseconds,missingtheprobes

entirely.Withthe“Frisbees“inplacenowandmyshakypicturessnapped,we

scramblebackinsidethevan."Let'sgetoutofhere!nDadyells.Hegrabsthe

steeringwheelandbackstowardtheditch,hopingtoturnaroundandhightailitin

theoppositedirection.!hearweedsscratchatthewheels.ThenIfeelthevan's

undercarriagescrapeagainstamoundofearth.Dadswitchesthegearfromreverse

toforward.Butwejustsit,tiresspinninghopelessly.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,I

seefearinmyfather'sface."Ican'tbelievethisishappening/'hewhispers."We'

restuckrightinthetornado'spath!”Dadjumpsoutandtriestoshoulderthevan

backontotheroad.Ijoinhim,pushingwithallmymight.Itdoesn'tbudge.Istart

tickingofftornadosafetyrulesinmymind.RuleNumberOne:Neverstayinsidea

vehicleforprotection.Acarortruckcanbeadeathtrapwhenatornadohits.Pop

obviouslyknowsthatrule,too.〃We'vegottogetoutofhere!”heyells,running

backtothedriver'sseatandshuttingofftheengine.Thefactthathesoundsscared

doesn1tcomfortme.RuleNumberTwo:Ifyou'recaughtoutsidewithnostructures

nearby,findthenearestlowspot-aditchoraravine.Theproblemis,we're

surroundedbyflatfields.Theditchesoneithersideoftheroadsitdirectlyinthe

tornado'spath.ThenInoticeabarn.Itssquattingoutinthewheatfield.Rule

NumberThree:Seekshelterinsideasturdybuilding,ifpossible.Fmnotsureabout

thesturdypart.Thatbarnlookslikeitsbeenstandingtheresincethedaysofthe

dinosaurs.Onthebrightside,itappearstobeoutofthetornado'slineoffire.I

pointtowardithopefullynow.Dadnods."Comeon!”HegrabsmyhandlikeF

mfouryearsold,andwemakearunforit.Ontheothersideoftheditch,we

confrontawirefence.Dadstretchestwostrandsasfarapartasthey'IIgo.AsYm

crawlingthrough,IcatchmybaggyT-shirtonabarb.Panicking,Igrabthecloth

andgiveitajerk.Nothinghappens.Ifeelsick.Myheart'sbeatingsoloudly,Iswear

youcouldhearitinthenextcounty.ThenIyankthefabricasecondtime,andit

jerksfree.Dadclimbsthroughnext.Westartrunningagain.Backhomeonmy

schooltrackfield,Icanfly,myfeetbarelyskimmingthegroundmostdays.Here,

wherespeedreallycounts,Imoveclumsily,trippingondirtclodsthesizeofturtles.

TheappleIateforlunchbopsaroundinsideme,andthecamerabouncesagainst

myribcage.IfeellikeImightthrowup-onlythere'snotimeforthatSoIfocuson

thebarn,commandingmylegstogofaster.Ifonlyitwasn'tsofar

away...Suddenly,wezrethere.Dadpushesasplintereddooropen.Wefind

nothinginsidetocrawlunder,sowedropontothefloor.Ithrowmyarmsovermy

headjustlikeDad1salwaystoldmetodo.Thenwewait.Firstthewindattacks,

carryingloosesoil.Ihearitseepbetweentheboards,oozingarounduszclogging

theair.Thensomethingwhopsthesideofthebuilding—somethingbigenoughto

maketheboardsclatterlikebrokenteeth.Afencepost?Acow?No,wehaven't

seenacowformiles.Iclosemyeyesandtellmyselftocounttoten.Sometimesthat

1

workswhenIgetscaredatthedentistsoffice.One,twozthree...Thebarncreaks

likeitsbeingstretchedapart.Whatifwe'renotbeyondthetornado7sreach?

Whatifitchangesdirection?Twistersareunpredictable.Theycanveeroffcourse

instantly.Whatifthisoneiscomingrightatusnow?Four,five,six...Thenthewind

changes,shiftingintosomethingbeyondaroar.Itnowhasthevoiceofamonster.A

monsterthatscreechesandwailslikeanuntamedanimal.Amonsterthatsounds

strongenoughtosuckthelifeoutofus.Themonsterbarrelsovertheprairie,

clawingtheroofaboveourheads.Ihearthedryshriekofaboardbeingripped

loose.Onefinalgroananditzsgone,whizzingskyward,offintotheLandofOz.Two

moreboardsfollowfromthebarn1sroof.Themonsterburststhroughthisnewly

madehole,roaringintoourshelter.Itwhirlsabout,tossingdirtandrubbish

everywhere.SilentlyIwaitfortherestoftheboardstobepluckedlooseandtossed

intothesky.Seven,eight,nine...Mybrainslidesawayfromthenumbersand

latchesontothenoiseagain.Thismustbewhatdeathsoundslike.Deathbywind.I

thinkofthestoriesmydadhastoldaboutwhattornadoescando:scrapethebark

offtrees,crumplecarslikeKleenex,tossbathtubsintotheair.Ten,eleven...Chris

wouldprobablybetakingpicturesatatimelikethis.Notme.Fmnotthatbrave.So

muchforbeingagreatstormchaser...Then,inspiteofmyfear,Ilookup.Dadis

watchingthestorm.Whenheseesmeraisemyhead,hereachesoverandhugsme.

Sowewait,eyeswideopen.Thetruth\s,Iwanttoseethemonsterthathascometo

killus.Infact,Iwanttofightit,evenifIreallydon'thavethepower.Ilookupatmy

dad'sfaceagain.Hewinksatme,and—justlikethat-Ifeelbetter.Thenwegrab

eachothertighterandholdonwhilewewaitfortheworst.SUDDENLYFTSOVER.

Thewindeasestoaslowwaltz,thenshrinksaway.Whenwelookoutthebarndoorz

weseethetor