Off County Road I-95, both storm chasing crews absorbed the damage inflicted by the violent storm system. In the populated area, businesses were flattened to their concrete foundations while hundred of cars had been lofted and then slammed into the ground until they were mangled beyond recognition.

"This is horrible," James said. "Families and whole  communities wiped away in a matter of seconds."

He flinched as grapefruit-sized hail pummeled their vehicle. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Halle raise her arm into a defensive position. "It's all right. The windshield's space-age shatter proof glass."

"Look out!" Halle grabbed the steering column and wrenched the wheel sideways.

They both cringed as a school bus, stripped down to its bare chassis, crashed across the road with a screech of metal. "

"Crap!" Amy yelled over the radio. "That was close. What the hell was that?"

Halle grabbed the mic. "These suction vortexes are strong enough to rip large chunks of asphalt from parking lots, but I had no idea they could lift entire buses. This is an F5 tornado." She swiveled to look out the rear window. "Thank God, the bus was empty and missed all of us."

A flash of lightening illuminated the culprit, an eerie, smoke-colored twisting vortex a mile away. The tornado followed a straight line as it left the scene of the crime and continued tearing up a path of destruction.

"How many sub vortexes are there?" Zane's voice came over the radio.

"I don't know. They don't show up on the radar." Halle frowned at the screen.

"Now that the storm is rain wrapped and they're invisible, they're freakin deadly," Amy snarled.

"Tell me something, I don't know." The bronze-haired storm chaser worried her lower lip.

Three miles from their destination on Trinity road, they pulled over next to a lone figure in blue checkered boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. He stood in a broken stance and held a video camera. The haggard middle-aged man's shoulders shook as he gazed at a demolished development. What had once been a safe haven of well-made homes was now a flattened field of debris. Trees and shrubs torn from the ground had their bark peeled leaving a polished bone colored wood. Halle scanned the area for more survivors, but saw no one.

It's as if a bomb exploded each home.

She leapt out of The Interceptor before it stopped and ran over to the lone survivor. "Sir, are you all right? Your head's bleeding."

"I was the only one spared. My neighbors," a sob escaped him..."their homes are gone. They've all been killed." The expensive camera fell to his side and bumped his knee. "I videotaped the monster as it approached our home," he stammered. Eyes wide, he looked straight through Halle at where his home had stood. "It passed right over the house," he paused to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, "then it reversed direction as if it saw it missed one and came straight at us." He made a strangled cry.

Halle fought back tears. "Who was with you?

"My son, George."

"How old was he?"

"Nineteen."

She patted. His arm. "Let's see if we can find him."

The man nodded. He had a dazed child-like vulnerability about him. "My wife passed a few years ago."

James watched the parental emotions play over the grieving man's face. "Where was your son when the tornado hit?"

"Dad!" Several hundred yards away, a young blond man hauled himself out of the an overturned bath tub and hobbled towards them. "Dad, you're alive!"

James felt a lump form in his throat.

Naseem ran up and stood by him and taped the father and son reunion. "My God, it's a miracle you're both alive."

"Yes," James said quietly. "It is."

Amy ran over. "I just got off the radio. "There's an emergency triage area off County Road I95. Naseem and I will take them there."

Halle nodded in Zane and Charlie's direction. "His foot needs x-rays." She glanced at the lanky storm chaser. "And his shoulder."

Zane snorted, "Hey, I'll make my own decisions."

"It's probably fractured, you hard-headed ass." She walked over to him and looked up at him. "Stop trying to impress me."

Zane met her gaze. "You're too obsessed with  tornado chasing to be impressed by anyone. You're twenty. Haven't you ever been on a normal date?"

She smiled and shook her head.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "After this is over, we'll have to remedy that."

She looked over and saw James watching them, an anguished look on his face.

Shit. I didn't mean to hurt him.

"Let me guess," Nasseem sighed, a few feet away. "Unrequited love."

"I wouldn't know," Amy interjected. "We've known each other since grade school. He bullied me constantly.

The exuberant father broke away from his son and touched the blogger's shoulder. "Young man, your companion," he nodded at Amy, "told me you're documenting this storm."

"Yes, for Weather Warrior's. They're two kick-ass storm chasers."

"Harold Fuller." He reached out and shook Naseem's hand. "Here," he handed him the video camera, "upload this for me.

Naseem grinned. "Are you sure? This is valuable F-3 footage. You could sell it for a lot of money to the National news."

Harold shook his head. "I want people to see what it looks like it when death comes for them." He smiled as he wrapped his arms around his son. "And God spares them."

(*Picture is from NPR)