Everything seemed gloomy, for the weather that day had taken a nasty turn. —The Hobbit

The diner off of I40 was a retro-era dump, but it served bottomless joe, decent burgers and big ole heaps of crisp fries. It was late morning and the usually deserted eatery was filling up with excited tornado chasers fueling up on food and gas on their way to Greensboro.

Halfway up the aisle, Halle, Amy, and Naseem sat in a red pleather booth and gave their orders to an elderly women in skinny jeans. She wore a folded white apron wrapped around her narrow hips and worn red converse with Wonder Woman laces. 

"I'll have the home style breakfast with orange juice." Naseem smiled at her.

O.J. and an Egg McMuffin with homefries for me, please," Amy leaned back in the booth.

Halle looked up from the menu. "Just eggs and toast with a glass of O.J., please."

Through the large plate glass window, a convoy of Semi Trailer trucks zoomed down the interstate, their large tread tires emitted their signature high-pitched lonesome whine. Halle closed her eyes. At night, the music box of the pavement was a sound she had found soothing, instead of listening to her mother and numerous boyfriends fight.

The convoy was trailed by a baby blue Cadillac Eldorado with a decorative boomerang spoiler straight out of the cocaine-fueled 80's. "That's the mayor of Charlotteville." Amy gestured with her glass of orange juice. "I recognize his Elvis-Ain't-Dead bumper sticker. He's an arrogant son of a bitch, but he spends a ton of money on that baby."

Over her greasy menu, Halle observed a flux of incoming storm-chasing vehicles with their geeky rooftop weather antennae converging on the dining hot spot. "This many chasers on the road creates a dangerous situation. We've got to stay ahead of this traffic."

Sunglasses propped up in her hair, Amy held up her palm and smacked the bottom of the plastic ketchup container. "Don't worry. I'll put the pedal to the metal once we're outta here." The red ketchup bottle made a gurgling noise as she squeezed more than a generous helping of condiment onto her home fries. She froze mid-squeeze and her eyes widened. Nassem winced when she slammed the half-full ketchup bottle down next to his elbow onto the Formica table top.

"Got you, you six-legged bastard!" Cautiously, she lifted the ketchup bottle and peered under it. "This place has a major bug problem."

Naseem leaned forward to examine the squished insect. With a knife, he dislodged one of the sticky black lump's splayed legs. "This is a candy gummy spider. I think retailers made them for Halloween."

"Still gross. What's it doing here? It's mid-June. And whose mouth was it in before it ended up on the table?" Amy glanced over his head and down the aisle. She emitted an indeterminate moan. "Speaking of vermin."

Halle lifted her gaze as an invisible breeze swirled up the aisle, followed by a shiver up her spine. Zane Howard entered the diner and sauntered towards them and something heavy moved in her chest. Thick, dirty blond hair scooped under a battered cowboy hat, his rugged good looks could only be described as animal magnetism heaped on top of blatant manliness. Behind him, James Winter caught her eye as he finished an intense conversation on his phone.

In their black tight Weather Warrior t-shirts, the charismatic duo drew the other diner's interest. The middle-aged couple across the aisle from them finished their meals and got up. Zane and James slid long, jean-clad legs under the empty table. "Hello ladies, Nasseem."

"Thanks for following us guys. Literally," Nasseem smirked. "Aren't you two internet stalkers supposed to be representing Weather Warrior team at the Keene Tornado conference?"

James grey eyes grew guarded. "Not anymore."

"So you decided to join the chase?" Nasseem's eyes glowed with amusement.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Zane looked at Halle and flexed powerful biceps under his rolled up sleeves.

After the two men placed their orders, James turned to Halle. "You were right, Brennan. I apologize. I should have listened to you. The PDS that came out confirms there's something dangerous boiling up in the atmosphere."

Amy guffawed. "No shit."

"Hot and hostile as a rattler all coiled up and hissing." Zane tilted up his hat. "Just how I like it. My truck's purring like a cream-fed kitten since you lubed it. How 'bout doin some of that magic on me?"

"That's the most backhanded compliment I've ever received." Amy's upper lip curled into an Elvis snarl. "Don't mess with me. I'll go zero to bitch on you in three seconds."

Zane tipped his hat to her in surrender. Ignoring the fracas, James held Halle's gaze. "We need your help deploying a test probe. My father wants you to do it, Halle."

Beside her, Amy vigorously shook her head and furrowed her brow. "Everything out of your father's mouth is an exaggeration, a half truth, or an outright lie. What's the real story?"

In the booth adjacent to Weather Warriors, a senior wearing a red beanie hat and Area 51 t-shirt turned and leaned over the booth to address James. "You're Lars Winter's son?"

Winters nodded, irritated at the interruption, but was well bred enough to feign politeness. "Yes, I'm his son, James Winter." He knitted his eyebrows. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Charlie Munson. I've been tornado chasing since you were in diapers." The older man surveyed him with a hawk-like acuity. "What's that sly snake-oil-salesman of a father of yours up to now?" He nodded, sagely. "Always had an angle that one." His steel blue eyes hardened. "Got a few people killed, too."

"I don't know what you're talking about." James raised his chin and met the man's gaze.

Halle held up her hand for silence. "I'll do it on the condition that Naseem and Amy document it. They're developing a site that will assist in the distribution of life-saving weather information."

"We're supplying the vehicle. You would'nt be able to get anywhere in front of a tornado without The Interceptor," James argued.

"Well, I'm takin the risk," Halle countered. "Those are my conditions."

When she rose and grabbed her coat, the gentleman in the red beanie leaned forward and caught her arm. "Be careful little lady. Those Winters are talentless. Watch your back."

Halle smiled at the concerned gentleman. "I've heard of you, Mr. Munson. Weren't you the one to first photograph an F5 in Nebraska."

"Charlie spread his hands in supplication. "Guilty as charged." He gestured at Naseem. "Unlike your friend here, the only recording device I had was a beat up old Nikon camera. I've seen your footage young man. Impressive. You all be careful out there. Listen to your sixth sense. It's saved my tail a few times."

Following Halle, Amy snapped her fingers at James and Zane. "If all else's fails with your father, you two should feign incompetence which shouldn't be a problem."

"Bitch," Zane mumbled.

In the parking lot, Halle ran her hand over the silver hubcap-shaped probe that was nestled in the back of the black tornado chasing vehicle. "Irwin Allen Armstrong outdid himself. That's an amazing streamlined design."

James walked over and stood beside her. "One of his newest prototypes. It's super light but grips the ground like a sixty pound leech."

"Halle, you can ride with us." Zane smiled at her as if she had won the lottery and opened the Terminator's door.

She ducked her head. "I'll follow with my team and join both of you once we get there. If you want to deploy the probe before that then stay in touch over the radio."