(Prompt photo by Andreas Fidler on Unsplash.com)

"You have reached Debby Campbell, please leave a message!"

Imani sighed. "Hi, Mom. I'm stuck on the highway and it's raining cats and dogs. I'll be late for dinner, so don't wait."

Imani left the veteranarian clinic and took Interstate 26 to Downtown Charleston. She was halfway there, but the moody, humid weather was worsening the monster congestion. The forecast had predicted a thunderstorm that evening. Water now drummed on her windshield as the wipers swept the glass relentlessly.

Imani inhaled deeper, attempting to ward off the tightness in her shoulders. There were two days left until the Spoleto Festival and thousands of people had flocked into town for it--tourists, locals, people from other districts--and she had to feed those mouths.

For years, she had been catering the event with various foods. It was a stressful time because of the pressure, but connecting with people over gumbo, jazz music and flamboyant geechee dancers made it worthwile. Streets bloomed into a neverending source of entertainment that artists delivered through their performances. Imani looked forward to it.

A lightning streak jarred her out of her thoughts as it flashed in the distance, followed by a faint rumble. She called another number using bluetooth. Latasha regularly hung out at Marion Square with friends after school. Knowing her rebellious attitude--after all, she'd been through that phase--she wouldn't leave the park of her own accord despite the crazy conditions.

"Mani?" the juvenile voice responded.

The car line moved slightly and Imani's grip tightened on the wheel. "Are you still outside?"

"It's just a little rain, sis," Latasha yelled over the downpour. She avoided home at all costs after fighting with their parents again. "No need to panic."

"Latasha, this is not the time to argue with me. Go home before you get sick or struck by lightning, you hear me?"

Imani thought of the frequent headlines about people getting electrocuted like that. It was a common occurrence in the south--all the more reason to be careful.

"Geez, you sound like Mom," the girl said, and Imani pictured her nose scrunching.

"I don't care. Say bye to your friends and get out of there." She eyed the horizon; heavy, smoky clouds loomed over the interstate all the way to Downtown. Her destination depicted itself through tall, obscure buildings under a dimming sky. The vehicles inched closer to the city, bit by bit.

"You know what, I'm so sick of being treated like a baby! So what if I don't want to come home?" Her voice pitched higher. "Besides, the next bus is, like, in forty minutes. The one that just passed was overcrowded."

"If you don't leave right now, I swear you'll have a real reason to complain," Imani replied, tensing as thunder echoed nearby. "Do whatever you need. Walk or ask a friend to drive you home."

Her sister started reading her the riot act after saying none of her friends owned a car when, suddenly, the call was interrupted. Imani stared at the navigation screen of her car in shock. The signal was down. Outside, lighted windows in buildings blacked out. Streets lights flickered and fizzled out, bringing the road into darkness. Imani cursed under her breath and her knuckles whitened around the wheel as her eyes darted over the highway.

Great, a power outage. Without any means of communication, she wouldn't be sure if Latasha left the park.

Pedestrians ran on the sidewalks, holding suitcases or bags over their heads to block the deluge. Their clothes were drenched. She noticed how the wind violently pushed against them, ripped their hats off and carried them away, blowing through their soaked hair. They scrambled for shelter, entering electricity-deprived buildings.

Sweat gathered underneath Imani's palms as restlessness pricked her. This was getting much worse than the forecast had said, but despite the fear hatching in her mind, a drop of worry that started to flourish insidiously, she willed herself to stay calm.

Her foot tapped the floor of the car as a knot cramped in her stomach. Would Latasha get home and be safe? Did she not see how this was degenerating? Imani sat there, examining the situation from every angle to temper her jitters. She couldn't call her parents and warn them about Latasha's behavior, and she couldn't do anything about it herself, to her dismay. After moving forward in the lane, she plowed a hand through her hair and exhaled. Imani couldn't suppress the dread expanding in her gut.

Thunder rumbled louder this time, and Imani's eyes widened at the sight of trees curving under the gale. It battered against her windows as the vehicle creaked ominously.

Holy crap... she thought, holding her breath.

Various objects tumbled and flew around, sticking momentarily to poles. The latter clung to the asphalt for dear life. A basketball smashed her neighbour's rear windshield and deflated. In front of Imani, a lightning bolt raced through the air, smacking the ground and leaving a nasty, charred print. She jumped in her seat with a yelp, forgetting about remaining calm.

No one had imagined the storm would turn out like this. The gloomy sky made it seem like it was nine in the evening rather than four in the afternoon. She was currently in proximity of Downtown, and if all the turbulence raged here, it also raged in Marion Square and close to home. She now feared for her safety on top of Latasha's.

She nibbled on a fingernail, her foot tapping faster while she twisted in her seat and repeated prayers in her head--all in an effort to prevent that encroaching panic from taking control.

Then, out of the blue, car doors sprang open and people clambered out, throwing terrified glances behind themselves. Drivers sprinted forwards and dragged their loves ones into the rain. Muffled shouts resounded beyond Imani's sealed windows. A numbing sensation coursed through her--that sense of foreboding right before horror struck a split-second later--while she looked in the rearview mirror, not understanding what caused such a...

She gaped as her heart skipped a beat. The civilians running between the vehicle alleys were trying to escape a towering column of spinning air, connecting clouds to the ground and heading towards the highway. All feeling leaked out of her limbs once and for all. Her gaze hooked onto the sinister rotation of wind and dust. Finally, she shrieked, snapping out of her contemplation.

Imani rushed out, thankful she wasn't wearing heels today, and broke into a crazed race against Mother Nature. Instantly, the cloudburst soaked her to the bone, inundating her face and every inch of her garments. She raised an arm over her eyes in a feeble attempt to see clearer and pushed her legs forward. The violent rain and humidity made her struggle to breathe.

People shoved to get as far away as possible, screaming in terror. Luckily, nobody paid heed to Imani, but further down the road, a man trampled a fallen woman. On her right, a man carried a wailing little girl on his shoulders. On her left, fire caught in a building due to the fierce lightning bolts; the rain couldn't even drown it out. She dashed past folks that emerged from the doors with frantic movements, all in a series of hollers and yells.

Among the clamour, Imani could only think of her sister. She zipped over the pavement, her boots splashing off the blacktop as she zigzagged around the chaotic crowd. A fear unlike any other, cold and nefarious and paralyzing, stronger than the fear of the tornado, wrapped around her galloping heart. She needed to make sure Latasha was gone before finding the nearest structure with a basement. She wouldn't leave without knowing her sister was safe.

Adjusting her breathing as well as possible while positioning her limbs, Imani passed the mass of people with the speed that titled her captain of the track team back in high school. The wind roared in her ears, mingling with the cries and the splattering rainfall. She looked behind to see the giant twister barreling through the interstate, ripping vehicles and asphalt apart, hurling fiery rubble in every direction. Her vehicle must be wrecked beyond measure by now...

Imani hurried with the force of desperation fueling her steps.

When she approached Marion Square at last, screaming her sister's name at the top of her lungs, the space was deserted and thicker shadows smothered the nearby buildings. The sick feeling in her gut beckoned her to continue. Her sister must be stuck outside if she'd headed home. If Imani truly didn't catch her, then... she'd curl up in her own basement and pray to every God and furniture her sister had sought refuge...

Thunder and lightning transformed Charleston into a modern Hell. Bright flares, distress and mighty booms all meshed together, painting the city into an infernal swamp. A bolt could imbue Imani at any given moment, but she couldn't afford to think about it. Clenching her teeth, breath short, she crossed a street and veered a corner. A burst of coughing racked her chest. It persisted, shaking her entire body.

As the intensifying coughs made her stumble, Imani stopped herself, leaning an arm against a brick façade and doubling over. The inhale painfully scraped against her constricting throat. She felt as if she were being choked with a pillow over her face or like trying to breathe while immersed in water. Her knees wobbled and buckled to the flooded ground.

Wheezing, Imani supported herself with her hands on the pavement. Panic festered inside her when she realized she couldn't breathe. Her spine curved under the effort to drag air into her agonizing lungs. Her fingers clawed at her throat, her eyes popping out of their sockets. Imani's vision blurred while she stared at the impenetrable wall of clouds as wrath streaked the sky, unable to utter a word. Nobody came to help.

***

Latasha bawled on her mother's shoulder, dampening the fabric of her black dress. There was no Spoleto Festival. There was no liveliness. There was no joy. Thousands of people amassed on the streets, but not for the festivities. Decked out in dark attire, bleak faces paraded broodingly through the debris and ruined infrastructure.

Latasha had indeed found shelter after grasping the scale of the storm, certain her sister was still safe in traffic. But after the thunderstorm was over, her body had been discovered near Marion Square, lips and nails blue. The autopsy revealed that lack of oxygen killed her, and her airways were swollen.

But Imani had never suffered from asthma. According to the doctor, she inhaled a fragment of pollen which triggered a similar reaction. This rare phenomenon happened when pollen was broken down by moisture, wind and intense storms. That tiny speck had been enough to kill her, and Imani's last action had been to find Latasha.

It should have been me... It should have been me... It should have been me...

Her parents, holding back tears, squeezed Latasha tight in the midst of the crowd. She was their only child left. As the sombre gathering moved on, the family walked, hand in hand, passing by a reporter.

He stood on the sidelines, gazing into a TV camera with a microphone in one hand.

"Damages go up to a staggering worth five million dollars. Nobody had anticipated an electrical storm of this magnitude descending upon Charleston county and wiping out over five hundred lives. However, we are seeing recurrent manifestations even further in the west and up north with the hotter climates. Based on scientific preditions, because of temperatures rising from carbon emissions, global warming will only increase in the upcoming decades and might continue to generate such supercells--and maybe even ones that can create typhoons."