Wet bullets pounded my skull. The giant oak slapped the roof, knocking loose sharp shingles to shatter on cobblestone.
Jack out there, lost in the TV’s Category 5 storm.
Lightning flashed an impossibly tall woman in a black dress, hips swaying, a terrifying dance spawned by the devilish storm.
I dodged the roof’s guillotines, hopped an oak limb, ducked under a flying red wheelbarrow.
Thunder cracked. A bark. I scooped up Jack, huddled near the shed. Fur flying, he licked my face. Jack safe in the basement, I crouched atop the storm door as she ripped the roof off the place.