It came while I was away, a swirling dynamo of violence. Like the Grim Reaper’s scythe, it cut a swath across the Indiana countryside, taking my house, my barn. It stole my wife and my children, too, and I want them back.
For the last three years, I’ve stalked it relentlessly, from the green soy-bean fields of Ohio to the flat, dusty plains of Oklahoma.
Now I’ve cornered it. It lumbers toward me, its angry turbine whirling at full throttle. Oblivious to its deafening roar, I close my eyes and wait to be sucked into the vortex, to find my family.