u/Vegemerson

As a born-and-raised Iowan, I’m no stranger to tornadoes. Most midwesterners are accustomed to tornado season; it’s just a fact of life here. We tend to be pretty blasé about tornadoes since we’re so accustomed to experiencing multiple tornado warnings every spring and summer, yet it’s exceedingly rare to actually see a tornado in-person, let alone have one strike your home. That being said, I’m one of the unlucky few. 

The year was 1994, and I was an obnoxious college freshman at a small private university about two hours from my hometown– close enough to feel familiar, yet far enough to feel new. It was the second semester, and I had just moved out of the cramped dorms and into a shabby yet surprisingly spacious two-bedroom house on the outskirts of town with my new roommate, Mujo. Mujo and his parents were Bosnian refugees who had relocated to Iowa the previous year to escape the Bosnian War. Mujo’s father was a doctor and his mother a teacher and they were brilliant people, but since neither of their licenses were valid in the US, they found work where they could– in one of the many meat packing plants. Mujo was a pre-med student, following in his father’s footsteps, with a brain to match. Not gonna lie, I was jealous of his work ethic; Two semesters in and my major was still undeclared. I was less concerned about figuring out what I was going to do with my life than I was with beating Mortal Kombat and finding upperclassmen to buy booze for me. 

I was a bit nervous moving in with Mujo, coming from small town Iowa and not knowing a damn thing about Bosnia or its culture, but Mujo and I were fast friends, the catalyst being our shared love of video games. Back home, all Mujo had was a knockoff NES called a Pegasus– he was enamored with my SNES, and I was more than happy to show him the ropes. When he wasn’t studying and I wasn’t partying, we’d spend our free time combing through flea markets for discount games. I helped him practice his English in exchange for him “helping” me with my chemistry lab reports (read: doing them for me), and his mom was always bringing over homemade burek. I helped loosen him up and he helped keep me accountable. Overall, it was a great arrangement for both of us. 

It was a typical Friday in late April, a bit chilly with a pleasantly warm breeze. I generally didn’t keep a close eye on the weather, but I do recall seeing on the local news that there was a moderate risk for severe thunderstorms that evening, including the possibility of tornadoes. 

It was a pretty typical day of classes, one that wasn’t especially memorable. I overheard chatter about the incoming storm, but mostly in the context of classmates debating whether they should hit the bars after class or stay in. No one seemed especially worried about the threat of severe weather, just trying to plan around it. T’was the midwestern way. Mujo’s final class ended an hour before mine, so it was no surprise that he had beaten me home. Mujo gazed out the living room window at the sky. The soft jazz of The Weather Channel emanated from the TV. I glanced at the screen as I sat my bag down.

“ **SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WATCH UNTIL 2AM.** TONIGHT… THUNDERSTORMS… SOME POSSIBLY SEVERE WITH TORNADOES.  LOWS IN THE UPPER 40S. CHANCE OF RAIN 90 PERCENT.”

“It’s probably gonna be a bust,” I said before taking in a deep breath and blowing methodically into our copy of Super Mario Kart before sliding it into the console, “No one else seems all that worried about it.”

“Prepare for the worst, hope for the best,” Mujo grunted, plopping down onto the couch beside me.

We played a few rounds, ordered a pizza for dinner, and eventually made our way to our own rooms. By 9:30 there was a light drizzle outside, and the sound quickly lulled me to sleep.

It felt like I had just fallen asleep when a loud crack of thunder made me shoot up in bed. As my eyes peeled open, I was flashbanged by a brilliant bold of lightning, followed by another immediate crack of thunder that shook the house. I groggily sat up, peeking through the blinds out the window behind my bed. Outside the wind raged, the trees surrounding the house bending and buckling as the rain seemed to fall sideways, blown by the gusts. There were no streetlights this far outside of town, but the strobelike lightning illuminated my view. I tried to turn on my bedside lamp to glance at the clock, only to be met with darkness. Shit, I thought, power must be out.

Almost immediately, a low drone was audible beneath the cacophony, which quickly grew in pitch and volume– a discordant, wailing omen. The tornado sirens were going off. As soon as I sat up and prepared to get Mujo, I heard a frantic knock on my door. Before I could respond, the door swung open, revealing a pale, trembling Mujo, flashlight in hand. I could see tears welling up in his eyes as he stammered. 

“Woah woah woah, what’s going on, man?” I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, it’s just the sirens.”

Sirens. Something so ubiquitous with severe weather to me, but to Mujo they meant something different. My heart dropped when I realized why he was so distraught.

“Hey, hey…” I said, not really sure how to handle the situation, “It’s alright, you’re safe. We’re safe.”

Mujo buried his face in his hands, choking back a quiet sob before nodding slowly. Christ, the shit this guy must have gone through.

“It’s just a tornado warning. It doesn’t mean there’s actually a tornado, just that there *could* be one.”

Mujo tensed, his voice agitated and panicked.

“Sirens don’t sound for no reason!”

I couldn’t help but flinch slightly, startled by the sudden outburst. It was clear that Mujo was deeply troubled by the situation, and I honestly couldn’t blame him. Mujo took a deep breath, his gaze locked to the floor.

“Sorry, I didn’t–”

“Nah man, you’re good. Let’s head down to the basement.”

I pulled the top blanket off my bed, slinging it over my shoulder. I reached into the nightstand drawer and grabbed my hand-crank weather radio. With the power out, it was our only way to know what was going on out there. I kept my hand on Mujo’s shoulder, sort of pushing him along as we crossed the house. As we descended the basement stairs, the sirens became more and more muffled, and Mujo seemed to relax a bit.

The basement was small and unfinished– grimy, dusty, and spattered with spider webs. The boiler was stationed in the center of the basement, and besides the circuit breaker, was the only thing in the room. We seldom went down into the basement– pretty much just on the rare occasion that we needed to flip the circuit breaker. I spread the blanket across the floor in front of the boiler, giving us a more comfortable place to sit. Mujo propped the flashlight against the boiler and began to turn the radio crank. The radio slowly came to life as Mujo fiddled with the dial, scanning for an audible station.

“...Baseball-sized hail and damaging wind gusts exceeding seventy-five miles per hour across the region. Radar indicates–”

“ERRRR ERRR ERRRRR”

“BEEEEEEEEEEP”

“The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for…”

The robotic voice proceeded to slowly list multiple counties, including ours.

“...In Iowa until 3:45 AM. At 2:37 AM, a severe thunderstorm capable of producing a tornado was located east of [our town]... Take cover now. Move to an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. Avoid windows. If in a mobile home, a vehicle, or outdoors, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. If no shelter is available, lie flat in the nearest ditch or other low spot. Doppler radar has indicated this storm may contain destru–”

“Pa told us all to go inside.”

“–the size of baseballs or larger. Take cover now.”

There was no pause or change in cadence or tone when the voice deviated from the script. As the local weather broadcast resumed, Mujo and I exchanged confused glances.

“Pa told us all to go inside?” Mujo slowly repeated, “What do they mean by that?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno, it doesn’t make any sense. It was probably a mistake,” I suggested, “Maybe someone at the station hit the wrong button?”

Mujo didn’t seem satisfied, but slowly nodded. We continued listening to the local weather reporter as she detailed the storm heading towards us.

“Wind gusts of up to sixty miles per hour may cause–”

“ERRRR ERRR ERRRRR”

“BEEEEEEEEEEP”

“Another one?” I scoffed, “Christ that was fast.”

As the robotic voice began its spiel, I quickly realized that the message was identical to the one that had been broadcast a few minutes ago. 

“At 2:37 AM, a severe thunderstorm capable of producing a tornado was located–”

“The sky was green. The roosters were crowing.”

“--Cover now. Move to an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. Avoid windows. If in a mobile home, a vehicle, or outdoors, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. If no shelter is available, lie flat in the nearest ditch or other low spot. Doppler radar has indicated this storm may contain destructive hail the size of baseballs or larger. Take cover now.”

The voice interrupted itself, then continued without missing a beat. 

“Something’s wrong,” Mujo muttered, “Should we call the station?”

“I think they’ve got their hands full right now,” I said dismissively, trying to mask my own sense of unease, “I bet the signal’s jumbled or something. I dunno how it works.”

“Probably best not to leave the basement now anyways,” Mujo observed, clearly a bit dissatisfied but preoccupied with listening intently to the broadcast as the storm intensified. The wind howled outside, punctuated by crashes of thunder.

Based on what the weather report was saying, the worst of the storm had reached us– we were in the middle of it now. I stared at the concrete wall, aimlessly tracing shapes with my finger on the blanket as the reporter discussed the wind speeds occurring in various communities. It sounded as though our town was in the lead. Mujo remained tense, slowly nodding as though he were chewing and digesting every spoken word. 

“Meanwhile just a few miles south we’ve received reports of wind gusts reaching–”

“ERRRR ERRR ERRRRR”

“BEEEEEEEEEEP”

“What the hell?!” I exclaimed with half of a laugh, “What is it this time?”

Same as before: severe thunderstorm, take cover, yada yada.

“If no shelter is available, lie flat in the nearest ditch or other low spot. Doppler rad–

“Ma put me in the cellar. She said I had to pray. I prayed we’d be safe.”

 “–structive hail the size of baseballs or larger. Take cover now.”

The look of discomfort on Mujo’s face echoed my own feelings. 

“Is someone pranking us or something?” I said with a chuckle that hardly masked my nervousness. 

“What’s the joke?” Mujo challenged, and I had no response. The broadcast resumed, muffled by the sounds of hail pelting the roof.

“...Radar-indicated hook echo just east of–”

“ERRRR ERRR ERRRRR”

“BEEEEEEEEEEP”

“Ughhhhhh…” I rolled my eyes, dramatically flopping onto my back “Can they please stop with that damn tone?!”

In all honesty, I was thoroughly unsettled and confused. Why did they keep interrupting the broadcast with the same alert message? And why was the narrator interjecting random statements? I almost had to laugh it off to keep myself from getting freaked out.

“If in a mobile home, a vehicle, or outdoors, move to the closest substantial shel–”

“The chickens were screaming. Ma was crying. The wind smelled like dirt and metal.”

“–lie flat in the nearest ditch or other low spot. Doppler radar has indicated this storm may contain destructive hail the size of baseballs or larger. Take cover now.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. As the storm intensified outside, the sirens began to sound once more. I looked at Mujo and saw him swallow hard, his eyes fixated on the wall.

“It’s just a storm,” I reminded him, keeping my voice soft and low, “And by the sound of it, the worst is almost past. Then we can get back to bed.” 

With a slight smile I quipped, “If any of my professors count me absent tomorrow I’m suing. I need my beauty sleep.”

The corner of Mujo’s lip curved slightly, but I could tell that he was troubled– troubled by the sirens, troubled by the storm, troubled by the odd emergency alerts. He knew something was wrong, and I think I did too; I was just too scared to accept it. Surely it was just a station error. Surely. 

“Do you think there’s actually gonna be a tornado?” Mujo asked.

“Statistically? Nah.”

“Personally?” He glanced at me. I smirked.

“Nah.”

“ERRRR ERRR ERRRRR”

“BEEEEEEEEEEP”

“Speak of the devil.”

“The National Weather Service has issued a tor–”

“It all went quiet again. I knew God would help. I ran outside to tell Ma and Pa.”

“Take cover now.”

It was only a few minutes later when the sirens finally stopped. The thunder no longer shook the house, and the hail had slowed to a lazy, rhythmic thudding. The reporter announced that all tornado warnings had expired, and the broadcast promptly came to a close as pre-recorded talk show segments began to play. It was almost four in the morning, and despite the fact that I was definitely going to be using this as an excuse to skip class, I was eager to get back to bed. The instant I stood up, the radio blared: 

“ERRRR ERRR ERRRRR”

“BEEEEEEEEEEP”

“What. The fuck.”

After the long tone, there was silence, nothing but faint static for around ten seconds. Then, the voice spoke:

“I saw Ma sleeping in the old oak tree. Her dress was tangled on a branch. One of her shoes was higher up than she was. The chickens were spread across three fields. I thought somebody had taken them apart. I found Pa in the cornfield. I knew it was him because of his suspenders. He wasn’t put together right anymore. The wind started to howl again. I tried to carry Pa to the cellar but he was too heavy. I was too slow.”

“Take cover now.”

At this point, I was over it. I turned the radio off and motioned for Mujo to stand.

“C’mon,” I said, picking up the blanket and shaking off the dust, “Let’s go back upstairs. We’re good now.”

“Wait,” Mujo interjected, “If it’s saying take cover, shouldn’t we…” 

“Take cover from what? It’s over. Damn thing is just… Glitching. Or something.”

Mujo opened his mouth slightly as though he wanted to say something. I spoke for him.

“Look, I don’t know what kinda pretentious art project that was, but I’m not gonna sit here and listen to fucking slam poetry at 4am. Let’s go.”

“But… It doesn’t make sense.”

“Exactly.”

My mind was swarming with questions– and surely so was Mujo’s– but I was too tired to question anything, too tired to care. I tucked the radio into my hoodie pocket and started up the stairs.

“Take cover now.”

I stumbled, barely catching myself. What the hell? I pulled out the radio and checked to make sure I had turned it off, and sure enough, I had. Any sense of unease I had been feeling was now overtaken by annoyance.

“Y’know, I’m just gonna leave it down here,” I said, less-than-graciously tossing the radio onto the concrete floor. The plastic casing cracked on impact.

 I couldn’t care less. I was going to bed. As soon as my foot hit the first step–

“Take cover now. Take cover now. Take cover now. Take cover–”

At this point, I screamed in frustration, banging my fist on the wooden banister. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you shut the fu–”

Mujo grabbed my shoulder hard, snapping me out of my rage. I spun around, and his eyes were wide.

“Shh! Listen.”

The radio stopped, and as my ears acclimated to the silence, I could make out a faint, distant sound. Like a car driving up the road. No, more like a semi. Actually, as the sound grew louder, it was distinctly recognizable as the sound of a train. My heart stopped as Mujo and I exchanged a look of horror.

“Take cover now.”

I barely remember what happened next– adrenaline took over. I remember Mujo and I huddling beneath the stairs, throwing the blanket over ourselves and shrinking as small as we could. What was once a faint rumbling was now becoming an unbearably loud roar. I felt a sharp pain in my head as my ears popped. For a brief moment there was deafening silence, followed by a cacophony of shattering glass, splintering wood, warping metal. I felt my brain rattling against my skull, my flesh pulled taut as the wind tried to rip it from my bones, and then, merciful nothingness. 

The house had endured a direct hit from the tornado–All that was left was a pile of rubble obscuring a miraculously pristine basement. I believe two or three other homes endured minor damage, but thankfully no other parties were injured. And as miserable as the recovery was– my body was effectively one giant bruise– Mujo and I both got off about as easily as someone hit directly by a tornado could hope for. If I hadn’t listened to Mujo, I wouldn’t be alive to tell this story. But more perplexingly, neither of us would be alive if we had not heeded the mysterious warning.

Over 30 years later I find myself hunkered down in my basement with my wife and month-old daughter as the sirens blare outside. She gently rocks and hushes the baby as I shoot out a quick text:

“Yo doc, you in your safe place?”

An almost instantaneous response:

“Lol, rich coming from you. Yeah, we’re in the basement. Tell the baby I said hi.”

I chuckle, leaning over to kiss my daughter’s forehead. The sirens don’t last long, leaving only the soft rumbling of thunder in the distance and the rhythmic tapping of raindrops hitting the roof. It’s rather cozy.

“Think we’re good to head upstairs, babe? Looks like we’re in the all-clear.”

My wife holds up her phone with the weather radar app open to show me, and the silence is broken by the harsh screech of an incoming emergency alert. Our daughter startles awake and begins crying as we fumble with our phones to silence the blaring. As my wife shushes the baby I glance down at the screen:

“**Emergency Alert** National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 8:30 PM CST. Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. I sat in the basement with my wife and month-old daughter. I already knew what came next.”