Beyond the mouth of the cave, the storm roars like a wild animal. But there’s something else in the air now, a terrible, high-pitched shrieking that sounds almost human. Sticks and leaves blow in from the night. Butch whines again. “What’s that?” Frankie asks in a trembling whisper. From the inky black, Caleb answers him. “It’s a twister.”
The constant disconnect from the flowery descriptions and the dialogue is aggravating.
