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Sometimes, in little hidden places around town, I would see a strange symbol. Once I discovered the symbol, I began to notice it in other places, or different versions of it. I’d happen upon it unexpectedly: it would be carved into a tree, or written in the margin of a textbook, or spray-painted under a bridge, and although there were variations,
If I stayed in this town much longer, I thought, maybe I wouldn’t even fit in with myself.
“We all get it, you’re the freak who bikes everywhere with headphones on and a cat in your basket. You’ve established that fascinating persona.
Everyone talked a lot about the tornado killer those weeks after Tornado Day. Wondering where he lived. Who he hung around with. What he’d been doing all those years that nobody had seen him. What was his name, even. But nobody had any answers, not even adults. And nobody had seen him since Tornado Day.
CONTAMINATION IS PURIFIED ONLY BY THE DEATH OF THE IMPURE And: ONLY THE PURE CAN KILL A TORNADO
But you’re not supposed to test the necklaces, they were saying in the back, my grandma said that’s not right, my dad said that’s blasphemy, a necklace is like a promise of protection, you have to wear it in good faith, the tornado killers in our necklaces died to protect us, not to be tested just for fun, for no reason.
The music was loud and some of the boys were eating the tornado killer’s leftover takeout from the refrigerator, they’d brought in beer from the van and they were drinking, it was a party, we were partying at the tornado killer’s house,
he said the tornado killer lives with a ringing phone he’s never allowed to answer,
“Everyone came back home but Keith.” Cecilia’s face was in darkness, her voice on edge. “The tornadoes let us all go but they kept him.”
There was a body in the sky.
The radio said some guy had been scanning the outskirts of town with his binoculars, watching the tornadoes, when he spotted a body flying in the sky.
Then I hopped off the ledge, I hung in the air, the world blurred past and suddenly I was underwater, fresh and cold and roaring, I splashed back up into the sunshine and then I saw the tornado killer. He was swimming in the quarry with me. Not inside my mind anymore. He was somehow right there, treading water, looking at me. This wasn’t part of my memory— But it was happening now. The tornado killer was swimming closer, he was laughing and I said “How are you doing this?” but he didn’t answer, the storm clouds rolled overhead and rain pelted down around us, he came closer with his green eye
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the tornado killer hadn’t been protecting anyone, when he fought a tornado he was just a nightmare devouring itself, giving birth to itself, circulating its nightmare energy, and now I was part of that nightmare.
Far away, the people surrounded the tornado killer. Still keeping a cautious distance from him, but standing around with some purpose. Don’t look. I saw them begin to take out their sharp tools. Scissors, knives, saws— I turned away. Something had been ripped out of me. I sank to the ground. Everything was blurry. I couldn’t breathe. Don’t look. I knew what they were doing. Everyone was getting their fair share of the tornado killer except for me.
Whenever I saw someone, especially someone who looked like they’d messed up in life, like they’d made some bad choices, or had bad luck, no matter how badly they had gone wrong I always thought to myself, some mother had once held them in her arms and thought, the world is brand-new for you, you can do anything, you can have a great life. I am going to try my hardest for you.
