“We’ll make room,” Shepley said.

As we climbed the steep incline of the concrete hill, cars that were still crossing overhead sounded like bass drums. Parents had tucked their children into the deepest corners they could find and covered them with their own bodies. Couples huddled together, and a group of four teenage girls wiped their wet cheeks, alternating between cussing at their cell phones and praying.

“There,” Shepley said, pulling me beneath the western bridge. “It’s going to hit the east bridge first.” He led me to the center where there was a small space just big enough for one of us. “Climb up, Mare,” he said, pointing to the small lip preceding the two-feet deep concrete niche.

I shook my head. “There’s no room for you.”

He frowned. “America, we don’t have time for this.”

“It’s coming!” someone from the west bridge cried.

Shepley grabbed each side of my face and planted a hard kiss on my lips. “I love you. We’re going to be okay. I promise. Get up there.”

He tried to guide me, but I resisted.

“Shep—” I said over the wind.

“Right now!” he demanded. He’d never spoken to me like that before.

I swallowed and then obeyed.

Shepley looked around, huffing and peeling his soaked T-shirt away from his torso. He noticed a man below holding up his cell phone.

“Tim! Get up here!” a woman called.

Tim slicked back his wet dark hair, continuing to point his phone in the direction of the tornado. “It’s getting close!” he called back, smiling with excitement.

Children cried out, and a few adults did, too.

“Is this happening?” I said, feeling my heart thundering against my rib cage.

Shepley squeezed my hand. “Look at me, Mare. It’ll be over soon.”

I nodded quickly, leaning over to see Tim still filming. He took a step back and then began scrambling up the incline.

I pulled Shepley as close to me as I could, and he held me tight. Time seemed to pause. It was quiet—no wind, no crying, almost as if the whole world had held its breath in anticipation of the next few seconds. This was a moment in time that would change the lives of everyone who had taken cover under the wrong bridges.

Too quickly, peace was over, and the wind began to roar like a dozen military jets were slowly flying low overhead. The grass in the median below began to whip, and I felt like I was under a mile of water, the change in air pressure feeling heavy and disorienting. At first, I was pushed back a bit, and then I saw Tim being taken off his feet. He slammed to the ground, clawed at the concrete, and then grass before being sucked into the sky by an invisible monster.

Screams surrounded me, and my fingers dug into Shepley’s back. He leaned toward me, but as the funnel made its way to the other side of the east bridge and then ours, the air changed. Another person cried as she lost her grip and was pulled out from our hiding place. One by one, anyone not tucked inside the nook where the hill met the bridge was ripped away.