The nurse smiled. She was a tiny little thing. I’d thought she was fresh out of nursing school until she opened her mouth. She reminded me a lot of America—tough, confident, and would accept zero percent of shit anyone might give her.

“I told you. I looked,” she said. “America is in the system, which means she’s been seen here. She’s probably out looking for you. Stay put. She’ll come back.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel better”—I looked down at her badge—“Brandi.”

She smirked. “No, but getting these wounds flushed will. Keep this clean and dry. You’ll have a small nip gone from your ear.”

“Fabulous,” I murmured.

“You’re the one who took shelter under an overpass. Don’t you know anything? That’s worse than standing in an open field. When a tornado goes over a bridge, it increases the wind velocity.”

“Did they teach you that in nursing school?” I asked.

“This is Tornado Alley. If you don’t know the rules already, you’ll be eager to learn after the first tornado season.”

“I can see why.”

She breathed out a laugh. “Consider the ear bragging rights. Not many people can say they’ve taken a trip in a tornado and lived to tell about it.”

“I don’t think they’ll be impressed by a chipped ear.”

“If you’re wishing for a gnarly scar, you’ll have one,” she said, pointing to my shoulder.

I looked down at the white bandage and tape on my shoulder and then behind me toward the door. “If she’s not here in fifteen minutes, I’m going back out to look for her.”

“I can’t get your discharge papers ready in—”

“Fifteen minutes,” I said.

She was unimpressed with my demand. “Listen, princess, if you haven’t noticed, I’m busy. She’ll be here. We’ve got another storm coming in anyway, and—”

I stiffened. “What? When?”

She shrugged, looking to the mounted television in the waiting room. People of all ages—all soaked with rainwater, filthy, and scared—stood, wrapped in hospital-issued wool blankets. They began to crowd around the screen. A meteorologist was standing in front of a radar moving a few inches at a time. A large red blob surrounded by yellows and greens crept up to Emporia’s city limits, and then it started over, stuck in a loop.

“It’s going to swallow us up and spit us out,” Brandi said.

My eyebrows pulled in as the panic swelled in my chest. “She’s still out there. I don’t even know where to look.”

“Shepley,” Brandi said, grabbing my chin and forcing me to face her, “stay put. If she comes back here and finds out you’ve left, what do you think she’s going to do?” When I didn’t answer, she let go of my chin, disgusted. “Do the same thing you would. Go looking for you. This is the safest place for her, and if you stay here, she’ll find her way back.”

I gripped the edge of the stretcher, squeezing the plastic-covered cushion in my fist, while Brandi carefully slid a scrub top over my head. She helped me slip my arms through, patiently waiting, while I struggled with lifting my left shoulder.