This is another original story with another character that sprung from a fandom but it could be its own thing. Still not edited because I just finished writing it.
Warnings: Death, Tornados, Amnesia, Body Horror (minor, dont describe it)
“My name? Do I have a name? …Well, I think…I think it started with a ‘W’ and then ended with a ‘Bee’ sound? Maybe…um…W…Weather? Weatherby? Yeah, that sounds right!”
This job was supposed to be the promotion that he had dreamed of. Moving out of the studio and out into the great wide world to search for the most dangerous natural disasters that plagued the world over. Hurricanes, floods, blizzards, earthquakes, and, of course, tornadoes.
That was the mission currently when Wybie and his crew entered Tornado Alley. It was the season for the cyclones of death to be raging. He had even gotten reports of a possible cloud forming over the small town they had stopped but it turned out to be a false set of hope.
The sky above him was cloudy but the air was dry. There was no even indication that a normal thunder storm would even start the air was so…it was so dry.
Wybie kicked a random rock into the road. He had been walking for the past hour to clear his mind, so he could come to some decision in this Kansas town.
He could call the station and say that this location was a bust but that would have him one episode short of the requirement he was given. He knew they should not have skipped out on a blizzard, but he had wanted the vacation days. He should have expected this. Get so far, finally leave the studio to explore the great wide world in search of extreme weather, and he gets nothing.
Wybie took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, a finger poised over the number for the news station back on the coast.
Maybe it would not be so bad? Maybe they would understand and give him an extension on the deadline to find a storm. One could not control the weather after all.
He did not think about it anymore; with a movement of his finger he pressed call. The ringing seemed to take forever, at least it seemed that way as the sky over him seemed to get darker. The man impatiently tapped his fingers on the side of his leg.
A breath of relief left him when, finally, someone on the other end of the phone picked up.
“Hello?”
“Ashton! Hey, man, it’s Wybie.”
“Oh, Wybie! How’s Kansas? Find yourself in Oz yet?”
Wybie laughed and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, that is the problem. Apparently, we got here just in time for there to be a twister drought. Haven’t even gotten a warning.”
“Really?”
Wybie shook his head and gave a sigh.
“I know. I…I don’t really know what to do. If nothing shows up, then I don’t have any film.”
“Well that is not your fault. You can’t control the weather.”
Wybie looked up at the sky and frowned. The clouds had not been that dark when he had left the motel. The hair on his neck started to stand on end as a strong breeze blew around him.
“Yeah…It’s pretty dry here.”
Wybie looked down from the sky and around the open plain. This could not be happening right now.
“Wybie? You okay?”
“I’m-,” He cut himself off as he saw the very thing he had wanted to find his whole time in this place. A cyclone cloud about to touch down on the earth. What should have been an exciting sight was one of horror knowing he was exposed to the elements.
“Oh my God.”
“Wybie? What is it?”
The wind around the reporter began to get stronger and it seemed to snap him out of his stunned silence. He had to go and find a safe place. If he stayed out in the open, he would be crushed.
“It…there is a twister! It just touched down.”
“Really? Where?”
Wybie turned his back to the oncoming storm and started to run back towards the center of the town. The sirens could be heard blaring.
“Right in front of me…Oh God! I don’t think I am going to make it.”
“Wybie? You still there?”
The reporter’s lungs burned as dirt was kicked up from the winds. He could barely see where he had left the car. The roar of the twister was taking over all his senses and he could barely hear Aston on the other line.
“It is right behind me! Oh God…Oh God…Help!”
Debris flew past his head and Wybie was forced to duck down to avoid it. The strong wind ended up pushing him fully down the ground. A rock went and hit the back of his head making him woozy.
The phone had left his hands sometimes during the fall but Wybie could care less about that. He needed to find a ditch or a shelter. He needed to get somewhere safe before…before he was torn to shreds.
“Please! Please no! Please!”
Tears streamed down his face as he tried to crawl towards the town. His glasses were scratched up with dirt and he could barely see through them.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!”
The roar of the twister was getting louder and more debris began to fly. Something hard hit the back of his head and the world around him went dark.
The reporter woke up on the side of the road. His shirt was messed up, pants ripped, and glasses gone. His head hurt so much but he could not tell why.
He groaned as he sat up and rubbed the back of his skull, grimacing when he felt something wet.
The unconscious form of Wybie was pulled up into the air as the twister got closer. It got spun around and around and around. The high winds and the debris beating up the body badly. It was like a child with a rag doll.
If the person was not dead before they were dead now. Especially after the tornado spit the body out like an old piece of gum.
The man slowly stood up and wobbled on his legs. He knew he had to get back to somewhere, but he was no sure where. He was not even fully understanding where he was currently.
“Hello?” He called out to the empty street. The trees were the only thing that answered him. That did not seem right.
Wasn’t he somewhere away from trees?
The body laid out in the farm land for a week before anyone found it. A young boy had accidentally stumbled on it on accident which alerted the authorities. The skin was in tatters; so were the clothes. Bones broken from the high fall.
The crew that had come with him were not ones happy to be able to identify the body. But it was him; Wybie. His glasses missing and a scared look on what remained of his face. It was hard to call the studio to tell them of another tragic death that had befallen them
He stumbled along the road confused. The more he walked the more hopeless he felt.
Thunder rolled over his head and soon rain began to fall. The rain drops mimicked the tears that started to streak down his face. He did not know where he was, how he got there, or what had happened to him and now it was raining.
“Go away, you dumb sheep,” he mumbled to himself in hopes it would make him laugh but it did not. It just made him sniffle and the rain seemed to get harder with that.
Wybie’s funeral happened on a dry day. There was not a cloud in the sky and the world seemed just too happy.
He was only twenty-three. His mother was crying a river. His sister refused to look at the coffin.
In the distance he saw a light and began to run for it. The rain seeming to stop as the hope flared in his heart and the sun started to peak out from behind the trees.
There was a building. He felt in his heart that he knew that building.
The man did not stop running until he was at the door and knocking on it loudly.
“Hello? Is anyone in there? I don’t know where I am, can you help me?”
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