The Storm Read Online Free Page B

the lane away from the store. In the rear view mirror, I could see two police cars pulling within feet of the main entrance to the LeapMart. A vibration rattled in my shirt pocket, and I almost jumped. My nerves were shot.
                  It was Stacy calling. She probably wanted to know where the hell I had driven off to at 11:20 at night. She could wait until I got home in a few minutes. It would be quite a story and until then, one of the scariest moments of my life. I was safe with food and going home. It was nice but naive to believe that the worst was behind. The time was 11:45 p.m.
     
    Chapter 3:
    Night Rainbows
                  It was just another night on my street, Rambell Court. As I parked and got out of the car to look around and see who was watching me, it appeared that nobody was up or cared. I took deep breaths. The craziness at the store still had my heart beating fast. The adrenaline had worn off, and my hands shook like a geriatric grandma’s on top of the steering wheel while I sat in the car sucking in deep breaths. Nobody was around; it was late. Time to off-load the goods from the scariest grocery trip I’ve ever made. Running to the house, I quietly opened the door. Stacy was there waiting with our dog, the Murphy monster.
                  “Where the hell did you go? I tried to call you. We have extra toilet paper in the basement, you know?”
                  I stood there trembling in the door, just staring with blood shot eyes staring at her the same way I would if I had just drunk twenty soft drinks.
                  “Josh, what’s the matter? What happened?”
                  Stacy was a lovely wife and very emotional, so tough news was often best broken to her gently. There wasn’t time for that. “Something bad is happening, hunnie. The president was on TV and some sun storm is coming at our planet, and we’re going to lose electricity for a while. I went to get some food, and people just went crazy. I . . . I . . . I don’t even know where to begin. Are the kids asleep?”
                  “Yes, I was too, but I heard you leave and came down here.”
                  Murphy was rubbing himself around my knees, looking for attention. He didn’t know what was happening but could sense my distress. His dog kisses on my extended hand helped ground me. “Help me unload the car as quickly and quietly as possible. I loaded up.”
                  She flipped the outside lights on, and my reaction was immediate.
                  “Keep the lights off!”
                  “O . . . K . . . You’re kinda scaring me here.”
                  “I know, I know,” I came back at her. “Just trust me, hun. We have to quickly get what’s in the car into the house and then probably hide it and keep it a secret.”
                  A half hour passed as we unloaded everything into the house and unpacked. Stacy shot me the confused angry look when she saw several dozen cans of spaghetti and meatballs. The spam and canned fruit drew a disgusted look. After stocking several large bags of rice, she had emotionally recovered somewhat but nearly lost it when the jar of pickled pig’s feet appeared. I’m still not sure how that even found its way in.
                  The time was 12:23. Time for a drink or three. Also time to explain to her what’s going on in detail and make last-minute preparations. “Stacy, let’s relax in the dining room.”
                  “Ok, pour me a glass of wine too, please.”
                  Finally settled enough so my hands had stopped shaking, I opened a special bottle of red wine from the volcanic island of Santorini we had held onto since our honeymoon. Our palettes would never forget its beautiful acidic flavor that was so unique. With two glasses filled to the very top that I