The Chase for the Mystery Twister Read Free

message.
    Frank caught sight of the man’s silhouette through the dust-filled air.
    â€œStop!” Frank shouted at the top of his lungs.
    Phil must have heard Frank, because he stomped his foot hard on the brakes, nearly tossing Frank out the window. Frank opened the door and ran to the man and his dog, leading them back to the truck. Joe took the hound dog and passed it on to Phil, while Frank pushed the man up onto the seat and then squeezed in behind him.
    â€œI don’t think this truck cab was made to fit four men and a dog,” Joe said, his head pressed against the roof and his face squashed against the dog, which was licking Joe’s cheek.
    The farmer Frank had rescued looked to be about twenty and was tall and slim, with sandy blond hair and a pointed nose. “We have to makeit to the storm shelter beside my house!” the young farmer shouted as Phil stepped on the gas.
    Joe looked through the back windshield. They were gaining a little ground on the whirling menace, which Joe felt was following their every move.
    â€œGet ready to abandon ship!” Frank shouted, spotting the doors to the underground storm shelter.
    As Phil brought the truck to a halt, they flung open the doors and made a run for the shelter. Joe grabbed the dog. The wind whipped the dust at such high speeds, it felt like hundreds of pins pricking Joe in the face.
    Frank helped the farmer open the shelter door, beneath which was a set of stairs leading down fifteen feet to a storage area.
    â€œHere, Joe!” Frank shouted, guiding his brother and the dog to the entrance and down the steps.
    Once they were down, the farmer slammed and locked the door behind them. Immediately, the door shuddered from the impact of the tornado, which seemed to be passing Within a few feet of them.
    Frank and the young farmer held fast to the inside handles of the shelter door, pulling with all their might against the powerful updraft threatening to tear the door off its hinges.
    The next twenty seconds lasted forever, Frank thought. Then the roar died to a low din, and thedoor stopped shaking. The farmer lit a lantern, revealing a room filled with canned foods and emergency supplies. Phil coughed up dust. Joe could barely open his eyes, they were so caked with dirt. The dog sneezed.
    â€œBless you, Bullet,” the farmer said to his dog. He turned to Frank, Joe, and Phil. “I’m Snowdon Parlette. I don’t know who you guys are, but me and my dog thank you.”
    â€œI’m Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe,” Frank said, looking for a clean part of his sleeve to wipe his face.
    â€œI’m Phil Cohen,” Phil said with a slight wheeze.
    â€œI’ve seen you in town,” Snowdon told Phil. “Hanging out with that storm-chaser guy.”
    Frank patted Bullet’s head “Maybe next time you’ll know to come when your master calls you.”
    â€œOh, he knows,” Snowdon said, rubbing his dog’s ear. “He just can’t hear too well anymore. Can’t see, neither. But his nose is just as keen as when he was a pup.”
    â€œLet’s talk more outside,” Joe suggested, starting up the steps.
    â€œI wouldn’t advise it,” Snowdon warned. Suddenly, the door began to shake as the roaring wind returned. Startled, Joe stumbled back down the stairs.
    â€œWe were in the center of the funnel,” Snowdon explained, once again gripping and tugging the door handle to keep the shelter sealed. Thehowling of the wind began to fade, and after another ten seconds, it was gone. “Now it’s passed,” Snowdon said.
    They waited another five minutes to be sure, then emerged from the shelter.
    Mr. Jansen’s red bus and the other Windstormer vehicles were all around, and the team had already begun to record data.
    Frank looked in every direction. The twister had vanished. “What happened to the tornado?” he asked Phil.
    â€œIt died out. Small