Jessica fanned herself with a handful of paperwork.  The humid air permeated the office of the Savings and Loan, and caused her hair to both frizz and go limp at the same time. She wondered why she even bothered with the flat iron and gel routine each morning.  If her hair was going to end up looking like a run-over copper scouring pad, she should pull the unruly mass into an auburn ponytail and be done with it.  Then she could sleep in for an extra hour.
        Unfortunately, that would earn a reprimand from her supervisor.  Miss Burns, from “back east,” was a stickler about presenting a professional appearance.  Her dress-for-success code included the wearing of a blazer, skirt, and hosiery, even on sweltering July afternoons.  Jessica was sure she was about to have heat stroke.  She longed to remove the linen jacket she had on over her aqua, sleeveless blouse.  The digital sign in the parking lot flashed 104 degrees at 2:30 in the afternoon.  Storm clouds were building on the horizon, their white cottony tops towering high into the atmosphere.  Jessica hoped that a good rain would break the heat and humidity that had been hanging around the region for weeks.
    
The papers in her hand were now limp too and no longer generating a breeze.  Jessica thought she had better file them before anyone noticed their crumpled state.  They were for an account Miss Burns had been working on, and she would not be happy about their now less-than-pristine condition.  Jessica fished her discarded heels out from under the teller’s counter with her toes, slipped them on and headed for the file room.  Once inside, she slid out of her jacket and stood in front of the oscillating fan positioned in the corner.  She lifted her arms and turned in circles to let the air blow over every part of her, while she absently looked over the paperwork.
    
The report was about a land sale west of town.  Jessica knew it was for the Hollister place.  The Hollisters were private people and it wasn’t generally known that they were thinking of selling. But Jessica’s cousin, Ruby, worked in the County Surveyor’s Office with Judd Hollister’s sister-in-law.  She had told Ruby that the family had received an offer from some investors in California.  It was a good deal and they were going to sell, until Ruby came across some papers showing that the proposed buyers were interested in the mineral rights to the property.  That got the Hollisters to thinking that the land was worth way more than they’d originally thought, and they rejected the offer.
    
So why was there money in an account showing that the sale had taken place?  The hairs on Jessica’s arms stood up.  Not a good sign.  The last time that happened was when she had agreed to go out with Bobby Ray McKinney.  That ended with her walking home, and Bobby Ray spreading a rumor about her being easy.  She should have known better than to go on a date with a guy whose middle name was Ray.  They always ended up being jerks, or featured on America’s Most Wanted as serial killers.
        Jessica rubbed her arms.  Maybe Ruby had misunderstood, or there was more paperwork explaining what was going on.  She pulled open the appropriate drawer of the filing cabinet and fingered through the hanging folders.  Before she could locate anything, a thunderous boom shook the building.  Jessica gave a startled yelp and jumped back, stumbling into Miss Burns.  “Eek!” she shrieked.
        “What are you doing in here?” Miss Burns asked in an imperious, threatening tone.
        “Filing?” Jessica tentatively offered.  She was still startled by the fact that she hadn’t even heard Miss Burns enter the room.
        “Put on your jacket and get back to your window, please.  You have customers waiting!”  Miss Burns snatched the papers out of Jessica’s hand and used them to point the way out.
        Jessica picked up her blazer.  It was crumpled and full of wrinkles.  With reluctance, she put it on, but would have rather tossed it onto the highest branch of the tree in the parking lot.  Let it be “dressed for success.”  Behind her, Miss Burns gave a disgusted snort.
    
By 3:30 p.m., the lightning was flashing like paparazzi snapping photos of Paris Hilton.  Rain pelted the roof of the building.  It was coming down so hard that water was seeping under the door.  Unfortunately, the deluge did little to alleviate the heat index.  Jessica’s suit now clung to her like a second skin.  She daubed at her temples with a wilted tissue.
        Hazarding a glance towards Miss Burns’ desk, Jessica was once again convinced that the woman must have had her sweat glands removed.  Her platinum bob was smoothly in place, and not a bead of perspiration shone on her carefully applied makeup.  For the past hour she had been furiously tapping away on her computer.  Anytime someone would stop by her desk, Miss Burns would quickly hit the “Wallpaper” key to obscure her monitor.
        Jessica wondered what the woman was hiding.  Not that it was any of her business.  This was a bank after all, and some things were confidential.  But Jessica’s arm hairs were standing on end again, telling her that things weren’t right.
   
Miss Burns looked up from her computer screen, pushed her tortoise shell glasses down her nose and locked eyes with Jessica.  Flustered, Jessica busied herself by rearranging the free pens in the happy face mug on top of her counter.  The rain let up a bit and the two remaining customers used the opportunity to make a mad dash for their cars. 
        Miss Burns turned off her computer and rose from her desk.  She went to the plate glass window in front of the office and studied the sky.  Jessica and another teller, Lea Anne, joined her.
        The clouds had turned an ominous pea green.  Jessica had lived in Kansas all her life; she knew what that coloration meant—danger.
        “Attention everyone!” Miss Burns said, immediately assuming command.  “As you know, Mr. Sanders, the bank manager, is on vacation this week and he left me in charge.  The storm is getting worse, so I think that those of you who live in outlying areas should head for home.  Keep your car radios tuned to the weather station and drive carefully.  Jessica and I will stay behind and close up.”
    
Jessica wasn’t thrilled at being volunteered to stay behind. The truth was that she hated severe storms. They made her a nervous wreck.  She didn’t think Miss Burns understood the necessity of getting everyone to safety.  Now the hairs on her head were standing on end, joining their cousins on her arms. The Savings and Loan was not equipped with a storm shelter.  The tiny white clapboard house she rented had one in the back yard.  If she were home now, she’d be huddled in the corner of it, even though the thing gave her claustrophobia.
    
There was a flurry of activity as the staff filed papers, counted out cash drawers then ran
out the door, hugging their purses or brief cases against their chests.  Even Chet, the aged security guard, grabbed his cane and hobbled as fast as he could to the parking lot.
        Jessica turned the portable radio to the weather station and listened while she balanced out her till.  Tiny balls of hail plinked against the glass, bouncing off the remaining cars out front.  Miss Burns stuffed some papers into her attaché case

 then made a trip to the filing room.  Jessica finished counting and shut down her terminal.  She needed Miss Burns to sign off on her reports before they could put the money in the safe and leave.
    
She had taken only a few steps when the tornado warning blared, advising people in their county and the two surrounding ones to immediately seek shelter.  Jessica shivered, not only from fear of a twister, but from the temperature, which had suddenly dropped several degrees. The hail now crashed down in marble-sized balls.
    
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Jessica grabbed the reports and money drawer and rushed toward Miss Burns.  She could sign them in the file room and they could go to the vault together.
        As Jessica came around the corner, she saw Miss Burns standing in the hallway.  She was holding a tiny pistol in her well-manicured hand.  Her mouth was moving but Jessica couldn’t hear what she was saying over the pounding hail.
        “What?” Jessica shouted. She was sure she had wet her pants.  Why on earth would the woman point a gun at her?
        “I said, put the money down and keep your hands where I can see them!”
        “Miss Burns, what is going on?  We have to get out of here!  There’s a tornado on the way!”
        “Don’t play stupid!” Miss Burns said.  Her mouth twisted with menace.  “I know you saw the Hollister file and the amount I transferred into it from one of my previous ‘deals’.  I only needed a few more days for my associates to redirect the funds for me.  No one would have ever known, but you had to go snooping.  Did you think I’d cut you in for a piece?  Hmm?  Well, think again, because I’m not going to let some small town hick blackmail me!.”
        “Hey lady,” Jessica said.  “I’m not trying to blackmail anyone, and watch who you are calling a hick.  I graduated from community college!”
        “Oh, for God’s sake, just shut up and move toward the vault.”
    
Jessica didn’t think her legs would cooperate.  Her knees felt rubbery like Jell-o®, but she complied and turned in the direction of the vault.  It was located in the room adjacent to the manager’s office, and was large enough for one, maybe two people, if they were slim enough.  Behind her, Jessica heard the sound of breaking glass, and the storm siren wailing from atop the courthouse.
        Miss Burns worked the combination to the safe with her left hand while keeping the pistol leveled on Jessica with her right. She yanked open the heavy steel door.
        “Get your frumpy ass inside.  I don’t want to add murder to embezzlement, so don’t try anything.  I’m going to need you locked up while I blow this dot on the map.”
        “No,” Jessica declared.  “I’m not going in there.  I’ll suffocate before someone finds me! Then you’ll be a murderer anyways.”
    
Jessica was frantic.  She didn’t want to get anywhere near that vault.  But the alternatives—getting shot, or killed by a tornado—weren’t that appealing either.  She could no longer hear the siren.  What she did hear was a foreboding chugging noise, like a runaway train.  It was getting louder by the second.
        Suddenly the air pressure in the building changed.  Her ears popped and rang.  Windows shattered.  The walls shuddered and the ceiling moaned.  Miss Burns glanced around and uttered a curse.
    
Jessica knew that the only thing that could save them now was the vault.  She dove for the opening and tried to pull Miss Burns in with her.  But the woman jerked free of Jessica’s grasp.
        She could hear bricks crumbling, the inner walls give way, and disintegrating pieces being sucked up and out through what had been the roof.  Jessica tried to pull the vault’s door shut but the suction was too great.  She scooted to the back, behind heavy canvas bags filled with coins.  Relieved that the armored car wasn’t scheduled to pick them up until tomorrow morning, she wrapped her arms and legs around their weight and held on as the tornado passed overhead.
        The vacuum and wind tried to draw her forward; objects flew past her field of vision.  Something heavy and square hit her in the forehead.  The noise faded from her ears and all she could see was a faint tunnel of light before her eyes.  Oh God, I’m about to die…
    
“We have a live one!” she heard someone shout.  Soon a black dog was sniffing her head, and a man in coveralls was beside her.  He looked down at her, his face smudged with dirt, and made a sign of the cross.  Then he started pulling the rubble away from her.
        “Are you okay, ma’am?  Can you move your limbs?  Are you having trouble breathing?”
        Jessica tried to move her legs, but there was too much debris on top of them.  She could wiggle her toes, though, and took that as a good sign.  As for breathing, she found that difficult, so she shook her head and hoped the man understood what she meant.
       
Within minutes, other rescue personnel were surrounding her.  They carefully lifted her from the wreckage of the safe and placed her on a stretcher.  Dazed, her eyes moved back and forth trying to absorb the extent of the destruction around her.  Nothing was left of anything.  The bank was a skeleton of twisted metal and broken glass.  Outside, most of the trees had been uprooted and the few that remained looked like poles.
        Jessica winced in pain as she moved her hand to touch the arm of a woman carrying one end of the stretcher.  The woman bent over to listen.  “Did you find Miss Burns?” Jessica whispered. “She was right next to me, near the safe.  She has blond hair.”
        “No.  We didn’t find anyone else, alive or dead.  Just a matted blond wig and you in that pile.  Good thing you got to the back of the vault.  From what we can tell, its concrete lining saved your life.”
        “Yeah, good thing,” Jessica replied numbly.  As she was lifted into an ambulance, something fluttering in a nearby tree caught her eye.  In the leaf-stripped branches, the tattered remains of her blazer waved like a flag in the breeze.  A smile played across her lips.  At least it was finally where it belonged. 
 
 
                         About The Author
  
        Aleta Hallemeier in her own words: “I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico with my husband John and our two cats.  During daylight hours, I work at the local natural history museum as a child wrangler and peddler of plastic dinosaurs.  Under the cover of darkness, I pull out the pen and ink to create my characters. Writing helps me to see the humor in life and, hopefully, I can pass a smile along to others through my stories.
        “I feel very privileged to be published in Calliope’s pages.  The experience has not only encouraged me to write more, but to try my hand at something else I never thought I would be able to do—play the piano!”
    
    
                                  Copyright © Aleta Hallemeier