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is wrapped with heavy rains, it can hide a tornado from view until the funnel touches down. These supercells are also known for their tendency to produce more frequent cloud-to-ground and intracloud lightning than the other types of storms. The system weakened briefly overnight, following computer models of similar storms in this region. However, what we are seeing now is an unfortunate combination of elements that could result in a major upgrade of this weather pattern.”
    The professor gave a bunch more technical information that Jack was pretty sure no one really understood, and then the image cut back to the reporter with the plastic hair, who contrived to look grave and concerned. “This storm will produce flooding rains, high winds, downed trees—on houses, cars, power lines—and widespread power outages. Make sure you have plenty of candles and flashlights with fresh batteries because, folks, you’re going to need ’em.” He actually smiled when he said that.
    Jack suddenly shivered.
    Mom noticed it and wrapped her arm around his bonyshoulders. “Hey, now . . . don’t worry. We’ll be safe here.”
    He made an agreeing noise but did not bother to correct her. He wasn’t frightened of the storm’s power. He was hoping it would become one of those Category 5 things like they showed on Syfy. Or a bigger one. Big enough to tear the house to sticks and let the waters of the river sweep him away from pain and sickness. Being killed in a super storm was so delightful that it made him shiver and raised goose bumps all along his arms. Lasting through the rain and wind so that he was back to where—and what—he was . . . that was far more frightening. Being suddenly dead was better than dying.
    On the other hand . . .
    â€œWhat about Jill?”
    â€œShe’ll be fine,” said Mom, though her tone was less than convincing.
    â€œMom . . . ?”
    Mom was a thin, pretty woman whose black hair had started going gray around the time of the first diagnosis. Now it was more gray than black, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Jill looked a little like Mom and would probably grow up to look a lot like her. Jack looked like her too, right down to the dark circles under the eyes that looked out at him every morning from the bathroom mirror.
    â€œMom,” Jack said tentatively, “Jill is going to be all right, isn’t she?”
    â€œShe’s in school. If it gets bad, they’ll bus the kids home.”
    â€œShouldn’t someone go get her?”
    Mom looked at the open bedroom door. “Your dad and Uncle Roger are in town, buying the pipes for the new irrigation system. They’ll see how bad it is, and if they have to, they’ll get her.”She smiled, and Jack thought that it was every bit as false as the smile he’d given her a minute ago. “Jill will be fine. Don’t stress yourself out about it. You know it’s not good for you.”
    â€œOkay,” he said, resisting the urge to shake his head. He loved his mom, but she really didn’t understand him at all.
    â€œYou should get some rest,” she said. “After you finish your muffin, why not take a little nap?”
    Jeez-us, he thought. She was always saying stuff like that. Take a nap, get some rest. I’m going to be dead for a long time. Let me be awake as much as I can for now.
    â€œSure,” he said. “Maybe in a bit.”
    Mom smiled brightly, as if they had sealed a deal. She kissed him on the head and went out of his room, closing the door three-quarters of the way. She never closed it all the way, so Jack got up and did that for himself.
    Jack nibbled another micro-bite of the muffin, sighed, and set it down. He broke it up on the plate so it looked like he’d really savaged it. Then he drank the vitamin water, set the glass down, and stretched out on his stomach to watch the