The wooden walls behind me creaked as the sound of the intense winds and heavy rain continued to pound against the exterior of the building. Hearing it, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh. The building was old, sure; as evidenced by the bucket catching a steady dribbling of water from the roof in the center of the open space, but that also meant it was sturdy. I remember growing up in a house from the same era as this place, in a storm like this a tree even came down on it- and yet the damage was surprisingly minimal.
My train of remembrance to a simpler time was caught off suddenly by the quiet ringing of a bell. Out of pure instinct I looked up at the door on the far side of the room. I was expecting the same thing I’d been familiarizing myself with for the past hour; the door coming slightly ajar from the strength of the wind and setting off the bell, but instead I actually saw someone.
“Ah, good… good. I didn’t quite know if you were open.” The person spoke.
He stood in the doorway for a few moments, shaking off an umbrella he kept in his hands. He looked around at the empty bar, setting the umbrella down and leaning it against the wall, before taking off his hat and shaking out some of the water that made it past his defenses. He stood for another moment, eerily still as the lights flickered a little.
“Well, yeah. That’s why the open sign is on.” I spoke, still leaning on the wooden countertop. “But come on in, get yourself warm.”
The man seemed to smile. He was only twenty or so feet away, but with how dimly lit the bar always was, it was hard to make out any details of his face. He nodded, and put his hat back on- a dark panama hat it seemed. Honestly, as he walked closer I couldn’t help but imagine what he did for a living. His attire consisted of the hat, a heavy trench coat, tight dress pants, and some perfectly clean dress shoes. In his entirety he looked like the stereotypical hollywood representation of a detective from the fifties.
“Yes, of course. But given the nature of… well, the nature outside- I wasn’t convinced. It’s nice to see you are open, though. A drink would be just fine.” His voice was deep, but not quite as rugged as I was expecting. He spoke with a sort of composure that I wasn’t used to.
Nevertheless, I nodded as he pulled up a seat across from me. He looked up at me and the first thing I noticed were his eyes. They were blue, but not the rich vibrant blue that you see on all those pretty boy celebrities- they were a more quiet, icy blue; almost gray, even.
“Naturally. What can I get ya?”
“Whiskey. Two fingers, please. Dealer’s choice.”
After he finished speaking the building creaked once more, and the deep rattle of a rather powerful gust of wind could be heard. I nodded again, and began looking through our, admittedly limited, selection of whiskeys.
“So.” He broke the silence. “Why is it you are open? Enlighten me.”
“Well, It’s an hour’s drive home for me. Highway’s already closed on account of the…” I held up a bottle of Masterson’s, a personal favorite, and motioned my hands around the room. Almost on cue, the lights flickered out for just a minute before coming back on. The man chuckled.
“Yeah. They say this storm is bound to be a bad one.”
“Yeah. So it seems. Anyways, since I can’t get home and don’t feel like paying for a dingy motel- figured I’d stay open for it all. Hoping to get a few folks out of the weather and into some shelter, or somethin. I don’t know. It feels good to be able to help… even if it’s just one person.”
I smiled at the man as I said the last line, pouring some of the Masterson’s into a glass. It’s weird. I had known this man for maybe two minutes, yet I felt like I could be honest around him. He chuckled again, looking at me as he scratched his chin for a moment. Getting a look at his full face I could see he was young, maybe in his late twenties, and that he was devilishly handsome. His jaw, his cheeks, his nose- he looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ Magazine. I slid him his glass, and turned to our till, as it was still booting up from the previous power flicker.
“Well, hey.” he started. “The overtime pay will be nice.”
“Unfortunately not. Boss said he ain’t gonna pay me past standard business hours.”
“Boo.”
“Yeah.”
“So let me get this straight. Worst hurricane Maine has seen in a few decades… and you’re out here working for free just so chumps like me can be kept safe.”
“I mean… yeah.”
“That’s awfully kind of ya.”
When he said that, I could see his eyes squint. He looked as if he was mulling over some words in his head, like he was examining me with every fiber of his brain. I shrugged in response. The till had booted up by this point, but I could see that our debit machine had gone into some weird admin mode.
“You got cash?” I asked.
“Sorry, no,”
I shrugged again, reaching into the tip jar in front of the till and pulling out a bill. I quickly rang it up and put the remaining change back in the tip jar. He watched closely as I did all of this, of course.
“Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
The two of us sat in silence for a few minutes, save for the sound of the bucket nearing its capacity, and the wind howling through whatever small gaps in the old lumber existed. He took the occasional sip of his drink, seemingly enjoying it, and I resumed leaning back against the wall behind me.
“Do you mind if I ask what you were doing out in this?” I don’t know why I asked it. I guess that feeling of honesty was stronger than I thought.
“Oh. I wouldn’t bother myself too much with that.”
“Well… that’s ominous. You gotta give me something- you know, as payment for me buying your drink.”
“Ah. And a good drink it is.” He set his glass down with a clink, and began rubbing his knuckles. “Some men are simply travelers, my friend. I’m one of that kind. I rarely know where I am or where I’ll be next- but I always know I’m where I’m meant to be.”
“Okay…” I started. “But what do you do?”
“Yes. Another good question.” He raised his glass to his lips once more, before setting it down empty. “It’s hard to explain, really, in all honesty I can’t. I’ll try, however.” He smiled as he spoke, and I couldn’t help but lean forward, resting my elbows on the bartop.
“You see, unfortunately the world we live in is a pretty grim one. Tornadoes, earthquakes… hurricanes.” He sort of chuckled as he spoke the last word. “And these things always seem to happen, no matter what humans try and do. Well, that’s what I do.”
“Oh!” I stood up as I connected the dots.
“You’re a storm chaser?”
The man laughed a deep, hearty laugh. “Yes, quite. I’m a storm chaser.”
“That’s exciting.”
“Is it now?”
“More exciting than a small town dive-bar.”
“Perhaps. But you, my friend, have something I never will.”
“And what’s that?”
His smile faded once more; and as it did the sounds of the storm outside quickly became louder and louder. The creaking of the building deepended, as the small steady dribbling of water into the bucket slowly became a small stream- the bucket quickly overflowing and starting to spill onto the floor. The door quickly flung open for a minute, allowing a large gust of air through the bar threatening to topple me over, yet he remained unphased. The door slammed shut again, the doorbell giving its familiar chime, as the man let out a sigh and shook his head.
“I chase storms, and that means that unfortunately, I never get to see a nice day.”
I hummed a bit, taking in his words as I walked over towards the mop. Another gust of wind, another jolt to black as the lights went out. It was only for a moment, but in that moment the man went from sitting to standing without making a noise. I jumped a little, as I saw him standing, and he looked down.
“I wouldn’t fret over the spilled water, honestly. If I were you I’d have a few drinks myself and prepare.”
“For what?”
“The storm is only going to get worse.”
“How do you know that?”
The man looked me up and down, before adjusting his hat a little bit. “It always does.”
I found myself pausing for a moment, looking at him. He gave me a little nod, before putting his hands into his pockets and walking towards the door.
“I appreciate the drink, my friend. May the next one be even better.”
He pushed through the door as he spoke, giving me a little two finger salute. I noticed his umbrella, still leaning against the wall, and jogged over to it to grab it. I was hoping I’d still be able to catch him.
I quickly opened the door and looked down the road- nothing. I looked the other way and there was a whole lot more of nothing. He was gone. The street was empty except for a few parked vehicles, and knocked over trash bins. Garbage was blowing down the road in the wind and a bike was screeching down the pavement being taken away by the storm itself.
Then, looking off into the distance I could see it. A deep black cloud, slowly creeping along the horizon towards us. Streaks of lightning blinked through it, and even as far as it was, I could see the wall of rain it brought with it- a torrent that would make the rain we’re getting now look like a garden sprinkler. As it neared I could see shingles starting to come off of roofs, paneling coming off of walls, windows shattering as objects got thrown into them. And yet, all I could think about was that man. Who was he? Where did he go? And as I pondered to myself, staring at the ever encroaching void, his words echoed through my brain.
“I’d have a few drinks, myself, and prepare. The storm is only going to get worse. It always does.”