Storm Born Read Online Free Page B

looked through all those photos, would I see my family’s smiling faces with the ominous words “MISSING” stamped over their heads? Would I see my face? If I’d woken up this far from home, who was to say that my parents hadn’t? That James hadn’t gotten lost, too?  
    Just because the Centennial was over and the skies ahead were clear, didn’t mean that the dangers had passed.  
    I steeled myself and kept marching. I told myself that my family wasn’t on those boards. They’d made it into the basement and probably wouldn’t have been able to get out yet.  
    Oh, God, I hoped Dad remembered to punch the panic button for the SPU. I knew they had enough food and supplies to last them for three months, but I didn’t want them to be trapped underground for so long.  
    When we learned about the Centennial, the government made it mandatory that every building have an accessible storm shelter. They worked with the SPU to have emergency alarms installed. Once the panic button was pressed, it would send a satellite signal to the nearest emergency or SPU station. Unfortunately, since millions of people would be pressing those buttons and the number of volunteers and civil workers was so small, a waiting list was formed. The date and time the panic buttons were pressed was recorded underground with the wealthy and the Lottery winners. Whoever pressed the button first would be helped first. Rescue workers then had to go down the list. It would take days, weeks, possibly months before everyone was rescued from their basements and shelters. For those who had faulty wiring with their panic buttons would wait the longest, until the largest, final search begun and the state could be searched grid by grid.  
    Dad was an electrician, so I wasn’t worried about the wiring. Mom was a nurse, so she would know what to do about waste and would ensure that James would have enough inhalers. But how long would it take for them to be rescued? I didn’t know if Mom pressed the panic button when she took James into the basement, or if Dad had done it when I told him to go inside.  
    Did they think I was dead? Were they okay? Had the floorboards been able to support the weight of the water rushing into the house? What if–  
    “Ava!”  
    I jumped near out of my skin when I heard my name. I spun around and looked at the truck cruising down the highway. I had been so lost in thought that I hadn’t even heard the damn thing.  
    I shuffled to the side of the road and peered in the back of the truck, which was packed with survivors. A slim brown hand waved desperately at me from the back.  
    Tears pricked my eyes when I saw my best friend, Piper.  
    She shouted for the driver to stop. When he did, she leaped out of the back and ran for me. We collided, and the tears spilled over.  
    “Oh my God,” my voice shook as I crushed her into a hug. “Thank God you’re okay!”  
    “You too,” she cried.  
    She sniffled against my shoulder before pulling back and looking at me.  
    Piper was gorgeous. No, gorgeous is the wrong word. Ethereal is better. Even soaked and dirty like I was, she looked like a goddess with flawless, bronze skin, velvet black hair, big sepia eyes, a wide smile, perfect body, and mile long legs. Piper had three different modeling contracts and was working on becoming a spokeswoman for a new make-up brand. She was as wealthy as she was beautiful, living with her investor parents in one of the million dollar houses on Ocean Boulevard. She had academic, volunteer, and basketball scholarships that would pay for almost all of her tuition to the University of Florida. Piper was the kind of girl that made pale, skinny redheads like me feel self-conscious and insecure.  
    Instead, I loved Piper. She was the sister I never had, and she never made me feel bad about myself.  
    “I didn’t even know you were in West Palm,” she said.  
    “I wasn’t,” I blurted.  
    Piper’s eyes widened. Did she look nervous?