The late afternoon sun beat down on Joplin High, turning the parking lot into a shimmering mirage. May 24th, 2011. Graduation was just around the corner, a week and a half away. Excitement, thick and buzzing, hung in the air, almost palpable. Mylon Jenkins, a kid obsessed with the sky, particularly when it threatened to tear itself apart, leaned against his beat-up Ford pickup, a weather radio crackling softly inside.
He was a paradox, Mylon. He'd been born four years after his father, Michael Jenkins, was cremated – a whisper of a life cut short, a ghost of a man Mylon would never know. His mom, Sarah, always said Michael was a good man, a hard worker, but gone too soon. Mylon carried the weight of that absence, a shadow that seemed to fuel his fascination with the unpredictable, chaotic power of storms. He loved them, chasing them with a reckless abandon that both terrified and exhilarated him.
Now, a tornado watch was in effect. Another one. Joplin was used to them. It was practically a bi-annual event. The school, like clockwork, initiated the drill.
The loudspeaker squawked, the principal's voice a monotone drone: "Attention students and staff, this is a tornado drill. Please proceed to your designated safe areas immediately…"
Mylon sighed. Another wasted afternoon. He knew the drill. He knew where the so-called safe spots were – interior hallways, away from windows. He knew it was all a performance, a theatrical production meant to soothe anxieties, a flimsy shield against the raw, untamed force of nature he so admired.
He watched as his classmates shuffled past, a mixture of boredom and nervous anticipation etched on their faces. He spotted Bobby, his best friend since kindergarten, a lanky kid with perpetually messy hair and a goofy grin.
"You heading to the hallway, Mylon?" Bobby asked, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses.
"Nah," Mylon said, tilting his head towards the sky. "I'm gonna keep an eye on things. This one feels different."
Bobby frowned. "Different how? You're not thinking of going after it, are you? Graduation's almost here, man. Don't be stupid."
Mylon shrugged, a nervous energy coursing through him. "Just a feeling. Wanna come with?"
Bobby hesitated. He knew Mylon was serious, that this wasn't just some teenage daredevil stunt. He also knew that arguing was pointless. Mylon had a way of drawing people into his orbit, a magnetic pull fueled by his unwavering conviction.
"Fine," Bobby relented. "But if things get hairy, we're turning back. Deal?"
Mylon grinned. "Deal."
They climbed into the truck, the weather radio spitting out warnings and advisories. The sky was a bruised purple, the air thick with humidity. A strange quiet had fallen over the town, an eerie silence that preceded the storm.
"See Leo around?" Mylon asked, referring to his cousin. Leo was a year older, already working construction, but he'd always been close to Mylon, a reluctant accomplice in his storm chasing escapades.
Bobby scanned the parking lot. "Nah, haven't seen him. Probably already at work."
Mylon nodded, starting the engine. They drove west, away from the school, away from the designated safe zones, towards the ominous darkness gathering on the horizon.
The storm intensified rapidly. The wind picked up, whipping the trees into a frenzy. Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the already distorted landscape. They could see the beginnings of a funnel cloud forming in the distance, a dark, swirling vortex reaching down from the heavens.
"Okay, Mylon," Bobby said, his voice trembling slightly. "This is getting serious. We need to turn back."
Mylon gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the approaching tornado. He was mesmerized, transfixed by its raw power and chaotic beauty. He felt no fear, only a sense of awe and respect.
"Just a little closer," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I just want to see it up close."
The tornado touched down, carving a path of destruction through the landscape. Houses splintered and collapsed, trees were uprooted and tossed aside like matchsticks. The air was filled with debris – twisted metal, shattered glass, and shredded wood.
Mylon, caught up in the moment, failed to see the danger until it was too late. The tornado shifted direction, bearing down on them with terrifying speed.
"Mylon! Turn around!" Bobby screamed, his voice lost in the roar of the wind.
Mylon slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The tornado engulfed them, lifting the truck off the ground and tossing it around like a toy. The world became a blur of wind, rain, and debris.
Then, everything went black.
…
Ten days later, the search for Mylon was coming to an end. Joplin was in ruins, a landscape of devastation and despair. The National Guard was sifting through the rubble, searching for survivors, recovering bodies.
Bobby, miraculously unharmed, had been found clinging to a piece of debris a few hours after the storm. He'd told the authorities about Mylon, about their chase, about the tornado. He was haunted by the image of Mylon, driven by his obsession, swallowed whole by the storm.
Leo, along with Sarah, had been searching relentlessly, driven by a desperate hope that clung to the faintest glimmer of possibility. They knew, deep down, that the chances of finding Mylon alive were slim. But they couldn't give up.
Finally, the call came.
They found him on Leawood Drive, a street ripped apart by the tornado. But it wasn't the Mylon they knew. It was a collection of fragments, a shattered remnant of a once-vibrant life.
His lower body was missing, severed by the force of the storm. His head was discovered some distance away, the skull fractured, the face mangled beyond recognition.
The coroner confirmed it through dental records. It was Mylon.
Bobby collapsed, his body wracked with sobs. Leo stood frozen, his face a mask of grief and disbelief. Sarah let out a scream that echoed through the ravaged streets, a primal cry of anguish that tore at the heart.
They had to have a closed casket. The damage was too extensive, too gruesome. There was nothing left to show, only the memory of the Mylon they loved.
…
The funeral was held on a somber, overcast day. The air hung heavy with grief. The community mourned the loss of a young life cut short, a life filled with potential, a life consumed by a passion that ultimately led to his demise.
Bobby stood beside Leo, his eyes red and swollen. He felt a crushing weight of guilt, a feeling that he could have done more, that he should have stopped Mylon. But he knew, deep down, that Mylon was unstoppable, driven by a force that transcended reason and logic.
Leo stared at the closed casket, his mind struggling to comprehend the reality of it all. Mylon was gone. The cousin he'd shared so many adventures with, the kid who looked at the world with such insatiable curiosity, was now just a memory.
Sarah stood before the mourners, her face etched with sorrow, her voice trembling as she spoke about her son.
"Mylon was a good boy," she said, her voice breaking. "He was smart, he was kind, and he had a passion for life. He loved the storms, he loved the sky, he loved the challenge. I tried to warn him, I tried to keep him safe, but he was always drawn to the danger. He wanted to understand it, to conquer it. But in the end, the storm took him."
She paused, wiping away tears. "I don't know why this happened. I don't know why God would take my son away from me. But I know that Mylon is at peace now. He's finally found the answers he was searching for. And I know that he'll never have to fear another tornado again."
The mourners wept, their hearts breaking for Sarah, for Mylon, for the community that had been ravaged by the storm.
The service ended, and the pallbearers carried the casket to the hearse. Bobby and Leo helped, their shoulders heavy with grief.
As the hearse drove away, Bobby looked up at the sky. The clouds were breaking apart, and a ray of sunlight pierced through, illuminating the devastated landscape. He could almost see Mylon there, chasing the storm, finally free.
He closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He knew that Mylon's memory would live on, a reminder of the unpredictable power of nature, and the enduring strength of the human spirit. But he also knew that Joplin would never be the same, forever scarred by the events of May 24th, 2011, the day the tornado took Mylon Jenkins, and a piece of their hearts, with it.