Falcon Claw, Nebraska near Crater Lake and Comet Creek.
The sleepy farming town of Falcon Claw was preparing for harvest season. Situated halfway between Lincoln and Norfolk, Falcon Claw was doing quite well for itself. Most of the old timers dreaded the expansion west from Omaha, fearing that it would lead to suburban sprawl and the destruction of important farmland.
They still had some time, or so they thought. This season had been harsh as the weather waffled between intense heat and frequent powerful storms. A record number of tornadoes had ravaged the area all summer. Some harvests boomed, while others wilted on the vine or in the fields. Falcon Claw had been fairly lucky up to this point.
The Falcon Claw Festival was barely three weeks away. It was more than a simple county fair. It was imperative that all of the local farmers bring their merchandise to the town square. They'd set up booths and hawk their wares.
Tourists from across the Midwest drove for hours on end, sometimes a couple of days to appear at every county fair and festival in Nebraska. Roughly thirty percent of the farmer's sales came from their displays of food, livestock, or machinery, and arts and crafts. Many homemade specialties were sold as well.
Today, an old red pick up truck pulls up next to the Lake's General Store, near the center of what passed for downtown Falcon Claw. Steve and Muriel Lake had married seven years ago. They'd ventured here from the truly rural and unpopulated areas of western Nebraska, in the hope of getting their only daughter a quality education.
Five year old Laura played happily in the front garden of the general store. The gravelly road crackled beneath the pick up's well worn tires, as it came to a stop. James and Marion Trent climbed out. They needed some more items to complete their latest harvest, and feed the remaining unsold livestock.
The Trents had been recently married, but unfortunately, Marion was unable to bear children. She'd taken the news from the doctor hard. James had already begun considering adoption, many beautiful children were homeless, parentless, or displaced from dysfunctional families.
James and Marion greeted their friends, the Lakes. Marion loved little Laura, and Muriel Lake didn't mind sharing their precocious daughter's attention with them, especially given how busy the Lakes had been this year.
"Hey Steve, how're things going?" James asked cordially. "Pretty good, Jim." Steve shook his hand heartily. "Since the end of spring, we've been going full tilt." Marion nodded. "That is good news, Steve." Muriel got up from her shelf stocking to join the others on the old wrap around porch, which encircled the general store.
Muriel and Marion hugged. "How's things back at the farm?" She asked as Marion shrugged. "We've been pulling our own." Jim agreed. "We hit a rough patch back in July, but the late August rains have helped. Can you believe that it's almost September?" Steve shook his head. "What can I get for you folks, today?"
Marion handed Muriel a list of smaller items that they were interested in, as Jim put on his canvas gloves. "I'll need to get nearly a pallet of feed, the animals are eating like there's no tomorrow. You might as well throw in a few bags of fertilizer."
"You got it, Jim." Steve grabbed the keys to the storage area beside their building. "The fertilizer just came in this week, that's about as fresh as it gets in these parts." Jim nodded. "That sounds like a plan."
Laura had bounded up the steps when she'd seen the pick up and recognized the Trents. The little girl had her raven black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. "Mr.and Mrs.Trent!" The excited girl said, remembering to be polite. Marion hugged Laura.
"My gosh Laura, you're getting so big!" She commented. Muriel smiled proudly as she headed back into the store. "Yeah! And i'm working now, too!" Laura boasted. "Really?" Marion was impressed.
Laura took the twenty something Mrs.Trent by the hand. "Sure, i'm in charge of the garden at the back of the yard." The little girl was quite pleased with herself. "C'mon, i'll show you." She urged.
Muriel called out the open window. "Now Laura, Mr. and Mrs. Trent are very busy." Marion looked up at the storeowner's wife. "Nonsense! I always have time for the little angel!" She said. "Angel, Eh?" Steve chuckled. "Okay, but don't be long. The weather's about to turn for the worse." He warned.
"We won't." Laura promised. She guided Marion through the white pickett fence gate, and out into the vast yard. "I have to water, and fer...fertilize..." The child struggled with the unfamiliar word. "Take care of all the flowers and vegetables for Mama and Poppa."
Sure enough, flowers as tall as the fence and good-sized tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers decorated the entire rear third of the property. "Very good, Laura." Marion praised as the first rolls of thunder echoed in the distance. Laura smiled appreciatively.
Her father and Jim were at the feed and fertilizer display just to the side rear of the store's entrance. "We'll need 17 bags of feed and at least three of fertilizer, Steve. I'll go and get the truck." James said as he left. Steve grabbed a manually operated lift truck.
It clattered across the pebbled driveway. After James was out of sight, two grizzled young men silently approached the store, after parking their dark sedan in a nearby alley. One, who had a three inch scar across his cheek, motioned towards the display.
They split up, and the taller of the two followed the wall nearest to Steve, who had been left alone, out of the view of the store windows. He spotted the potential customer heading for him.
"How can i help you?" Steve asked innocently. Without a word, the younger man pulled a small caliber revolver, equipped with a silencer, from his thigh high black trenchcoat pocket. The assailant fired two shots at Steve, who never had a chance.
The first shot pierced the pleasant storeowner's chest near his heart, the second impacted his head, killing him instantly. He fell to the dusty ground and lay in a pool of blood. The murderer turned without a thought, to retrieve the getaway car.
James was already backing the pick up truck toward the display, when he noticed something reddish on the white and gray rocky path. A fierce wind rippled through the town, heralding the approaching storm. The chimes above the store door tinkled.
Meanwhile, the second man was already inside. He spotted Muriel Lake getting a bag of groceries ready. Like a wraith, he silently closed in on her. "Hello sir, may i help...?"
The unfortunate woman never finished her question. Two basically silent shots tore through the dank air, killing her in the same manner as her husband.
The gloved shooter went over to the cash register and popped it open, using a nearby crobar, which had been hung on a display. He quickly filled his pockets with money, and then bent down behind the counter, raiding an unlocked safe.
Noiselessly, he turned on his heel and walked right out the front door. The murderer's accomplice pulled up to the opposite side of the wrap around porch in the getaway car.
The robber carried three canvas bags as he got into the car, and peeled out, heading for the main highway. This all took less than five minutes. Later, it was determined that the thieves were likely hitmen, or gangbangers looking for a fast buck.
The skies continued to darken, lightning crackled, and the swirling winds created dust devils as the storm drew near. Marion and Laura were way at the end of the property. The elder woman became suspicious as she glanced back at the store.
She hadn't seen Muriel puttering around the store in the last few minutes. When the rolling thunder distracted her, Marion looked to the skies, which had become a sickly green.
The pitch black clouds roiled, separating from the miles tall wall cloud at the rear edge of the thunderstorm. Marion had grown up in tornado country, and knew the signs all too well.
She hurriedly grabbed the child by the hand, guiding her towards the store. Opposite them was the storm cellar, near the feed display. "Laurie, we need to go in. It's about to storm."
James came rushing into the yard. He placed himself between Laura, his wife, and the shop. Marion noted that Jim's complexion had turned a ghastly white. By now, he'd thoroughly checked to see if Steve and Muriel were alive, to no avail.
The attackers spent a moment trashing the phone lines, the storm had done the rest. No one had cell phones yet. "Uh...honey... maybe we should take Laura with us for a while." Jim said nervously. Marion gulped. Something had gone terribly wrong.
Jim's ashen face reflected the greenish hue of the turbulent skies. "Okay, dear." She managed to put on a stoic face. James hurried them along, glancing in the general direction of the store. For all he knew, the killer or killers, were lying in wait for them.
The storm rumbled closer, and as if on cue, a grayish black funnel lowered from the spinning black hook cloud. They'd run out of time as the storm dictated their next action. James grabbed Laura's hand and virtually yanked the child off the ground.
Jim chanced that the gunmen were gone as they scurried toward the family pick up, forgetting about their supplies. The assailants could have easily picked them off.
They sprinted up the gravelly drive. "Let's go sweetie, the weather's turning bad." Marion urged the frightened girl. "Who will tell Mommy and Daddy?" Laura asked worriedly. She was far too smart for her own good. James dragged them out the pickett gate.
"Honey, Mama and Daddy had to go away for a while." Jim, choked out. Marion knew what that meant. She held back the tears and put on a brave face for the little girl.
"You can come and stay with us." James offered. "After the storm, we can have some cookies and pop at our house." Marion added. "Now, let's go!" James reached the pick up first, and lifted Laura into the passenger seat. Marion piled in after her, as they sped off.
The storm came in much sooner than they expected. Rain fell in sheets and flew sideways, along with some good-sized hail. As if things weren't bad enough, the thunderstorm produced a full fledged twister.
The pale green and yellow skies provided the backdrop, framing the black tornado, as it snaked its way through central Nebraska. It flattened farms, uprooted trees, and tossed farm equipment around like they were children's toys.
The Trents and Laura clipped along the highway, staying parallel to the tornado. Marion could barely contain her emotions. Something awful had happened to their friends, and they probably couldn't have prevented the tragedy.
There was nothing they could do now except take care of Laura. A telephone pole snapped in half, falling on the road ahead of them. James skidded off the highway and onto the shoulder. He'd barely avoided hitting a quarter of a grain silo roof.
Laura pointed off to the left. "Why is that boy out there all alone?" James followed her gaze, and sure enough a boy about Laura’s age sat alongside the ditch apparently unaware of the impending danger. There were no vehicles nearby, and the Trents didn’t have time for a thorough search.
The twister snaked towards the highway. What on Earth was he doing here? Marion wondered silently. James had stopped the truck just past the boy. He hurriedly got out and glanced around. There was precious little time to debate a course of action. James made a snap decision.
He slowly approached the boy as the tornado roared in the distance, churning up the formerly pristine farmland. James didn’t want to scare the child away. In the dense wind whipped wheat stalks, he’d never find him again. "Hey buddy!" Jim said, raising his voice above the din.
"Do you know where your parents are?" He asked, bending down near the boy. The child stared at him blankly. Maybe the boy was in shock, disabled, or didn’t speak the language, Jim mused. He examined the child closely, he appeared to be uninjured.
His clothes were sopping wet, and he was covered from head to toe in what looked like a grainy, yellow, soot. Jim was out of time, a second twister was beginning to form behind the first. He reached down and picked the child up. Fortunately, the boy didn’t squirm or resist.
The child pointed away from them. "Tractor." He muttered. James turned his head, watching a green and yellow farm tractor spiraling towards them. The tornado had gotten too close. "Oh no!" Jim yelled as the machine flipped end over end aiming right for the family vehicle.
"Move the truck!" James yelled as he spun away from the out of control tractor. "Truck!" The boy mimicked. Marion wasn’t fast enough to get her and Laura out of the way. By sheer luck, the vehicle careened once beyond them, merely glancing off the pick up truck bed.
Still, the impact was enough to knock their truck forwards into the ditch. Laura screamed as Marion desperately tried to hit reverse. The front tires spun in the muck. The tractor had finally come to rest against a boulder at the edge of a property. It began to leak gasoline.
The second twister had reached the ground, and it tore across the highway behind them, bearing straight for downtown Falcon Claw. James ran to the pick up, boy in his arms, and popped open the passenger door. Marion stayed behind the steering wheel, gunning its powerful engine.
They only had moments before the fallen tractor would explode. The pick up was still too close to it. Mr. Trent pushed the front of the truck backwards, rocking it in place. Finally, the rear wheels caught, and with a lurch, Marion had sent the truck back onto the highway, skidding to a stop.
Miraculously, Jim clambered back into the cab, slamming the door as Marion slid over to the passenger’s side, buckling Laura and the boy in. The yellow slime dripped off the boy onto Laura, and she fidgeted. James fish-tailed the truck as the tractor burst into an inferno.
They sped towards the Trent Farm, reaching it in short order, and immediately took the kids down into the storm cellar. The twisters had missed their buildings entirely, but Falcon Claw wasn’t so lucky. The second tornado annihilated the Lake’s General Store, thereby destroying all evidence of the crimes.
The heinous murders remain unsolved to this day, with no hard evidence, no witnesses, and no clue as to who the perpetrators were. James and Marion took in Laura until a relative could be found. They tried in vain to locate the boy’s parents. No one claimed him, and there were no records of that specific child in the area. Even the country’s database couldn’t find his parents.
DNA tests were done, but no match was ever found. Some scientists were puzzled at the DNA map of the child. There seemed to have been a number of anomalies in his system, yet no one followed up on his case. After a lengthy arduous process, the Trents adopted the lost boy.
They named him Michael Angelo Trent, after Marion’s maiden name, Michols. Little Laura had a relative named Wanda Jenkins, her aunt, who lived in Metropolis, Kansas. Wanda was the youngest sibling of Laura’s mother, Muriel. At the age of twenty three, Wanda bravely decided to raise Laura.
She sacrificed her hardware business, to move to Falcon Claw and start anew. Wanda raised Laura as best she could, frequently turning to the Trents for help and advice. The orphaned children grew to be good friends.