+ceilingworkseverytime has made his presence known
There was one thing that she hated about travelling through the Midwest in summer. Well, there were many, but her particular nemesis, aside from when the rain pounded and the heat threatened to melt her into her seat, was that moment when the radio shrieked, the music stopped, and tornado warnings started broadcasting. At the first whine of the emergency broadcast, she'd put the pedal down and driven to the nearest building.
On arrival, she'd jumped out of the Jeep and ran to the doors of the storm cellar with a small bag of essentials (flashlight, food, blanket, water bottles, salt), a battery radio, and a sawed off shot gun, loaded with salt rounds. Even if the place wasn't haunted, the salt rounds would sting mightily if any human or monster decided to cross her.
She pulled open the hatch to the shelter, running down the stairs and ditching her bag before scrambling up to close it down. She was about to slide the pin that would hold the door shut into place when she heard the sound of an engine nearby. She couldn't very well trap anyone out in the storm. Taking a breath, she forced herself away from the door and down into the cellar, were she turned on the radio and pulled out her flashlight. She wasn't leaving this hole until the storm was past or over.
