The Day the Siren Stopped by Colette Cabot

away.  Electrical wires were down and crews labored to re-establish power lines.  Red Cross trucks were everywhere helping the sick and the stranded.  Even the National Guard had arrived with supplies and temporary shelters.  They had constructed a temporary bridge to reconnect the roads.  Yet, through it all, the sky was clear and brilliant, as if Mother Nature had thrown a tantrum, and it was all over.  Cars, trucks, and furniture lay in piles like toys tossed aside.
     
    Kathy Mae needed to rest and recuperate.  Mason needed to search for his truck.  He needed to deal with the insurance company and begin the process of having it replaced.  It didn't seem that any of this would be easy with all the businesses crippled in the aftermath of such destruction. 
     
    “Mason, it’s like the prairie came back,” Kathy smiled, kissing him good-bye as he set out to take care of business. 
     
    She had read something about how the prairie needs occasional tornadoes to make sure that the land stays arid.  They serve their purpose as a sudden release of energy.  Without tornadoes, the book had said, the whole earth would be engulfed in a constant monster storm.  The town would be rebuilt even better than before.  People would recover and be stronger than before.  It would be okay, she believed that.
     
    Mason walked toward the area that had once been the road to Kathy Mae's house, leaving her in good hands at the library shelter.  The road had been cleared, and he talked to some workmen that were out replacing telephone poles.  One of them had seen a white pickup truck several miles away perched upon the remains of a trailer home.  They could only hope that whoever had been inside had gotten out in time.
     
    Locating the truck, Mason saw immediately that it could not be driven.  It was totaled.  Judging from the indentation on the roof, it looked as if a good-sized tree had smashed into it at some point during its three-mile flight through the tornado.  He crawled over the remains of the trailer home and precariously reached inside to retrieve papers from the glove box.  His neat little packet containing the title and his insurance information had remained intact.  Although his cell phone was almost dead, he managed to get through on the 800 number and someone located in another city was able to file his claim.
     
    “We will send a representative to assess the damage, Mr. Wheelwright,” he said.  “But, that will just be a formality.  We've all heard the news, and I'm positive this will be a total loss.  We will be cutting you a check this afternoon, and you should be able to apply that toward the purchase of a vehicle of your choice.”
     
    “Well, how'm I going to get the check, since I can't drive anywhere to get it?” he asked.
     
    “I wasn't thinking, Mr. Wheelwright,” he said immediately.  “I can just transfer the amount to your account.  If you haven't changed banks, I still have the routing number.”
     
    “I left a trailer on the highway between here and Minnesota,” he said.  “It contains a herd of camels, and I need to get to it soon.  I don't think there's anywhere in this town I can either buy or rent a new truck.”
     
    Mason understood that the agent couldn't do much to help him under the circumstances.  The money would be in his account within hours, but he didn't know how he would be able to spend it.  The thought of thirsty, hungry camels preyed on his mind.  Sure, camels could last without water for days—but these camels never had.  They were going to be distressed and upset.  He didn't like that situation.  As he pondered this, a bright, shiny red super-cab pickup truck honked at him from the road.
     
    “Are you Mason Wheelwright, by any chance?” yelled the man from his rolled-down window.
     
    “I am,” he answered, walking toward the man.
     
    “Well, I'm glad to meet you, Sir,” he said.  “I am Phillip Buggerby, Kathy Mae's boss.  We ran