The Type-A Guide to Natural Disasters (A Sunset Ridge Cozy Mystery, #3)

Thunder cracked overhead as Arlo launched himself through the blue tunnel. His small body was a blur of determination despite legs that seemed too short for agility work. The sky had turned an unnatural yellowish-green in the last ten minutes, casting an eerie light over the training field.

"Go, Arlo, go!" Sam Prescott called, her voice nearly lost in the sudden gust that sent the course flags snapping violently. The wind whipped her dark hair across her face as she ran alongside the course, signaling the next obstacle.

Arlo, who was an improbable mix of basset hound and cavalier King Charles spaniel, navigated the weave poles with surprising grace, his soulful eyes locked on Sam's every movement despite the chaos around them.

"Look at him go!" Lucy shouted from the sidelines, her own whippet Ziggy pressing anxiously against her legs. "He's getting faster every week."

But as Arlo cleared the final jump, another thunderclap boomed directly overhead, drowning out the cheers from the remaining club members. Equipment rattled ominously across the field.

Dave jogged over, his border collie Rocket already herding the smaller dogs toward the parking area. "That's it, folks. The storm's moving in faster than predicted." He glanced at the menacing sky. "Where did this come from? It wasn't supposed to hit until tonight."

The dogs seemed to have picked up on the storm faster than the humans had. They'd pinned their ears back and turned their faces toward the sky before their owners had noticed anything other than gusty wind. Ziggy, the whippet, had tucked his tail between his legs and was pressing his slender body firmly against Lucy's legs.

Sam knelt to clip Arlo's leash. The little dog pressed against her leg, his usual post-run joy dampened by the electric feeling in the air.

"We need to get this equipment secured now," Ginny called, her wild red curls whipping around her face as she struggled with the tunnel that had begun to roll across the field.

As Sam sprinted to help, her phone buzzed with an emergency alert. The words "Severe Weather Warning" flashed across her screen.

They quickly packed up everything, struggling against the wind as they did.

As Sam finished packing up Arlo's gear at the agility field, Ginny approached with her Jack Russell terrier, Pixie.

"Arlo's getting faster every week," Ginny said as she bent to give the little dog a scratch behind the ears. "Hey, you should bring Franklin again next time. That kid has a natural way with dogs."

"I'll see if Lisa can spare him," Sam replied, smiling at the memory of Franklin's excitement the last time he'd attended. Franklin Smith was the young neighbor boy who occasionally helped walk Arlo when Sam was busy. They'd bonded after he'd shown up on her doorstep in tears after missing his school bus last year.

"Well, he's welcome anytime," Ginny said.

With the storm firing up quickly, the group headed on their separate ways, dogs in tow. The rain pounded relentlessly against the windshield.

Arlo looked anxiously at Sam from his perch in the backseat. She glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "It's okay, little boy. We're heading home to ride it out."

The whole scenario was an odd one. A late-season hurricane from the gulf took a sharp turn and headed for the Appalachian Mountains. It was supposed to come the following day. It should have meant just a bit of heavy rain and maybe some straight-line winds as it allegedly turned into a tropical depression. But as Sam drove back home, her phone started shrieking at her with another emergency alert. Arlo gave a sharp bark in response, and Sam spoke to him soothingly.

The steep and winding driveway to her home seemed longer than usual. Cresting the hill, Sam's historic brick house came into view. The stately columns and arched windows now looked vulnerable against the rapidly blackening sky. The grand veranda that had charmed her when she'd purchased the property now seemed like a liability, its roof already collecting debris flung by the strengthening gusts.

Lightning illuminated the wrought-iron fence surrounding the property, casting spidery shadows across the lawn.

She pulled directly into the garage, not wanting to leave her car exposed. Arlo whined softly from the backseat, his usual composure replaced by an alertness that Sam had rarely seen since the days after she'd rescued him.

"Don't worry," Sam said, gathering her agility bag and unclipping Arlo's harness. "We're Type-A prepared for this, remember?"

Inside, the house already felt different, almost as if it were bracing itself. The tall windows in the sunroom rattled with each new gust, and the ornate chandelier in the foyer swayed almost imperceptibly. The century-and-a-half-old structure had weathered countless storms, but today felt like something different.

Arlo dashed to the kitchen and back, his nails clicking frantically on the hardwood floors. Outside, a lawn chair from somewhere down the hill tumbled across Sam's front yard, followed by what looked like someone's garbage can lid spinning like a frisbee.

Sam headed straight for her emergency supply closet. Hurricane or not, she had a laminated checklist and enough supplies to outlast whatever was coming. At least that's what she kept telling herself as another emergency alert buzzed through the silent house.

Her phone rang right after the alert stopped and as she was pulling out emergency lanterns from the closet. She wasn't surprised to see it was Olivia. Olivia had been through a lot recently and had made an amazing recovery from a violent encounter she'd barely survived. Her brother, Jason, had moved out just recently and was renting a place in town after acquiring a job at the credit union, leaving Olivia in her large home alone. Basically, the last thing Olivia needed was a major storm. She'd been through enough of them.

"You made it home?" Olivia asked without preamble. "Lucy called and said the agility club nearly blew away."

"Barely," Sam said, shifting the phone to her shoulder as she continued inventory. "Arlo and I practically swam to the car. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, but Jason's freaking out a little. He's never been through anything like this. He was trying to tape up the windows in his apartment."

"Tell him the tape doesn't actually help," Sam said. "Old wives' tale. But moving his car away from those massive oaks near his apartment building would be smart."

"He told me he'd done that," Olivia replied. "I've been trying to get ready for the storm, too. Before you ask, I've filled the bathtub with water."

"Look at you, turning into a proper prepper," Sam said, genuinely impressed.

Olivia laughed, the sound still precious to Sam after the attack that had left her fighting for her life just weeks earlier. "I learned from the best, didn't I? Though I can't find that hand-crank radio you gave me."

"Bottom of the hall closet, blue emergency bin," Sam replied automatically, then winced at herself.

But Olivia just chuckled. "I had the feeling you'd remember." A crash sounded in the background. Then, suddenly, the line went dead.

Sam stared at her phone. Was that the first power outage sign, or just bad connection?

A tremendous crack of thunder sent Arlo scurrying under the dining room table, his small body trembling violently.

"Hey, little guy," Sam said, dropping to her knees. "It's just noise," she said gently.

But those soulful eyes told her he wasn't totally convinced. Before Sam rescued him, Arlo had spent his life chained in a front yard, exposed to every element nature could throw at him. His previous owner had left him out through thunderstorms, blizzards, and blistering heat-all while the man stayed comfortably inside.

"Not on my watch," Sam whispered, sliding completely under the table to sit beside him. She stroked his soft ears, feeling his racing heart gradually slow under her touch.

The storm hit full force around nine that evening. Sam and Arlo huddled in the interior hallway as the wind screamed around the house's corners. Her generator kicked on automatically when the power failed, but the sturdy brick walls couldn't mask the sounds of the destruction outside-cracking trees, the metallic screech of something large being torn apart, car alarms wailing briefly before going silent.

Midnight brought the eye of the storm and tempted Sam to peek outside. The flashlight beam revealed her once-manicured lawn littered with branches, roof shingles, and someone's garden gnome. The rose garden was flattened. Through breaks in the clouds, moonlight illuminated the neighborhood below, which had transformed into a totally alien landscape.

Then the back side of the tropical storm slammed into them with renewed fury.

By dawn, the worst had passed, leaving an eerie silence in its wake and persistent rain. Sam, who had finally dozed off on the hallway floor with Arlo curled against her chest, awoke to sunlight filtering through the windows.

Her phone was fully charged thanks to the generator, but there was no signal. And she'd long given up on having a landline, which seemed to be a magnet for spammers and scammers. Now she was having second thoughts about having jettisoned the landline.

Sam walked into the bathroom and turned the faucet. The water came out slowly, sluggishly, and she grimaced.

Outside, the world was...