Charlie was only ten, but he often felt older. At home, his parents were constantly busy or arguing—about bills, jobs, the future—about everything. Sometimes, it seemed like Charlie wasn’t seen or heard at all. One sunny afternoon, after yet another heated argument, he decided he’d had enough.

“I’m leaving,” he said, hurriedly throwing some clothes, his favorite comic book, and a flashlight into a worn backpack.
At the doorway, Charlie glanced back at Milo, his scruffy gray cat. Milo blinked his bright green eyes, as if to say, Take me, too…

good bye

Without much thought, Charlie scooped up Milo. “Okay, come on,” he whispered, slipping out of the house.

He walked down the dusty road that led away from town, half-hoping his parents would come running after him. But the only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of a passing car.

Hours later, Charlie’s parents discovered he was gone. Fear gripped them. They searched his room, the yard, the neighborhood—no sign of their boy. Desperate, they called the police.

“Our son is missing. He’s ten years old,” Charlie’s father said in a shaky voice.

Local authorities moved quickly. Given Charlie’s age, they issued an Amber Alert, broadcasting his description to phones and highway billboards across the area. Neighbors and friends joined in the search, worried sick about the little boy who had run away from home.

Charlie trudged along, Milo cradled in his arms. After an hour or so, he reached a cluster of trees near an old abandoned property. Dark clouds had begun to gather overhead, and thunder rolled ominously in the distance.

“Maybe we should turn back,” Charlie muttered, glancing down at Milo, who let out a soft meow. But Charlie’s pride wouldn’t let him return so easily. Instead, he decided to look for some temporary shelter until the weather calmed.

He spotted a small rundown shed on the property—a rickety thing with peeling paint and a door hanging loose on one hinge. It didn’t look like much, but it was better-

-than nothing.

Just as Charlie reached the shed, the wind picked up with startling force. Lightning flashed. Rain pelted the ground, and thunder boomed so loudly that Milo dug his claws into Charlie’s arm in fright.

Charlie yanked the shed door open and ducked inside, slamming it shut behind him. The structure groaned in protest. A few cracks in the old wood let in slivers of stormy light and swirling leaves.

Outside, the wind roared. Inside, Charlie’s heart pounded. He leaned against a wooden workbench, trying to calm both himself and Milo, whose tail was puffed out like a bottlebrush.

Suddenly, Charlie heard a sound he’d only ever heard in warnings on TV. It was a deep, rumbling roar that grew louder by the second, like a freight train barreling straight toward him.

“Hold on, buddy,” he whispered shakily, clutching Milo tighter. “It’s a tornado.”

The wind struck the shed like a giant hand swatting a dollhouse. With a terrible creak, the entire structure shuddered and lifted off the ground. Charlie screamed as the shed tore away from its foundation.

One moment, he was crouched on the floor; the next, he felt weightless. Through the cracks in the walls, he caught flashes of swirling gray and brown, debris spinning wildly in the funnel.

Whoosh!He and Milo were tossed around inside the shed like coins in a can. Boards snapped. Windows shattered. Charlie clung to Milo and to one of the shed’s support

beams, his knuckles white with terror.

The roar was deafening—like ten trains all around him at once. Rain hammered down, filling the shed with swirling water and mud. Wood splinters flew past him. Any second, it felt like the shed could rip apart completely.

Then, almost as quickly as it had lifted, the tornado seemed to spit the shed back out. It crashed to the ground with a bone-rattling THUD. Charlie and Milo were thrown across the floor, bruised and battered, but miraculously alive.

For a few moments, everything was chaos—rain, wind, broken wood. Charlie’s ears rang. His entire body ached. But he could still feel Milo clutched to his chest, meowing