Instead, Dean raised one hand.
The riders settled.
Martha looked at him.
"You've trained them well."
Dean shrugged.
"They know when to listen."
"Good."
Thunder rolled above them.
The basement lights flickered.
Then went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Someone cursed.
Martha switched on her flashlight.
The narrow beam crossed frightened faces.
A young woman with a blonde braid was holding her helmet against her chest.
An older rider was nursing an injured knee.
A bearded man with a scar across his cheek kept looking toward the stairs.
Martha pointed at him.
"You."
He looked surprised.
"Me?"
"Stop staring at the door."
"I'm just watching."
"Watch the people instead."
Dean almost smiled.
The bearded man looked away.
A violent impact shook the house.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Several riders instinctively ducked.
Martha remained standing.
"Stay low."
The wind screamed above them.
It sounded like hundreds of trains passing at once.
Martha knew that sound.
She had heard it before.
The storm was directly over them.
Dean moved toward the stairs.
Martha grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't open that door."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
He looked at her.
"You've been through this before."
"My husband and I survived a tornado in '94."
"What happened?"
"We survived."
Dean waited.
Martha's expression hardened.
"That's the part that matters."
Another explosion shook the house.
The young woman gasped.
Dean crouched beside her.
"What's your name?"
"Lucy."