I was with a bunch of friends in the Rogers YSA Branch touring some ruins in what looked like jungle Mesoamerica. The ruins were in two parts, the lowlands and the uplands. A long concrete staircase separated the two which seemed at least 10 stories different in height.
After viewing the bottom for a while a group of us went up to see some of the upper ruins. Kelli McEwan had to go to the bathroom, so we stayed near the restrooms waiting. Shortly thereafter we heard loud sirens going off and people telling us to find safety in the lower ruins. I calmly told everyone to go ahead and that I'd make sure Kelli was ok. All but two agreed, so the three of us waited for Kelli. We didn't seem panicked or worried. Just a warning.
Soon after the winds started picking up and I told the two to take shelter in a nearby ancient building. It was made of stone and seemed solid. I continued to wait until I saw it. A massive tornado was making its way down to where we were. I didn't have enough time to take shelter, so I grabbed onto a chain fence hoping for protection our weight to keep me on the ground. It's getting closer. Too large and too fast to avoid. Impact is inevitable. Here it comes...
I wake up and it's still stormy outside. I get up and start looking for my friends. On my way to the building I told the two to hide in, someone asks if I'm okay. For the first time I look at myself and notice a gash in my lower left stomach. I'm not too worried, not much bleeding and probably didn't hit anything vital. I continue to the building. I notice some rubble covering a lower pocket where I find my two friends.
I never did find Kelli, and my guess is she didn't make it. Tragedies never feel real until they happen.
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