May 29-June 4, 2013 •
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AFTER THE STORM
hen he emerged from the bathroom, he knew four things. His dog was dead, his house was destroyed and his hand was injured, maybe broken, but he was OK. Paighten Harkins Campus Editor
Editor’s Note: Paragraph 14 has graphic content about the death of an animal that may be disturbing to some readers. Garrett McKibben, psychology senior, was sitting in his bathtub when he began to appreciate the complexities of fate and its mysteries. Had he gotten in the bathtub a second earlier, he would have died. Had he gotten in a second later, he would have died. By some magnificent stroke of luck, he got in at exactly the right time — at the crossroads of life and death — and he came out living. McKibben was in his home in Moore, Okla., when the May 20 EF5 twister ripped through the city, leaving miles of the town racked with destruction, disarray and death. The tornado tore through his neighborhood, killing his dog and reducing his childhood home to an unorganized and scattered arrangement of splintered wood and tattered furniture. Earlier that day, when McKibben saw the tornado warning for the county, he didn’t think much of it. Being a lifetime Moore resident, he’d grown desensitized to severe weather. In the past, when people made a big deal about tornadoes, the storms didn’t amount to much more than wind that just “pick up trash,” he said. This tornado was different. This tornado was 2,640 yards wide and traveled a little over 17 miles, leaving 24 dead in its wake and 240 wounded, according to the latest reports. This tornado picked up houses, cars and trampolines — much more than just trash. This was the type of tornado you needed to be underground or in a safe room to escape from injury or death, Norman Fire Marshal James Fullingim said. “This type of tornado, we’re fortunate we don’t get them very often,” he said. McKibben couldn’t get underground, though, so when the news reports indicated the tornado was about a mile from his house he headed to his bathroom with his dog of
eight years — Hercules. He grabbed a pillow from his room, ran to the bathroom with his dog and slammed the door. In seconds, he could hear the dishes in the kitchen start shaking, eventually shattering. Then the door blew open. “The next thing I knew, I felt slimy fur and a lifeless dog in my hand,” he said. It was 10 seconds of what could only be described as pure hell — the scariest moment of his life — because as every millisecond passed, he couldn’t guarantee he’d have another one to spend alive, he said. Those 10 seconds seemed suspended, like a frightening limbo, he said. Yet, time went by quickly at the same time. While McKibben rode out the storm from his bathroom, another Sooner waited out the storm in the now demolished Moore Medical Center with a friend. “I thought it was a nightmare,” information studies junior Catherine Diep said,
$2B 101 estimated damage cost
people injured
24 fatalities
Source: newson6 website; news channel 4 website thinking back to how she felt in the aftermath of the storm. As the tornadoes hit, a message was broadcast through the PA system announcing a code black — a dangerous storm — and everyone needed to take proper precautions. Diep and her friend ended up in the cafeteria as the tornado approached; neither thought the storm would be as powerful or destructive as it was. “I didn’t think something like this would ever happen. But the doors flew open and smoke and debris engulfed the room. The room was shaking,” she said. The tornado was near her for only a few seconds, but after it was over, everything around her had changed. She no longer was in a hospital — it was a war zone. The walls had collapsed around her and everything was smoky. Outside cars were piled on top of one another. The 7/11 across the street no longer was there, she said. “I never imagined that what I see on the news would happen to me. I am still in disbelief,” Diep said. McKibben echoed similar feelings of
shock regarding the rapid change. After he weathered the storm, he felt intense relief and also sadness, because in less than a minute everything around him — everything he’d known for the past 10 years — had changed or was gone. “It’s like you got in a time machine and traveled to a post-apocalyptic world or something,” he said. Looking back at the decisions he made that Monday, McKibben wouldn’t change anything. It’s like because it happened a certain way, it was meant to happen that way. It was like fate. Maybe the hallway closet, filled with VHS tapes he thought would fall and hit his head as the tornado went through, would have been a better choice. The tornado didn’t even touch it. He didn’t make that choice, though, and he’s not going to fight the choices he made. Yes, he lost his dog and his home, but he didn’t lose his life and that’s what matters. “I won’t go back and should-have, could-have,” he said. “I’m alive now, and I can’t argue against it.”
photos provided
Top: Psychology senior Garrett McKibben stands between his and his neighbor’s house. He was in the bathroom inside the wall of the house on the left when the EF5 twister hit May 20 in Moore. Bottom: Cars lay in a pile after the tornado hit May 20, 2013 at the Moore Medical Center.