Lightning flashes, and Wicker directs me back into the minivan. Heavy drops of rain start to smack against the windows. He takes another chug of Dr Pepper, his third can of the day, and we wait, scanning radar data and instant messages from the rest of the team. Nothing. An hour later, the storm changes course and starts moving south toward Oklahoma City, and I begin to see how little anyone really knows about tornadoes, and how dangerous that is. Wicker receives an instant message from the National Weather Center, 100 miles away in Norman. A tornado has been sighted, but not near Oklahoma City, as predicted. In fact, it has touched down in Wicker's hometown, Norman, not 200 yards from the National Weather Center. Then come the news reports: Hailstones pounding houses near Moore. Cars flipped on Interstate 40. A gas station obliterated in Shawnee. There are at least 58 twisters in Oklahoma, and by day's end, they will have killed three people. Wurman's cellphone rings. It's his father, calling to check that he's safe. "Too safe," Wurman answers.