Lightning Crashes
By Star Crossed Vigilante
We were three days into our camping trip and I couldn't take it anymore.
Without complaining, I had spent three whole days with Dad, the business man who carted his satellite phone out to the middle of nowhere with him and would not stop yakking on it, to the point that he ignored his family for the wonders of business matters. I had spent three whole days with Mom, my polar opposite, whose chipper attitude and sunny smiles grated horribly on my nerves. I had even spent three whole complaint-less days with Nikky, who would not stop whining about how cold, or how hot, or how wet, or how dry, or how tired, or how bored, or how hungry he was.
He would also not stop talking about how much he regretted leaving his DMC4 disc unplayed.
It was Sunday evening, and the mountain air smelled of ozone and pine, with an undercurrent of decaying leaves. The atmosphere was heavy and still, pressure indicating an approaching storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, drowning out the sounds of our feet scrambling over boulders and fallen pine boughs.
I was running, both literally and figuratively, and will admit that freely. I was running from the pressure that was my family, and sought to climb to the top of a nearby bluff in order to find an hour or so of peace and quiet.
Of course, what with my brother following me up the steep, rocky slope, the looks of things indicated that I would find very little quiet atop the rise.
"W-wait up, Max!" Nikky called as he stumbled up the slope. I did not reply, merely found another handhold and pulled myself atop a boulder. For all his tough talk at home, he was like a little kid again out here, stumbling after his sister like a lost puppy.
Thunder boomed again; more loudly this time. The thunderheads that dominated the skyline above us drew closer. A breeze sprang up, whipping my copper braid into my eyes. Some of the loose strands tangled with my pale lashes, and I was forced to blink rapidly to clear my vision
"Don't you think we've gone far enough?" he yelled up at me. I remained silent as thunder rolled and rain began to fall, as light and persistent as sunshine, though not nearly as warm. Actually, it was quite cold, and I shivered as the drops saturated my plaid lumberjack shirt. "Look, it's starting to rain! C'mon, Max; let's go back!"
I looked back at him as I levered myself atop a log. He was huddled on an outcropping of stone, arms wrapped tight around his knees. His thick brown hair was disheveled and wet, his mahogany eyes scared.
"A little higher!" I shouted above the rising wind as rain pelted me. "Just to that ledge up there!"
I pointed with my left hand. The plain silver ring I wore on my index finger glittered. About twenty feet above me was a bare ledge on the mountainside; a thick slab of stone open to the sky. Its top had been smoothed by wind and rain; it looked like a rock table with no legs.
"I don't think that's such a good idea—" Nikky called, but his voice was drowned out by the wind. I started climbing again, hiking boots scrambling for purchase. The rain began to pound, the fine drizzle now a torrent. The fabric of my jeans clung to me like a second skin.
It took me no more than five minutes to reach the stone slab. I pulled myself atop it with shaking arms, rose haltingly to my knees, my hiking boots scuffing the stone warily. My breath came in short, hard gasps that did nothing but burn my lungs, and my muscles were screaming in pain. Oxygen was having a hard time coming back to my body, and every fiber of me thrummed as if wound taught by an invisible pulley.
I stood completely straight despite my body's complaints, and was nearly bowled over by a gust of vicious wind. My arms pin wheeled drunkenly, searching for balance, and after a seemingly endless moment I was able to right myself. Turning back the way I had come, I squinted through the downpour and was able to make out Nikky's small form huddled on the rock where I'd left him. He had not moved.
"Nikky!" I screamed, waving my arms in the air. I knew he couldn't make it up here without help, and I since I doubted he could hear me I kept my left hand—the one with the ring—elevated. "Stay put! I'll be back down in a minute!" Thunder roared, then, so loudly I thought my eardrums would burst.
And then I was on fire.
My nerves sang and my flesh pulsed; my muscles spasmed and my ears rang; my bones hummed with a chorus of vibration. My head jerked back as a scream tore from my throat, and I saw a ribbon of jagged silver light connecting with the ring on my left index finger.
My knees began to buckle as the lightning vanished and the sensation dissipated, but then snapped back into rigidity when a second bolt connected with the silver band. It was far worse than the first, since my nerves were already singed beyond repair. My spine went nuts: I began to seizure violently as the electricity pounded into me in waves of violent light. As soon as the feeling both started, reached a fever pitch, and dissipated, a third and final bolt connected with my ring. My blood boiled in my veins; my hair stood on end; my nails embedded themselves in my palm. My eyes bulged from their sockets as white hot pain jack knifed through my body. My muscles jerked and I began to convulse while still on my feet.
And then it was over.
As I began to fall, I thought in a detached way that I must have been screaming the entire time, because my throat felt raw enough to bleed. As my body connected with the stone, I noted absently the grayish coloring of the rock beneath me, and the black and silver speckles interspersed throughout the stone. Quartz, I thought vaguely. The stone is laced with quartz. My hand fell to rest next to my face, and I saw that the flesh around my ring was burnt black and blistered. Would I lose the finger? I wondered absently. I hope not…
Then, smiling in the absence of that singing, electric pain, I succumbed to darkness.
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