Here is the third chapter of Escape from Thunderhead! You know, the title for this story was inspired by a short story by George Saunders, and a great one at that. I recommend reading that one too in the time between uploads of chapters for this tale.

I like to think this is where the action truly starts. Reviews are greatly appreciated, but I want to thank everyone who's read this far. Enjoy!

It started raining while we were working on our main courses. The pounding of each drop against the ground was quite audible, even above the sounds of the restaurant. The noise was so pronounced that I shivered.

"Why are you shivering, Lucas?" Janelle asked me.

I frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I would think someone shivering would be cold or frightened. But it's pretty warm and cozy here, and you're too old to be scared of a storm."

"I didn't say I was scared of the storm."

"That's right," Janelle replied, cutting another strip out of her chicken Parmesan. "You didn't tell me you were afraid of the storm. You showed me that by shivering and other such things. You know, Lucas, I'm a discerning person."

"I can tell."

"But why are you scared of the rain? It's not going to hurt you."

A lump rose in my throat, but not one of grief. Instead, it was a lump of embarrassment, and my face was probably redder than a beet.

Knowing that I needed to answer, I said, "I guess it's just because it could be related to the lightning storm they're talking about on the news."

Janelle laughed. I'm not kidding about that; she laughed.

"We're pretty far from Arizona, dude. But weather moves with the wind, in whatever direction the wind blows. Didn't your Tinder profile say you were interested in the weather?"

"I mean, I guess so."

"It did," Janelle insisted. "In fact, I can call that page up right now if you want."

"Please don't."

"If you say so. But don't be surprised when others point out the inconsistencies in your behavior. Anything you post online is public, by definition. Welcome to 2017, Lucas Teller."

"Whatever."

It wasn't much longer before we'd finished our meals, and then everything was heavily awkward again as we waited for the waitress to return with our check. Neither of us knew what to say; at least, while I can't speak for Janelle, I don't think she knew what we could talk about.

Zeraora…that's a Pokemon species, right? That's what that kid mentioned.

When you're stuck at a table with nothing to speak of, your mind goes places you don't think it will go. It shouldn't have been so far out of the ordinary to see a little kid mention a multimedia franchise popular with children. So what was the big deal?

I tried to remember what I'd heard about Zeraora on the off chance it mattered. Sometimes you have to prepare for every possibility, and that's what I was doing here.

I know they've got Electric abilities. And I'm pretty sure they're rare. Other than that, not much, and this is coming from a Pokemon fan.

"Uh, Lucas?" I heard Janelle say. "Earth to Lucas?"

I snapped out of it. "Yeah?"

"The check has arrived, and I paid it for you. You can't just zone out when you're out in public because you miss too much."

"Oh," I said quietly, trying to shake off the mild embarrassment.

"Next time," Janelle said, though judging by her tone, I didn't think she wanted there to be a next time.

After that, she seemed a lot cheerier. Perhaps she still wanted to salvage the night, for which I can't exactly blame her.

"Let's take my car to the theater," she said. "Afterward, I'll drive you back to the restaurant, and then you can drive back to your place. Are you okay with that?"

I shrugged. "Whatever works for you."

We ended up doing just that. I left my car behind, hoping and praying that my car didn't get jacked by some random asshat. You might laugh at me, but this was a severe concern in Forrest County and many other places in rural America.

Once we arrived at the theater fifteen minutes later, we worked our way through the crowd to get to the front of the line. It was by no means a fancy cinema; dust covered much of the floor and walls, and there were even a few cobwebs. The popcorn, soft pretzels, and soda served at the concession counter probably wouldn't have passed a proper food safety inspection, but they tasted good, so what did I care?

"Good evening," the woman behind the ticket counter said briskly. "I see you two have cut the line."

"Well, yes," I said sheepishly, letting my left hand flap out of control. "We're here to see The Toad Warrior, and we were worried that the tickets may have sold out by now."

The ticket lady frowned. "That doesn't exempt either of you from the rules of this cinema. You must wait your turn like everybody else, regardless of how late you are."

We returned to the back of the line, weathering many odd glances along the way. And then the bickering began.

"You should have said something, Lucas!" Janelle exclaimed. "It's kind of unexpected to cut the line like that!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do, Janelle? I thought demand sold out the movie! Besides, it was a joint decision by the two of us."

"Whatever," she responded. "I guess we'll have to enjoy the movie as best we can. What's that saying again…oh yeah, you have to play the cards they've dealt you rather than the cards you wish you had."

"Makes sense."

Soon we were back at the ticket counter and had paid to see the movie. Fortunately, the ride here hadn't taken as long as I'd thought, though it had certainly felt interminable at the moment.

We'll have to enjoy the movie as best we can. That's what Janelle had told me.

Although I agreed with her in principle, I couldn't help but feel as though her words were a bad omen. She probably didn't see any future in our potential relationship.

And, if I were being honest with myself? I didn't either, nor should I have expected to. After all, when you're only 17, relationships are changed as often as underwear. If there's no future in one at that age, it's better just to cast it aside.

The movie couldn't begin soon enough.

Ferguson: So, how was the movie?

Defendant: Well, how is that relevant to our discussion here?

Ferguson: It's relevant because I decide it is. And I need not remind you, Mr. Teller, that you are under oath here. Lying, or refusing to answer a question, is a serious crime that will land you in even more trouble. And you're already in a heap of trouble as is.

Defendant: Fine. It was a good movie. You know, the Mario series had always been a passion of mine, and it still is.

Ferguson: How did you feel about Janelle Wilson while viewing the film? Did you think that the relationship had the potential to blossom further?

Defendant: She certainly didn't seem to think that. She isn't here, so I couldn't tell you her opinion for a fact.

Ferguson: I'm not asking what Janelle thought. I'm asking what you thought. Could you two become more than just friends?

Defendant: I don't know how I felt at that moment, and that's the truth. I'm allowed to admit when I don't know something.

Ferguson: Okay. Let's continue.

What I would later tell Darren Ferguson was indeed true. I enjoyed the movie to no small extent, and it may or may not have exuded a few laughs out of me; I'm not telling.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end. The words "The End" appeared on the screen, followed by the credits, set to the song "They're Pretty Tough, Should We Be Careful?" You know what song I'm talking about.

I wanted to sit there for another hour or two, pretending popcorn was still in the bucket. I didn't harbor any desire to acknowledge the cold reality that I now had to ride back to my car with Janelle.

"We should go, Lucas," she whispered into my ear. "They have to get ready for the next screening."

I knew she was right, even if I didn't want to admit it. Still, I rose slowly, as one climbs out of bed after a good night's sleep. The chair had been so comfortable; the only thing keeping me awake had been the excitement of wondering what would happen next in the movie.

We returned to the theater's lobby, then down the escalator into the parking lot. By this time, the storm had greatly intensified, and I shivered as I sat in the passenger seat of Janelle's vehicle.

"Are you okay, Lucas?" she asked me. "You're not scared of a little storm, are you?"

"No," I replied. "It's just…I haven't driven in such weather yet."

Janelle frowned. "You do have your license, right? You drove to the restaurant without a problem."

"Of course. I would never break the law like that."

"If you want me to, I could drive you home. Would you like that?"
I shook my head. "I don't see the point. My car's still at Altomare's, remember?"

"Then I don't know why we had this exchange. Oh well; I'll drop you off back at the restaurant."

That's precisely what she did. During the ride back to Altomare's, neither of us said a word. That's how I knew our relationship was over before it had begun.

Don't feel bad about that, I told myself. Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened at all. You got out of your comfort zone without being afraid.

Perhaps that was something to be proud of, though flapping my left hand would beg to differ.

We got back to the restaurant, at which point Janelle smiled at me. This expression was clearly forced on her part, but I didn't have the heart to call her out.

"Good night, Lucas," she said softly. "I'll see you again soon."

I wasn't exactly going to contradict her. I just waved goodbye and got in my car.

I liked to think I was a confident driver, but this storm put that belief to the ultimate test. The rain pounded harder on my windshield than even the wipers could handle. Before long, visibility was significantly reduced, even with the headlights on full blast. (By this time, the sun had gone down long ago, and the sky was nearly pitch black.)

Okay. The rain is a safety issue. I don't think I should keep driving in this weather.

Yes, my parents would be worried if I wasn't back that night. Or maybe they wouldn't be; my father didn't seem bothered by the idea of kicking me out. Whether he actually wanted to disown me, of course, was anyone's guess.

All of this meant that I couldn't worry about Mom and Dad; instead, I had to worry about myself, first and foremost.

I would have liked to stick to the main town roads on my way home, but the problem was that Forrest County didn't have many such thoroughfares. Most intersections didn't have traffic lights, and some even lacked STOP signs. Streetlights were few and far between.

Shivering out of more than just cold, I swerved to the right, away from the lights of an oncoming car. But I'd been overcompensating, and it didn't take long before I realized my mistake.

As luck would have it, my front right tire had made contact with the curb at the very point where there was a sidewalk. Therefore, I heard my tire audibly pop, which could mean only one thing.

I can make it back on a flat, can't I?

I was pretty sure the answer was yes, but I'm the first to admit that I didn't pay much attention to driver's ed. Now I wished I had.

There has to be a spare tire here. Doesn't every country boy carry one in his trunk everywhere, just in case he gets a flat? Yeah, surely I thought ahead, right?

I opened the trunk and found the spare tire. It was a donut, somewhat smaller than one of my other tires. A donut wasn't ideal, but it could get me home if needed.

And then the following problem: I didn't know how to put it in my car's wheel well. Yet again, this was a lesson I should have learned during my Life Skills elective at high school, but yet again, I'd preferred to zone out during that lecture. I resolved that if I survived tonight, I would never zone out during such lessons again.

I pulled out my iPhone and Googled, "How to change a tire." This search yielded an unwieldy number of results, but before I could peruse them, the worst possible thing happened.

A drop of rain landed on the glass case, and the screen went black, as though I were using Dark Mode on Safari. But it was a lot worse than that because the text was also dark, meaning that I wouldn't be able to read it without significant eyestrain.

"Fuck this! Piece of shit!"

What I did next might be considered impulsive and stupid, but it's not like my phone had been very useful to begin with. I didn't have much to lose, and I needed to vent my frustration like a real man.

With all the force I could muster, I threw my phone against the ground. The screen shattered with a satisfying sound, and then I stomped my right foot on the case. And I didn't let up at this for a good minute.

There. I've done it. So what do I do now?

I was about to return to my vehicle when I remembered that unless I figured out how to change the tire, my car was just as useless as my phone. Unless someone found me (and that someone might or might not be friendly), I was screwed.

But wait a minute - there was a ditch nearby. Perhaps I could spend the night there and, when the morning came, find my way back on foot. People always abandoned their vehicles in Forrest County - that's how it was. I would be in good company.

So I knelt in the ditch, trying to dodge the rain. Needless to say, this effort did not bear much fruit. Failing that, I just tried not to let it bother me that I'd be soaking wet by the end of the night.

It would be a sleepless night; I resigned myself to that. But if I closed my eyes and tried not to think about anything, perhaps I could still get some rest. Maybe I'd feel better in the morning.

I tossed and turned for a while, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. It wasn't terribly cold out, but being covered in mud made me shiver. And there was, of course, the knowledge that I might be on someone else's property. We Southerners are notorious for caring deeply about property rights.

Eventually (don't ever ask me how), I fell asleep. Perhaps it was just due to sheer exhaustion, but at least I'd wake up rejuvenated when the sun rose. That's what I wanted to believe, anyway.

I did not expect to be just as tired, if not more so, when my consciousness fully returned. It was like when you end up unwittingly taking a nap in the middle of the day - you typically end up feeling worse afterward. That was the case here.

I opened my eyes to find that I had ended up sprawled out on a hard surface. My position was not unlike when I sunbathed on the porch during the summer months; my limbs spread in the four cardinal directions.

The next thing I did was try and sit up. But that was easier said than done, for the moment I attempted to rock myself forward, the grandmother of all headaches made itself known within my skull.

Okay…was my drink at Altomare's spiked with alcohol or something? If so, shouldn't that be illegal?

The world rocked back and forth as though I were a small child held by my mother. Of course, my mother would hardly be the type of parent to care that much about me back then, even if it's generally a minimum standard for a parent.

Anyway, the ground ahead of me kept undulating. The surface was a brilliant blue, with occasional white caps on the peaks.

Wait a minute…those are waves. I'm in the middle of the sea.

My first thought was that I must have been kidnapped. Forrest County wasn't exactly the safest county in the United States. But unless it had been more than one night, or my captor had taken a plane, I wouldn't have been taken to the ocean in this short time…right?

No, that makes no sense. How could anyone sneak a sleeping seventeen-year-old boy on an airplane without anyone finding out? There would be a mountain of questions, and the police are corrupt, but surely not that corrupt!

There was land in the distance, though I couldn't make out any precise details. It might not have been America; for all I knew, I might have made it to the Netherlands or even the Philippines. All of this is to say: While my knowledge of weather patterns may have been impressive, my knowledge of geography was severely lacking.

As it turned out, not knowing where I was, was the least of my worries.

It wasn't long before I realized something else: My entire body felt much smaller than before. My legs were mere stubs, and so were my arms.

I tried to sit up once more. This time the headache was more manageable, but I started to wonder if I were indeed a small child now. Certainly, I felt as vulnerable as a newborn without the ability to call for help.

Well, I suppose I could have cried. That might have gotten someone to notice me, though I wasn't yet so desperate that I would go that far. I wanted to preserve my dignity if at all possible.

For some reason, I could not do anything but crawl as the boat beneath me pitched up and down on the waves. I couldn't stand on two legs; the only time I tried, I felt incredibly unsteady and lost all my nerve after that.

If I have four legs, it may be wise to see what I look like now. Maybe I have regressed in age, although that would certainly be odd. But perhaps this is all a dream.

That's what I wanted to believe, at any rate. But the more I returned to "wakefulness," the more convinced I became that I was indeed awake.

Looking around more, I saw that the boat appeared to be an inflatable dinghy, the likes of which I'd seen on the lake not far from my American home. There was a relatively small engine in the back, along with what I termed the "steering stick," not knowing the proper word to use.

Okay. Objective numero uno is to find out what I've become. Let's see…can I look at my reflection in the water?

I did just that, raising my front legs (hopefully, they were still arms) onto the rim of the dinghy. And I stared at the water's surface, hoping against hope that an image would appear.

Eventually, it did, and my heart stopped.

Where I'd expected to see a Caucasian human face with messy brown hair, I instead saw what looked like that of a lion cub. The cub's face had dark brown eyes (my human eyes had been blue) and a tuft of fiery orange hair above the fur on its head.

Later, there would be time to consider everything that had happened thus far and maybe try to puzzle out some answers. I had to believe that there was hope for me to have that chance; if I survived today, I could be so fortunate. But right now, I only knew one thing for sure.

I am not human anymore.