Belle Bollant
Brace for Impact
If I told you it was a dark and stormy night you’d probably laugh at the cliche. But isn’t that how all these stories begin? Forbidding midnight weather setting the stage for something more ominous?
It had rained almost every day that week, each downpour longer and fiercer than the last. Deep, dark puddles cover the ground now, stretching from the tree line to the front steps of a modest, two-storied log cabin. Even the gravel driveway has transformed into a murky stream.
The couple inside pays little mind though. They know to expect the occasional deluge.
“Trails are officially closed tomorrow.” She frowns, reading the park announcement on her phone, and shifts to curl her feet under her on the couch. Wood burns in the fireplace just out of reach, casting unnatural shadows across the coffee table in front of her.
“Not surprising.” He gestures to the kitchen window behind him. “Though maybe now the lake will be high enough we can go swimming?” She looks up at him, unamused. He winks.
“Ha,” she huffs, sarcastically. “I think I’ll pass.” Not even 100 degree temperatures would make the lake’s water bearable this early in the year.
“What would you like to do then?”
He had been coming to this cabin his whole life. He had done all one could in the quaint upstate town. First as a kid on family vacations, then for summer holidays with his college buddies, then with his first wife on long weekends when they needed a break from the city.
And now with her. Neither his friend, nor his wife.
She is something else.
The cabin’s tenure is well beyond their ages combined, but he had done what he could throughout the years to maintain its integrity, including refurbishing the ceiling’s wooden beams and refinishing the original staircase. He’d also taken steps to bring his second home into the 21st century, like remodeling the kitchen to include a six-burner stove, purchasing a vintage clawfoot tub for the master bath and installing a little diesel-powered generator in the backyard. The last a small, often forgotten, luxury brought back to attention and appreciation on nights like this.
He maneuvers the kitchen island to join her.
“We could go to town,” he continues. “I still need to get some parts for the guest bathroom upstairs and we could get Sartori’s for dinner.”
“Mmmm.” She loves pizza. And he knows it.
He hands her a glass of wine. She raises it in thanks and takes a sip.
“Or we could hunker down. Ride out the storm with a movie marathon and cook dinner here. Maybe end the night in the jacuzzi…?”
The mischievous grin he gives her produces a similar smirk on her own lips.
His descent is slow, purposeful.
She arches to meet him.
But before their lips meet, a violent crack outside draws their attention. Their smiles fade as they look at each other and again out the window.
“Maybe this is more serious than we thought,” she says, moving to stand in front of the expansive glass.
She watches as the tress bow, helpless to the wind’s fury. It howls for attention, the cries amplified by the rain’s assault on the cabin. The water seems to defy gravity as it strikes in horizontal sheets.
But her eyes search for something else.
Over head the light flickers twice, then recedes completely. The fire alone keeps the couple from complete darkness. He glances back to confirm the stove’s digital glow has disappeared. The fridge too, is silent.
Then it happens.
A poorly timed blink and you would miss it.
But she doesn’t blink.
Across the sky, as thin and intricate as a spider’s web, lightning splinters, illuminating the entire forest.
What happens next couldn’t be missed if you squeezed your eyes shut tight.
Thunder rolls like a stampede. It reverberates deep in her chest like fireworks on the Fourth of July. If she wasn’t so concerned, she would relish the feeling.
An expectant minute passes.
“The generator should’ve kicked in by now,” he says joining her at the window.
They search outside for the small box in vain.
“You think something hit it?”
“I’m not sure,” he contemplates the repercussions.
When he moves from the window toward the front door, she follows. Donning jackets and boots, they brave the storm, two small flashlights guiding their way.
They descend the front steps together, pausing at the bottom to adjust to the shifting earth beneath them. With no more than a shared glance, he continues on, his fingers trailing along the cabin’s worn exterior. She stays put, hand gripping one of the railing’s spindles.
Lightning strikes again. Past the tree line she sees several deer bedded together.
And again. Massive antlers turn in her direction.
Thunder follows. The feeling of exposure is hard to shake.
The storm is getting closer.
“Did you find it?” She shouts be heard above the storm, sweeping her flashlight back and forth. It’s no use. The weak light is swallowed within a few feet. When he doesn’t immediately answer, she takes a tentative step forward.
“Yeah! Hold on.” Placing the flashlight between his teeth, he drags a heavy branch off a small silver, newly dented, box. He curses to himself. Dear God, please don’t be leaking.
Bending down he tries to unlatch the exterior casing to inspect the generator beneath. It doesn’t budge.
The next strike of lightning sends a shiver down his back. The hair on his arms raise in response.
That one made landfall.
Knee deep in muck, he turns to yell back to her.
“The latch is broken. I can’t open it by hand. Can you run inside and grab the…”
He never finishes his request.
Light streaks from the sky in a jagged bolt. It hits the metal and explodes in a billow of blue and white sparks, heaving him backwards.
She doesn’t witness his decent, doesn’t get the chance to scream his name, before the electric current jumps from puddle to puddle across the yard. In the time it takes her to look down, to realize where she stands, for her flight response to trigger, the current reaches her.
It fills her so full of life it’s as if she, too, might explode. Her body hums with superhuman capacity, each muscle rigid to the point of pain. Her teeth clench so tight they might shatter, her grip on the railing so strong it splinters the wood.
Then, life vanishes. Her heart pounds one last time, then halts. Her eyes roll until she’s looking at the sky, then the back of her head. Her hand peels off the railing as she slumps to the ground in an unconscious heap. ~