Lightning

LIGHTNING



Above me the sky was the colour of steel, heavy and oppressive. In the distance I could hear the low rumble of thunder. It was still far away, but I sensed that it was growing closer even before I saw the first flash of lightning slice open the sky. The first raindrops splattered onto the pavement in front of me like over-ripe grapes.

“Damn!” I muttered as the sky opened up, vomiting water. I looked around for somewhere to shelter, but of course there was nowhere in sight. Drenched already, I ducked my head and ran down the street. My feet slapped against the ground, making water spray up around my legs.



Rain ran into my eyes and I blinked it away. Lightning flashed again, searing my retinas so that jagged black lines marred my vision. The thunder roared, nearer now, almost overhead. I glanced up and saw a tree at the side of the road. It wasn’t much of a tree, but its branches might slow the rain’s assault on my bare skin. I ran to it, cowering beneath the scant protection of its canopy as the rain continued to gush down.



Cars and trucks splashed by without slowing. Through this rain the drivers would barely be able to see the road ahead, let alone worry about a soaking wet girl under a tree. I looked up through the leaves that drooped under the weight of water. Lightning lit up the sky once more, but this time didn’t stop, became brighter and brighter until the world around me exploded in a ball of white light.



“Wake up!” The voice was very close to me, low and unfamiliar. I struggled to open my eyes, but they seemed welded shut.

“Wha…” I managed, my mouth and throat feeling raw.

“She’s waking up!”

“She’s okay!”

“It’s a miracle.” I didn’t know any of the voices that surrounded me. Once again I tried to open my eyes and was rewarded by a crack of light. With more effort the sliver of light widened and I became aware of shadowy figures surrounding me.

“Don’t try to move too much,” someone said. “You were struck by lightning. An ambulance is on the way.”



The strange voice had been right: it was a miracle. The tree I’d been sheltering under was nothing but a smoking ruin. The paramedics checked me over carefully, but apart from a few burns on my arms, I seemed to be okay. They took me to the hospital for further tests, but when nothing showed up, they let me go home.



I didn’t discover anything strange until three weeks later. I was at work on Friday night and the restaurant was busy. We had several couples in that night as well as three big tables, one of which was a family birthday party. The three sons of the woman whose birthday it was had each come to me individually, promising great tips if I could look after them especially well. They were the type I hated, each trying to outdo each other, prove themselves the best son. I smiled though.

“Sure,” I said to each in turn. “You just let me know what you need, and I’ll do what I can.”



By mid-way through the main course, everyone at the table had drunk more wine than they should have, and they were getting noisy. On of the sons grabbed at my butt as I passed and I slapped his hand away.

“Hey!” he said indignantly. I ignored him, carrying on down the table to refill the birthday girl’s water glass.

“My steak’s cold!” complained one of the other sons, shoving his plate at me.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get the chef to heat it up for you.” I took the plate and ran into the kitchen. If he hadn’t been sitting there drinking and bragging, his steak wouldn’t have gotten cold.



When I took the steak back to the table, he didn’t even thank me, just stared down my blouse as I set the plate down. I hope you choke on it! I thought as I smiled sweetly around at the other guests.

“Can I get anyone anything else?”



I was coming out of the kitchen with two bowls of soup for the young couple at table six when I became aware of a commotion on the other side of the room. I practically dropped the soup on the couple’s table as I realised the steak man was, in fact, choking.

“Help!” cried the birthday girl, her hands twisting her napkin as she watched her son turn pink, then purple, then blue, his eyes bulging. His brother grabbed him from behind and attempted the Heimlich Manoeuvre. One of the wives stepped in and clapped him hard on the back. I couldn’t get close to him because the others were crowded around.



He slid off his chair and collapsed to the floor. By the time I got there he was dead.



“Oh my God!” I choked, clapping a hand over my mouth. Nobody was eating anymore; everyone was crowded around, staring in horror at the corpse in the middle of the floor. I ran to the front desk, fumbling for the telephone to call for an ambulance. I started dialling the number then stopped, staring in horror at my left hand. It had turned a bright, unnatural purple colour.

“Did you call?” The voice was by my shoulder.

“Just doing it!” I muttered, shoving my bilious hand under my apron and picking up the phone once more.

“Well, hurry up! The service here is terrible!” The man, one of the dead guy’s brothers, stalked away. I glanced down at my purple hand.



“Drop dead!” I whispered as I dialled the number.



957 words.