Son of Lightning

  The Appalachian Trail sucked. Dan didn’t know much in life, but he knew that. It was nothing like all the YouTube videos made it seem. Trail magic? More like trail misery. Every day was a series of mishaps, sore muscles, bug bites, and regret. But he couldn’t turn back. His wife would never forgive him for disappearing in the middle of the night. She wasn’t a bad woman, but Dan simply couldn’t stand staying in that house with her for one more second. He was the problem. The routine was the problem. Book club on Thursday night, bowling league on Tuesday night, date night every other Saturday, fishing with grandpa the final Sunday of every month, taco Tuesday, wing Wednesday, it seemed like every aspect of his life ran according to a schedule. Then there was work. The work was endless. No one ever warned Dan what it would cost him to earn six figures. The office politics, the parade of bosses who knew nothing but acted as if they knew everything, the deadlines, the late nights, the office Christmas party, the pizza party that replaced the end-of-year bonuses, and the rising cost of health insurance. It was too much. It was simply too much.

  Disappearing and spending six months walking the Appalachian Trail had been a secret goal for Dan for almost four years. He’d sneak away to the bathroom to watch videos about it, or wait until his wife fell asleep before reading books about it. Every once in a while, when the pressures of his highly curated life became too great to handle, Dan bought a piece of backpacking gear. Deep down, he never expected to use any of it, but it always made him feel better knowing it was stashed away in the garage, just in case.

  And now here he stood. Two months into a journey that had proven to be the opposite of all of his expectations. He’d give anything for a mindless PowerPoint presentation or an earful of office gossip or one of his wife’s overcooked pork chops right about now. Instead, he knelt at the edge of the darkened treeline, staring up at an angry sky. He vaguely remembered reading something about not going over mountain tops during storms, but couldn’t recall the specifics. The next shelter was just over that peak, only another thirty minutes of travel. Facing the choice of making camp in the trees and getting rained on all night or heading up and over the mountain top to reach the dry shelter, Dan’s mind was already made up.

  A distant rumble of thunder filled the air as he emerged from the safety of the trees. His right hip ached, as did his left knee, left ankle, left shin, lower back, neck, and right foot, but he powerwalked anyway, eager to get up and over as quickly as he could. The wind picked up and the first drops of rain fell. The storm continued to grow in size and power, but had not yet unleashed, as Dan neared the peak. He was a few feet away when a bolt of lightning zagged down from the darkness and struck the peak. Blinded by the flash of light, the CRACK of the strike deafened him, a shockwave of sound hitting him and sending him stumbling back a few steps. 

  Dan dropped to his hands and knees, body shaking. The air was alive with the crackle of electricity, causing the hair on his arms to stand at attention. His vision began to return, and he stood on shaky legs, running back toward the safety of the tree line. Another bolt of lightning struck, this one directly in his path, so close that it threw him to the ground. 

  Screaming, Dan clutched his ears and writhed in pain. His senses were overwhelmed, and it took him over a minute to calm himself. He stared up into the sky and shouted. 

  “What is with this lightning?” 

  To his shock and dismay, a booming voice in the sky replied. 

  “You dare question me?” 

  Dan looked up into the darkness, fearfully searching. 

  “G-God? Is that you?”  

  “I am not your God.” 

  Slowly sitting up, Dan craned his neck, looking for any sign of the being in the sky.  

  “Then who are you?” he asked. 

  “I am son of lightning. Lightning junior, as it were,” the angry voice said. “And you have stepped into my lightning zone.”  

  Dan shook his head, questioning if this conversation was really happening. Maybe he’d been knocked silly and was suffering the effects of a concussion? 

  “Who are you to tread upon my domain?” Lightning junior asked. 

  “I’m… I’m nobody. Just a man walking the trail.” 

  The sky lit up with a series of crisscrossing bolts of lightning. 

  “I find your answer unsatisfying. All men are upon the trail,” Lightning junior said. “If you have no compelling reason for being here, I shall strike you down.” 

  Dan’s chest began to fill with anger. He stood, looking defiantly up into the sky. 

  “Who are you to deem whether or not my reasons are-” 

  “I find you tiresome,” Lightning junior interrupted. “I will kill you now.” 

  “No! That’s not fair!” Dan screamed. “I want to speak to your father!”

  Great booms of thunder roared, followed by a hundred lightning strikes. 

  “How DARE you!” Lightning junior shouted. “You will speak to me and only-” 

  “SILENCE, MY SON!” a new voice bellowed. 

  The new voice was twice as loud and intense as the first. Dan ducked and covered his head to shield himself from it.

  “I AM LIGHTNING, AND I SAY THIS MAN HAS BEEN TROUBLED ENOUGH BY YOU. GO FORTH ON YOUR TRAIL, HUMAN. MAY YOU FIND THAT WHICH YOU SEEK.” 

  The storm began to recede, and Dan stood. Once the sky appeared clear once more, he headed for the peak again. 

  “Thank you, sir,” Dan said to the sky. 

  By the time he neared the peak once more, Dan was all but certain this had all been an imagining of his concussed brain. But the moment his foot touched the peak, two lightning bolts tore from the calm night sky. One was twice the size of the other, and both struck Dan on top of his head. Billions of joules of electricity coursed through him, boiling his insides. 

  Dan collapsed, and as he died, he heard two voices in the sky, laughing their butts off.