The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

74. One Hell Of A Fire (PART 1)

RILEY

WE HADN'T BEEN THE ONLY ones to need a breather that week. Over the course of this chilly weekend, while there were no disturbances, several of us had gone out of town. Devin and Tony, among others. Luc and I had the cabin to ourselves, but the both of us were so swamped with homework and missed assignments that we dedicated our time to saving our semester grades. 

Deep down, I gladly worked on that task rather than worry about more pressing matters. It was grounding, a reminder that despite all the insanity cropping up, we weren't above the simple things. 

Bang against the window.

Light flashed in the room and I instinctively jerked up from the bed to check what hit the glass. A full-blown downpour had burst early in the morning, sometimes interrupted by a sprinklings and drizzles. 

My nightshirt clung to my damp skin. I opened the window and hot, roaring air poured in. I hovered over the ledge. Blackened, slick trees fought with their broad, ancient bodies against what now had turned into a storm. Their thinner branches snapped off and twirled in the void, their poor limbs ricocheting off the thawed ice. In the distance, the dark clouds pulsed purple. A lightning bolt shot toward the mountaintop and struck, followed by deep rumbles and the sharp crackles of wood. 

My eyes flew to the glass. It had been cracked, most likely from the giant oak swaying a few feet away.

I slid off the bed, grabbed some socks and exited the bedroom. A light switch in the hall waited ahead. I tiptoed my way to it, palpating the walls, until it touched my fingers. I pushed the switch up. Nothing.

A faint, white glow emanated from the living room, but it could come from moon beams. Not to mention the numerous lightning bolts. Jesus, they were everywhere, now. When I'd dozed off, it'd been only rain. 

"Luc?"

"Over here," his voice echoed downstairs.

I lit up my palm, took the stairs and joined him. He stood rigid in front of the window bay, one arm crossed and the other with his glowing palm open. The first floor wasn't more accommodating than the second. Every creak and groan of the forest was audible. Leaves were ripped from their stems, small debris rose across the meadow, inevitably sullying the driveway. The cabin's foundations shuddered beneath my feet, giving me a worried feeling.

"Since when did we lose the electricity?"

"About thirty minutes ago, maybe less," Luc answered.

It didn't need much genius to guess such weather hardly occurred in Oakwood. The fact that he neglected sleep to keep tabs only worried me further. Now, the rain had relented its spot to this dry, vengeful storm.

With the moon's brightness and Luc's hand, I saw everything I needed to see despite the dimness. The sky was a disturbed medley, black and blue pushing over each other through humid fog, mixing and mashing like in a Van Goh painting.

Luc seized an object from the coffee table. His phone screen powered on, illuminating the frowning set of his face.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling Greg to test the signal. He can't be sleeping with all this."

Just as he started talking, which reassured me in regard to the state of our towers, the front door burst open. A lean, imposing silhouette painted itself in the entry. Two boots stepped inside.