Lukas
Weather was totally not a problem in the Underneath, said no one ever. Except for Fred's Keep, everywhere else holds a blood-red sky. There are no thick, fluffy clouds impersonating marshmallows or cotton candy.
So why is there lightning?
"Oh no- nope. That's impossible," I say.
Petra's frustration becomes more evident and I assume the threats are slowly flipping her inside out, adding to her inner stress. "That doesn't even make any sense!"
"You haven't seen this before?"
"Nuh-uh."
The thunder, to my relief, isn't as loud as the booming cracks of light we get above the surface - it's just more frequent here. Tons more frequent.
Our problem is that the Oasis lies across this rare occurrence of a storm, where an average of thirty bolts strike every second across this five-hundred-foot plain of red, hardened clay. "That must be some crazy electrostatic force- electric? Electromagnetic?"
"We don't know and we don't care," Petra says. "There's no way we can run across that without getting struck."
We stand on the slope's peak that leads to the fatal obstacle, giving us a wide, overseeing view of this natural disaster.
"Is there any way around it?"
She scans the map, and I notice her eyes rapidly trace a new trail. "Yes, but it'll take lots of hours getting through lots of lava."
"Great. So it's 'risk our lives' or 'risk our lives'." My voice battles with the noisy thunder.
"Which do you think will put more of a strain on your leg?"
"I don't know, both seem to be equally tormenting."
I'm not one to make the big death-defying decisions. Can we even defy death with how much we've been through at this point?
By looking at the unforeseeable bedrock, Petra analyzes the speed and regularity of the sharp lightning again, making the choice for me. Her expression bears uncertainty and her doubts only push her to a halfhearted response. "Then we might as well get it over and done with right?"
"You sure?"
"If there was any safer way around it, I would've told you by now." Out of her free will, she steps forward like she's setting herself up for a race. "The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we get back."
"We could die."
"As if we haven't almost died before. C'mon, we have to do this together."
We are not ready for this. Since I was infected, I was never ready for this.
I read a book about thunderstorms once. If we ever do get struck, our survival rate is a stable ninety percent. Still, that doesn't make it any better since the victim would have to pass out. Getting struck would be extremely unfortunate; wanting to get struck is no doubt delusional, but it could potentially wipe out the pain in my leg completely. By inflicting pain everywhere else on my body? Okay never mind, maybe that's a little gruesome.
"It's now or never, Lukas."
Again and again, I tell myself to stop wasting my energy on hyperventilating and thinking: in these circumstances, it's best not to think at all.
Petra gives me a readily nod as I align my foot with hers.
"Go!"
An imaginary air horn blows and I force my all into the thunder chase, which boosts me to be roughly on par with Petra. I feel as if I could start flying with how fast I'm going.
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Withering World 1 [MCSM Fanfiction]
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