When the World Ends

Lightning

Mother Nature had attempted to kill off humanity more than once.

First was the super volcano eruption. Then, the earthquakes. The ash and the deadly rain quickly followed, killing plants and animals with their poison. The ash was so heavy in some areas that it was easy for a person, or an animal, to suffocate from it.

The earth dried up. Then, the tornadoes began. They stirred up dust, causing a repeat of the Dust Bowl. Without masks, you were going to die in these areas. Even with them, you still had a high chance of suffocation. 

The bare ground was a beacon for lightning. It struck the dry earth with a sound close to that of an explosion; you did not want to travel in those areas, because it was too dangerous. Yet, often times, through those desolate landscapes was the only path to your destination.

But, really, what was our destination? Could it have simply been that boy? Not a place, but a person?

Why did he have such a good over her heart, even after a year had passed? Why hadn't he faded away?

In truth, I was jealous. I could never get into her heart because the boy filled it completely; yet, the boy had also broken it.

I wonder now, is it possible for the one who breaks a heart to be the glue that holds it together as well? Would life allow such cruelty?

Yes, I know now that life allows numbers of cruelty. I know, and the journey through the lightning storms were enough to prove that to me.

She stands at the edge of the town, under the covering of a porch's overhang. I know this is the edge of the town because everything beyond this point is blackened and burning.

The lightning storms never stop, the people here tell us. Those who cross never return. Nobody knows if any have made it across, because nobody ever turns back. You're lucky if you make it across once. You don't test your luck a second time.

She wants to cross. She doesn't say it, but I can tell by the way she is standing. She leans towards the danger, instead of away. I am scared for her.

We have been here for a long time now. I want us to stay here, and I tell her that, but she refuses. Every day, she has a staring match with the field of lightning. Every day, I fear for her.

Then, two men and a woman are preparing to cross the field. The crowd had gathered around them, filled with a morbid curiosity. Murmurs ripple throughout the crowd, and bets are placed. I frown and wonder how they can so easily barter goods over others' lives.

Behind the woman, a child's head comes into view. He is peaking around her leg, clutching it tightly. The woman seems to be stronger than the two men; she will get her child across and to safety, no matter the cost.

The lightning field is hundreds and hundreds of miles wide; they say it stretches from ocean to ocean. However, it is only two to three miles across. Yet, that is a conceivably long distance to have the chance of a sudden, burning death. It frightens me, but she seems unfazed.

Here, they call me the crazy boy. I assume I must look the part, with my bloodstained clothes that I haven't changed since--the memory fades. Since when? It doesn't matter. Time is a difficult thing.

She tells me we must go now. I beg her to stay here, just the two of us. We'd have a chance, I say, so please, Robin, just stay here with me!

No, she tells me, we have to go. The ash and the poison are traveling south, and we have to go even further south to escape them.