Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [70]
The new two-lane highway headed toward the coast, dipped down and descended into the deep shadows of immense, old growth trees that grew thickly on either side of us. We wound downward some distance, passing occasional cottages nestled serenely up along the ridges, or down along the slopes on either side. No other people or cars were to be seen. It was all rather sedate and peaceful, the sort of tranquility doomed teenagers usually enjoy during the first few minutes of your average horror movie.
The road bent and curved this way and that, when, out of nowhere, a large low cloud descended to obscure the path ahead and whatever lay beyond.
“Where did that come from?” Mindie asked.
“Duh,” Waboombas sneered. “It’s the coast. You never been to the coast, before?”
“Shut up,” Mindie snapped.
Mindie shifted uncomfortably. She likely never had been to the coast. It had annoyances like heat, sunshine, insects, other people— some having actual fun—and as she had already pointed out, there was also a good deal of sand to be found near beaches, and Manolo Blahniks were expensive.
Slowing the Duesenberg to a safe speed, I drove right into what quickly became a heavy bank of dense fog. Mindie moaned a bit, fearfully, as the shroud of gray enveloped us. She was making me even more nervous. The way she was behaving, you’d think there was something sinister about a simple, everyday, natural phenomenon appearing out of nowhere on a bright sunny day.
Suddenly it began to rain very hard.
Morgan leaped to his feet and desperately attempted to jerk the convertible top up and over us, when out of nowhere—BOOM!— lightning struck somewhere very close to one side, throwing off intense, hideous light and a strong smell of ozone. The power of it rocked the Duesenberg to one side.
Everyone in the car jumped. The girls and the pastor all shrieked. It was nice to know there was something Ms. Waboombas could be startled by.
Then—CRACK, again, on the other side this time!
Mindie cried out in horror and fear. The reverend prayed loudly. Ms. Waboombas suddenly laughed uproariously. I shuddered and drove on as lightning continued to strike on all sides, jostling the car and shaking everyone to their bones. I truly expected Satan to rise before us at any moment and offer all us little boys and girls some candy.
“GET US OUT OF HERE, CORKY!” Mindie shrieked. “GET US OUT OF HERE!”
As hot, summer lightning continued exploding all around us, Morgan finally gave up on the car’s top and leaped from the vehicle. He then started running in circles around us before just as abruptly diving back inside, collapsing into his seat, cowering and whimpering, and praying feverishly, right alongside the pastor. Mindie cried, Waboombas laughed, and suddenly the lightning exploded on all sides of us at once. It went over us, through us, and into us, raising hair, drying skin, heating clothing, and generally giving us all a nasty tingle.
Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the clouds, rain and lightning dissipated into the breeze. The skies were clear and the sun shone down upon us, warm, comforting, and glorious once again. Other than the gentle sounds of songbirds that sang charmingly from every direction, the world had fallen silent and calm. The pavement wasn’t even wet.
I glanced quickly to the pastor, who had apparently seen me praying with him. We smiled nervously at one another. Maybe I would drop in at church again sometime, soon.
Just ahead of us, a sign indicated the turnoff to Green Valley, pastoral and serene, and very near, only a few miles farther down the road.
Relieved, and somewhat giddy, we each settled back into our seats and laughed with grateful relief, kidding and joking briefly about how