Dissolving

Chapter 35 - The Beast

This must be the end of the world.

Or, at least, what I imagine the end of the world to be like. I have never before really given this any thought, but now that it feels like we are about to encounter such an apocalyptic event, it is all I can think about.

The last bit of sunlight has disappeared as if somebody had turned a switch and it looks and feels like it is closer to midnight than a summer afternoon. The sky is almost black with clouds and lighting seems to be the only means to break through the darkness.

Lightning left, right and center.

Splitting the looming, dark sky in such regular intervals that it is hard to keep track of everything that is going on.

It is strangely fascinating, reminding me of an eerie display of fireworks. But more so, it is frightening. Not necessarily the lightning itself, but the eardrum-shattering thunder that follows each flash of light and that makes me jump out of my skin every time, no matter how much I try to prepare myself for it, knowing that it will surely come.

I am not normally afraid of storms. Not until now. I have always found it kind of cozy, to be wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, either comfortably lying in bed or staring out the bay window in the living room, watching wind, rain, thunder and lightning from the safety of our sturdy old house.

When I was younger, I loved going outside in the rain, too. Obviously not when there was a proper storm, but when it simply pelted down with rain. On hot summer days, I would go out into our garden barefoot to jump around on the lawn, letting the raindrops soak me from head to toe, providing the kind of refreshment I was craving after enduring sweltering heat only minutes earlier.

I haven't done that in a while, I suddenly realize, for reasons that escape me. Maybe because it is somewhat childish behavior. And since I am still on that seemingly never-ending mission to make my family see me as a young girl and responsible almost-teenager, and no longer as a kid, I must have subconsciously decided that dancing in the rain would make me look silly.

Now, staring out the windshield of the Beast, I think I will never voluntarily go out in any kind of rain ever again.

"It's only a few minutes out now," Sam announces from the front seat, where he is tucked behind the wheel in the driver's seat.

He, just like Jordan, seems to know to calculate how far away a storm is. Apparently, it matters how quickly thunder growls after a flash of lightning. I remember that they taught this to us kids when we were younger and there were thunderstorms, but I can't for the life of me remember how it works.

Considering how completely and utterly frightened I feel right now, it is a miracle that I still remember my name.

Suddenly, Jordan lets out a string of curse words that, under normal circumstances, would have made me blush. Before I know what is happening, he opens the door beside him, kind of roughly shoves me off his lap and onto Jack's and jumps out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. I stare wide-eyed at the spot he vacated, trying to comprehend what just happened and then slowly lift my head to look outside the truck to see what my brother is doing.

Only, Jordan has disappeared from sight.

"What the actual fuck...?" Josh exclaims from beside us.

A couple of seconds later, another gust of surprisingly hot air finds its way into the truck as my second oldest brother gets out, too, struggling a bit to close the door after himself.

"What are they doing?" Sam asks, sounding as bewildered by the twins' actions as I feel.

I am still haphazardly sitting on Jack's lap, where Jordan dumped me like a toy, when I suddenly get jostled around as he leans over to the right – where Josh sat only a few seconds ago – so that he can see better what is going on outside.