Epic Rain

Starting with an intense blinding bolt
that seared from coalish Thunderheads and
gray soup stirred by an invisible spoon
to zap a band of highway, a river of asphalt
winding through forest on either side. The tall
dense kind you could only find in out-of-the-way
areas beyond the sprawling grope of cities
and suburbs.

This tempest would deluge
trees and soil; the severed road melted by
voltage as if angering gods.

Detonations rippled, crackling in a deep
bass resonance that almost formed words,
translatable to the type of grumbling you’d
hear from selfish old men who want everything
their way, often placated by old women
used to being sidelined and silenced,
treated like Second-Class Citizens in their
own houses.

The weather had a temper.
And a voice, disapproving; annoyed with the
atmosphere. Complaining.

But it didn’t have personality, manipulated
by intelligent handlers from a hill, overseeing the
potency of the thing they unleashed and wielded
through remote-control. Safely ensconced,
concealed from view, they operated knobs and
buttons, dials and levers like kids playing with
a new toy. Something dangerous. Explosive.
They argued.

Like friends or siblings yet
were neither. And the toy did not belong
to them. It was borrowed.

All of which couldn’t prevent them from having
some fun, adding Sound Effects and flashes of energy,
static fire from cloudbanks, a generated stormfield.
Rain swamped the terrain in a torrent as Thunder
growled and Lightning strobed. At once magnificent
and horrific, the spectacle became a lot more interesting
when a figure loped into sight beside the road
then halted.

Gilda Humphrey had parked
as she usually did, for an invigorating run
along a quiet stretch of woods.

Each Sunday she made the drive to this spot,
except last weekend when she had to skip it due to
a cousin’s Wedding. As a consequence, she felt
stiff and cranky the entire lagging tedium between.
It was great to be back, hitting her stride, shaking off
the kinks of office work. Till practically plowing
into a biblical event unfolding before her eyes!
She stopped—

Panting in disbelief. Gaping,
gasping for breath, Gilda stared at a fury
like nothing she had seen.

Mother Nature was in a really foul mood.
A megastorm, whipping trees, flooding earth,
appeared to have wrecked the road. Her jaw slack,
the woman goggled at an astounding chaotic scene.
Poised in a state of fright and flight, mere steps
from a volatile verge. Struggling to restart her
brain and retreat, dash to a secure place. Shelter.
A cellphone.

Lying on the Passenger Seat,
after a call from her brother just to say hi
then listen in silence...

Both of them tongue-tied, unable to speak.
Her relationships were complicated. Gilda
preferred the relative stillness of a forest,
punctuated by bird tweets and faint rustling
instead of traffic noise, Jackhammers, wails of
Emergency Vehicles. Or the incessant pings, posts,
messages, notifications, videos and chats on
Social Media.

This, this was a full-fledged Disaster Movie!
She expected to see a camera, an Action Hero Star.
She needed to call someone so they could call
somebody else. Eventually sirens would blare and
she’d feel less alone. Gilda’s eyes bulged. The edge
of the superstorm menaced, creeping closer in
deliberate darts, small lunges, teasily approaching.
Taunting her!

No point in pulling
rank to settle a dispute. The two were equals.
A pair of Scientists.

Climate-Engineers on a mission. Analyzing
a weather weapon, a synthetic instant storm designed
for use in enemy territory. They sought to record
the system’s effectiveness from Aerial Drones. With
portable Measurement Stations positioned at intervals;
a dish and camera on the roof of a Mobile Lab.
Giddy amusement filled the truck...
“Watch this!”

A random human subject
made it far more interesting. Unscheduled, she
wandered into the Test Site.

Sensitive data would ordinarily be collected
in private; a live trial conducted behind guarded gates
on fenced government property. This was a different
age. The steep global rise of Nationalism led to changes
for Official Protocols and Policies that existed many
decades. Limitations to power had been stripped,
funding poured into the Defense Department.
Military Research.

Loud booming echoed.
Gilda jumped, anxious. Turning, her eyes
scoped every direction.

A brilliant dazzling jolt of current shook
the ground, pitched the woman off her feet.
That was close! Given the amount of water, if she
wasn’t fried directly, a streak might electrocute her...
Gilda staggered up and raced down the centerline
of the pavement, fleeing toward a Compact Car
left where rays of sunlight still shone,
blacktop dry.

Muscles bore her fleetly,
but the storm nipped at her heels like
Wolves chasing a Doe.

And then it was clear! She sensed it...
no longer hearing, smelling, feeling a damp
presence, an enormous threat slobbering an inch or so
from her neck, her spine! Aware of a sudden drop
in turbulence, commotion, pressure. By miracle,
the targeted squall had reversed as if a Funnel Cloud,
shifting to drench and assail its previous path.
She swiveled...

A raging, howling titan
fiercely hove away. The typhoon-like
tantrum swept trees—

Flattening, uprooting. Flinging vegetation,
cutting a swath through Birches and Pines. Scaling
a tall slope, out of control, Project Storm-Box barreled
to its point of origin and swallowed a bulky dark
Van. Hurling high-tech equipment to the sky; casting
costly flying gizmos to asphalt and forest floor.
As abruptly as it developed, the behemoth fizzled
to naught.

Perhaps connected to more
than Technology and Science, it channeled
the true forces of Nature.