I sat in the dark on the edge of the basement cot counting, as my great-uncle Leonard had taught me, the lag between the thunder and lightning. knew the storm was only two miles away. I was alone but I was sure that the others would come down soon. The basement was the only safe place in the house.
If lightning struck it would come through the roof, I thought, or angle through the windows or the porch, along the path that sunbeams took as they slid into the house in the afternoon. I had already traced the entry points and trajectories the lightning would take. In my mind the house filled with virtual arrows slanting in from the sky, like a hive pierced with dozens of long thin needles. There was only one place free from penetration. The basement. Surely they knew that.
But no one came.
And now with the…
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