This story is very loosely based on a true story. Actually, the only true part about this story is that the person was, indeed, struck by lightning twice -- and survived!
Despite that, I am not an electrical pro so there may be some holes or not-quite completely right information about weather vanes and grounding processes. I hope my research paid off.
Otherwise the information just fits the story.
All characters are over 18 and all sex is consensual.
This story is a transcript of the author's imagination so any likenesses, either real or imagined, are completely coincidental.
As is usual, constructive criticism is welcome.
A Strike of Lightning -- Part 01
The lightning was violent. The sky was a new lace of electric, hardly rhythmic lines of force every few seconds. The following thunder was a drum solo in the sky and the time between the enforcement of sound was growing shorter by the moment.
Stan Parchek stood on the veranda-type porch of his family's relatively small cabin in the empty nor'easter part of the state, hoping for a sign of his two older sisters. They went a-walkin' through the surrounding forest, supposedly meeting up with some friends who had their own cabin half a mile away. Now, Stan knew, half a mile in a forest of thick and close trees was like a marathon if you didn't know where you were.
Luckily, though, Stan knew every part of this area of forest for ten miles or so in every direction. He wasn't some super tracker-forester-hunter guy but since he'd been coming here with his family for the last twenty-two years, well, you learn stuff.
The cabin was surrounded by a hundred feet of open ground in every direction. This discouraged most animals and left no hiding places for the young to get immediately lost nor for ne'er-do-wells to cause issues. This also allowed any fire possibilities to be mitigated if not controlled: if a fire starts in the cabin then it has a long way to go to get more fuel from the forest. If a fire starts in the forest then, again, it has a long way to go with no fuel to get to the cabin. Any fuel to be had was bright green grass that would take a little bit more to burn.
As well as all of that space all electrical lines were run underground therefore any fallen trees, of which a few could almost reach the cabin, had no lines to snag onto. Fire problems could come from those tall trees but the reach was minimal, at best. Water lines were also underground. Stan thought his grandfather did a wonderful job of designing this place. It was only a few years old in comparison to some of those elsewhere in the forest but it was comfy and well-stocked. Screw that sleeping bag nonsense.
There were a few issues, sure -- any electrical problems had to be dug up -- very carefully, and the same with waterline issues. All in all, though, everything worked and worked well.
Now with this crazy lightning and thunder one could feel the electricity in the air and it worried Stan since his sisters had yet to return. Sarah and Gab, short for Gabrielle, knew the signs and they knew to call if there was something in whatever they were doing that was going to cause them to be late. Whether going to someone else's cabin or having issues in the field their SAT phone would have no problems getting through.
"Anything yet," came a worried question behind him. The voice was a little shaky in its fear and Stan knew very well how worried his mother could get.
"Not yet, mom." He didn't to turn to look at her when she spoke. Instead he tried refocusing his eyes in an attempt to make them sharper than they already were. And, he tried letting it go but, no, he dreaded the oncoming words.
"I wish your father was here," Melanie Parchek said, her voice now quavering in fear and loss.
Stan knew well that David Parchek would have all the answers and knew how to relax his wife when she needed it. Unfortunately, this would be the second year that the Parchek family had been without their patriarch. Jokes were poorly made that Stan was the new leader but he well knew that he wasn't. He didn't have half the knowledge or wisdom his father had, he wasn't given the same level of courage nor the same level of tenacity to face the difficulties of the world. Oh, Stan knew well that he could be intelligent or courageous or tenacious when it was needed but these characteristics were a long way from being considered by any of his family. His mother and his three sisters respected him well enough but they still compared him to their father and Stan knew he would never be able to stand up to the awesome that was David Parchek.
There was no resentment or anything but it struck Stan as a little unfair sometimes...what was that?
Stan's thoughts were broken by a movement in the north face that, just stumbling out the trees, were what appeared to be two figures. One was dragging the other, backing out of the trees so Stan couldn't see who was dragging and who was being dragged. Without a word to his mother Stan jumped from the covered porch and ran full tilt to his two older sisters. He vaguely heard his mother calling for Teresa, his younger sister, to get some...thing. He was going so fast he missed the rest of it.
One hundred feet really isn't that far but Stan felt like it was taking forever for him to get to edge of the forest to help his sisters. When he finally arrived he saw that Gab was dragging Sarah from under her sister's armpits. Sarah's head lolled to one side and Stan could immediately see that she was unconscious. Without saying anything Stan bent and lifted his oldest sister into his arms and turned back to the house.
Holy crap, this girl is heavy, Stan thought.
Sarah's head bounced up and down with no control against his shoulder as he tried to run. He had no thought at that moment to look at his sister and see her swollen face and neck. Considering that both his mother and younger sister, Teresa, were nurses he had no doubt they could take care of whatever was needed for his unconscious sibling.
Stan reached the porch in what felt like record time and laid her out on the small couch that the veranda held. He called on his mother and then was going to say something to Gab when he realized she wasn't there. Quickly looking back out over the expanse of field he saw her trying to run but had a bad limp. As an odd cogency of thought he once again jumped off the porch was that she must have sprained something so that was why the drag was a little weird. Still, he ran.
There was something building in the sky around Stan as he ran. It felt like he was covered in static electricity and that was making running difficult. The hair on his body was standing and giving off that strange sensation of having something dry rubbed on you. Still, he reached his limping sister and without saying anything he scooped her up and into his arms, turned and began a worried move back to the cabin. Just thinking about weather caused a brilliant spark of lightning that seemed only feet away. The thunder behind it was almost instantaneous and Stan looked to the side of the cabin where stood a grounding pole. Lightning would be, should be, drawn to the metal pole and shove it into the earth -- grounding it. There were other grounding poles and weather vanes across the roof as this area had bad lightning and thunder storms every few years. The place was beautiful, absolutely, but there was some danger here, too.
The bummer of the moment was that the lightning that struck was nowhere near the grounding pole. All Stan saw was a white flash. His eyes went from crazily lit to completely black. The weight in his arms was gone and he felt as though he was flying. The gravity of his head was gone and he couldn't tell up from down or there from here. Stan didn't feel himself slam into the ground.
Then there was pain. A white-hot and searing pain up and down his back and then down through his legs to his feet. Stan thought he felt his shoes simply go away and he was that villain that shoots electricity from his body -- he couldn't seem to remember the name of the guy or the hero he fought.
There was now no feeling anywhere to the extremities of his body -- no lying on the ground, no sister's body in his arms, no head feeling the pass of air as he ran. The middle of his body, however, was a screaming vortex of pain. Stan could swear that his heart was about to simply explode. Breathing was difficult. There was still no sight.
The last thing Stan Parchek thought about was that it felt like his shirt had been torn off.
**********
Stan woke inside the ICU. The waking was slow and caused him nothing but pain when he tried opening his eyes. Unlike the little while ago, to his thoughts but it had been actually two days, when the world was black he could see now but in blurry dysfunction. His sight was slowly clearing the longer he lay with his eyes open but the pain to keep them open was ridiculous. Still, he had to do it. Maybe he had some of his father's tenacity. Thankfully it seemed that the lights in the room were out.
Everything in and on his body hurt. His arms and legs felt like they'd been stretched too far and everything was pulled, bruised or missing. His back hurt the worst and when he finally realized that he was being held away from whatever he was supposed to be laying down on he figured he must have done something really bad to his back to have to have some kind of surgery.
His eyes were adjusting now and what he saw was shaded light. The lights outside of the room all had something over them, something shiny and almost reflective. As he turned his head he noticed that there were no devices plugged into him to measure his vitals. The only thing that was connected to him was a saline drip being held from a pole that looked like it was made of plastic. There were no beeps so a count of time was lost on him.
When Stan tried to call out for someone his voice broke and cracked and it took him a couple of tries to get enough saliva worked up to wet his tongue. "Hello," he was finally able to get out.
The call didn't seem loud to him, more muffled, but it must have had some strength behind it as someone rushed into the room and began taking his vitals the old fashioned way -- a handheld sphygmomanometer -- the one you had to squeeze to fill the bag around your arm and then they let a little of the air out and read the mercury inside the standing tube. This one looked old and rarely used, though. Then she tried a mercury thermometer and looked as though she couldn't actually read it very well.
"How are you feeling," the nurse asked when she was done.
"Terrible," Stand said.