Aftereffects

It was the one hundred and fortieth day in the bunker, and the sixtieth straight day of rain.  Today, the head-height clouds were charged with electricity, and your hair stood up on end if you walked through them.  Gigi had a red mark on her cheek where a wee lightning bolt had earthed itself.  The tiny droplets pattered down, already half an inch deep.

As a miniature waterspout formed over Kathleen’s bowl of cereal, sucking up Cap’n Crunch pieces with its tiny, terrifying windspeeds, Kathleen shrugged.  “If it’s this bad in here, just imagine what it would be like outside.”