Would you Adam and Eve it?

By

Angharad.

The air was almost thick enough to cut with a knife and the humidity made even the act of breathing a sweaty affair. They’d forecast thunderstorms but two fourteen year old boys didn’t listen to weather forecasts anymore than they listened to anything else that wasn’t playing grunge music.

They’d cycled to the top of the tor where low cloud made it seem like another world and for a short time they felt cooler if a little damper, though their jeans were clinging to their legs with sweat from half way up the climb. They had just stopped to draw breath and a drink, when the smaller of the two, Adam, felt his mobile buzz in his pocket. While he answered it Ben dumped his bike and walked off behind a bush to pee.

He was a bit hazy on what happened next but there was a bright blue flash and a clatter as Adam and the bike collapsed on the road. Then the rain began, heavy, oily droplets. Ben was soaked in moments Adam lay moaning on the ground, his body was smoking until the rain doused it. Ben approached his friend. The mobile phone lay in fragments all around the groaning teen, who bleeding from various places, including his groin, his leg was still cocked over the crossbar as he lay crumpled under the bike. A wisp of smoke rose from his blackened trainers.

“You all right,” Ben asked his friend in between swearing and trying to think what to do. The thunder rumbled overhead and Ben shook with fright and confusion. By the noises his mate was making it was obvious he was still alive but he was hurt and probably shocked. “Help—get help,” Ben said to himself. He was about to jump on his bike to do so when he remembered he had his phone in his pocket, though he wondered if that was what drew the lightning down to his friend.

“Ambulance—yeah, my friend’s been struck by lightning...” He was almost together enough to remember his name and the positioning generated by his phone gave the operator a near enough fix on his position. An ambulance was despatched but it would take time to get there. ‘Keep him warm,’ the operator had said. “How the bleedin’ hell, am I supposed to do that?” he said to himself. He hadn’t even touched his friend for two reasons, the moaning showed he was still alive and he wasn’t sure if it was safe to do so—what if he got electrocuted touching him? He’d heard of it happening when the paramedics defibbed someone and one of the helpers was still holding on to him. He’d have thought it was ironic if fourteen year old boys could appreciate irony.

From the gloom below he heard the two tone sirens of the cavalry charging to the rescue. He stood over his friend keeping some of the rain off him. Adam had stopped groaning and was lying rather still. Ben called to him and was relieved when Adam’s hand moved slightly. His fingers were all blistered and bleeding.

It was two weeks later when Adam’s mum phoned Ben to say that Adam was conscious, and did he want to go into the hospital to see his friend. Although embarrassed by having to travel with her, he told her yes. She came an hour later and they sat almost silent all the way to the general hospital where Adam lay in the intensive care unit. As they walked from the car, Mrs Kennett told Ben to be prepared as Adam was different since the lightning strike, and he still had severe burns all over his body. Ben expected to see someone bandaged up tighter than Tutankhamen.

They entered the cubicle and Adam’s mum bent over and kissed him on the cheek, his eyes fluttered open. “Hi,” he said quietly to her. Ben took in the scene while Adam and his mum spoke in whispers to each other. His friend was covered in wires and tubes with plastic bags on his arms and legs, a pink sort of smock thing was covering most of his body and he had a dressing on one side of his face. The mattress he was lying on was attached to some box thing on the end of the bed which made hissing and grunting noises.

“I brought Ben to see you,” said Adam’s mum and she stepped aside.

“Hi,” said Ben, “You all right?” then blushed when he realised the absurdity of what he’d just said.

“Hi,” said his friend in a quiet almost feminine voice. That had certainly changed, thought Ben, then he looked at the notice at the top of the bed and felt stunned. Above the bed was the name plate, ‘Eve Kennett.’