Distant Thunder

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Stone Barrington woke to the loudest explosive noise he had ever heard, and there was more to come. Lightning flashed, illuminating his bedroom at his house in Dark Harbor, Maine, then a hammering on the roof began. He switched on a bedside light. It came on for a moment, then went off for a few seconds, then he heard the generator kick in, and the lamp came on again.

Holly Barker came running into the room; he had not even noticed her absence. She dived into bed and clung to him. “Please tell me this is a thunderstorm and not a nuclear attack,” she whimpered.

“It’s the mother of all thunderstorms,” Stone said, then switched on the TV to the Weather Channel. A man stood before a weather chart, and there was a large red splotch on it where Maine should have been.

“It’s a nor’easter,” Stone said. “Last night they were saying this would come in the night, then pass offshore. I think it’s making itself at home.”

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