Read Online Struck by Jennifer Bosworth - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Bosworth
Tags: General, Science-Fiction, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Love & Romance, Mysteries & Detective Stories
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aweek. I wondered why Jeremy had waited this long to start. The only reason Parker and I had delayed our return was because of Mom. But then we ran out of food and with that we ran out of options.
“Lightning,” Mr. Kale said, strolling to the other end of the room. “Fire from the heavens. The weapon that allowed Zeus to become king of the gods. That brought a monster to life. What is Ms. Shelley’s intent in relating the two stories? Is she saying that humans do not deserve such power? That we misuse it?”
I sank lower in my seat at the mention of lightning.
This time Mr. Kale didn’t have to wait for a hand to go up. A Follower named Lily raised hers.
“Prophet says lightning from God caused the earthquake.”
“Does he now.” There was a note of mockery in Mr. Kale’s voice that was impossible to miss.
Another Follower jumped in. “You said it yourself. Fire from the heavens. The weapon of God. It makes perfect sense. God sent lightning to break the sixth seal and cause the earthquake, to punish Los Angeles for its shameless depravity.”
“Well then,” Mr. Kale said coolly, “let’s hope the old saying is true and lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Moving on …”
Students shifted uneasily. It wasn’t mention of the earthquake that had my classmates on edge. It was the idea that it might happen again.
I didn’t know if lightning had caused the quake, but I wasn’t naïve, and I couldn’t deny certain facts. The day of the earthquake, lightning had attacked downtown LosAngeles. There was no other word for it. I didn’t witness it firsthand (although I’d seen footage on the news a few hundred times since) but I felt the attack like a bomb went off inside me each time lightning touched down. Hundreds of people were struck as lightning hammered the ground. Many of them died instantly. And the lightning kept coming, as though the storm were searching for something.
There was a geological survey going on at the time—which, ironically, had something to do with earthquakes—and a crew had opened up a hole in the ground that went way down into the earth, supposedly for miles, all the way to the Puente Hills Fault that runs right beneath downtown. Lightning struck straight into the hole, and immediately afterward there was an 8.6 magnitude earthquake that lasted over three minutes.
The top seismologists in the world had formulated a theory that, hypothetically, the friction along the Puente Hills fault line might have acted like a beacon for lightning. When the fault was struck, it increased the pressure exponentially, setting off the earthquake like a nuke buried miles underground.
The scientists handing out their educated guesses during news interviews were divided. No one could prove the lightning theory, but no one could disprove it either. One thing I had learned firsthand, though, was that you should never underestimate lightning, or what it was capable of. Lightning was the ultimate trickster. Among those who’d been struck, it never affected two people the same way.
The only thing you could be sure of when it came tolightning was that the whole “lightning never strikes twice” theory couldn’t be more wrong. Once an object had been struck, it was that much more likely to be struck again. It had to do with an exchange of positive and negative energy. Something positively charged on the ground reaches out to the negative charge in the clouds. The two charges meet, and you get lightning. So the reason I was struck again and again was because of my overwhelmingly positive energy. Funny, I’d always thought of myself as a pessimist.
When the bell rang thirty minutes later, students crowded around Mr. Kale, thrusting their ration cards in his face for him to sign. If we didn’t have signatures from all of our teachers, we wouldn’t get our ration from the aid workers.
Katrina had told me to meet her in room 317 after school, and although I was anxious to get out of
“Lightning,” Mr. Kale said, strolling to the other end of the room. “Fire from the heavens. The weapon that allowed Zeus to become king of the gods. That brought a monster to life. What is Ms. Shelley’s intent in relating the two stories? Is she saying that humans do not deserve such power? That we misuse it?”
I sank lower in my seat at the mention of lightning.
This time Mr. Kale didn’t have to wait for a hand to go up. A Follower named Lily raised hers.
“Prophet says lightning from God caused the earthquake.”
“Does he now.” There was a note of mockery in Mr. Kale’s voice that was impossible to miss.
Another Follower jumped in. “You said it yourself. Fire from the heavens. The weapon of God. It makes perfect sense. God sent lightning to break the sixth seal and cause the earthquake, to punish Los Angeles for its shameless depravity.”
“Well then,” Mr. Kale said coolly, “let’s hope the old saying is true and lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Moving on …”
Students shifted uneasily. It wasn’t mention of the earthquake that had my classmates on edge. It was the idea that it might happen again.
I didn’t know if lightning had caused the quake, but I wasn’t naïve, and I couldn’t deny certain facts. The day of the earthquake, lightning had attacked downtown LosAngeles. There was no other word for it. I didn’t witness it firsthand (although I’d seen footage on the news a few hundred times since) but I felt the attack like a bomb went off inside me each time lightning touched down. Hundreds of people were struck as lightning hammered the ground. Many of them died instantly. And the lightning kept coming, as though the storm were searching for something.
There was a geological survey going on at the time—which, ironically, had something to do with earthquakes—and a crew had opened up a hole in the ground that went way down into the earth, supposedly for miles, all the way to the Puente Hills Fault that runs right beneath downtown. Lightning struck straight into the hole, and immediately afterward there was an 8.6 magnitude earthquake that lasted over three minutes.
The top seismologists in the world had formulated a theory that, hypothetically, the friction along the Puente Hills fault line might have acted like a beacon for lightning. When the fault was struck, it increased the pressure exponentially, setting off the earthquake like a nuke buried miles underground.
The scientists handing out their educated guesses during news interviews were divided. No one could prove the lightning theory, but no one could disprove it either. One thing I had learned firsthand, though, was that you should never underestimate lightning, or what it was capable of. Lightning was the ultimate trickster. Among those who’d been struck, it never affected two people the same way.
The only thing you could be sure of when it came tolightning was that the whole “lightning never strikes twice” theory couldn’t be more wrong. Once an object had been struck, it was that much more likely to be struck again. It had to do with an exchange of positive and negative energy. Something positively charged on the ground reaches out to the negative charge in the clouds. The two charges meet, and you get lightning. So the reason I was struck again and again was because of my overwhelmingly positive energy. Funny, I’d always thought of myself as a pessimist.
When the bell rang thirty minutes later, students crowded around Mr. Kale, thrusting their ration cards in his face for him to sign. If we didn’t have signatures from all of our teachers, we wouldn’t get our ration from the aid workers.
Katrina had told me to meet her in room 317 after school, and although I was anxious to get out of
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