A Storm
Ronnie’s bald head gleamed under the flashing thunder. You wouldn’t have been able to tell at first, but it was slick with sweat, mixing with the rain. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked again.
It was the middle of nowhere, the storm worsening by the minute. He stood outside in a bright yellow raincoat he kept for emergencies. He didn’t even bother to look up; the sky was furious, and he just wanted to get this over with. The raincoat, he figured, was meant to be easy to spot if other drivers passed by—not that anyone was on this road tonight.
“Guess I’ll pop the hood,” he muttered to himself.
He shuffled to the front of the old van and lifted it open. His socks were already soaking through the dirty, polluted rainwater, and it wouldn’t be long before his shoes filled too.
Then his jaw dropped.
Inside the engine bay oozed a thick green slime unlike anything he’d ever seen. It coated the entire block, dripping slowly between the cables and bolts.
“Smells like farts!” he roared.
Crack! Lightning struck nearby, sending a shock through the air and rattling his nerves all over again.