Subjugated
Weather forecast: sunny with no chance of precipitation
Apparently, nobody heeded my warning even though I promised my healed rib was superior to any weatherman. They all had shorts and short-sleeve shirts on, sneakers instead of hiking boots, and one even wore flipflops. I stood out with my raincoat and high-ankle waterproof boots. “Chances are we could get rained on,” I said. They shrugged it off, the local news predicted a nice sunny day with zero percent chance for rain.
Initially it looked like the forecast had been right; it was sunny with a cool breeze, the most ideal for a long hike. We got under way.
Twenty minutes later a horrendous downpour hit us. It did come out of nowhere. To make things worse, the temperature suddenly dropped by a good fifteen degrees.
“Let us turn back, we have to go home,” I shouted. “Or at least put on your raincoats. I brought a few extra, in case some of you forget.”
They, drenched to the bone and shivering, looked at me. “Are you kidding? It is nice and sunny with zero percent chance for rain.”
“It is one hundred percent raining!” I screamed. “And it is also pitch dark, the sun might as well be hiding behind Jupiter.” They all broke into roaring laughter. “You are funny. Or delirious. The weather girl announced in the morning, sunny with no chance of rain. Look at the beautiful sky, for godssake, and suck in the clean mountain air.” I thought they were collectively losing their minds or I was losing mine. “Look at the sky?! I can barely see my nose. This looks like Dante’s worst nightmare.”
They shook their heads and continued on the trail. Despite the blaring storm I could hear them praising the weather, nice and sunny, not a single cloud in the sky. Perfect conditions for a Saturday morning hike. I felt I had no other choice and followed them. I also made a mental note not to open my mouth again.
Then a lightning struck the front hiker; he went down like a sack of potatoes. I exclaimed, “Somebody call 911! I left my cellphone in the glovebox. Or we carry him back to the parking lot and take him to the ER.” There was complete amazement on their wet faces. “What the hell are you trying to pull now? He is a little tired, that’s all, just needs a couple minutes rest. He’ll catch up with us. Look at him, he’s smiling, probably laughing at you.” I looked at him. He was cross eyed and his lips were quivering.
“Comedian?” said the hiker next to me. “Stop the monkey business, buddy, enjoy the nice weather. There is no chance for lightning today. Of course we understand what you’re trying to do. Hiking gets monotonous and boring after the first couple of miles. Apparently you set your good heart to entertain us, saying funny outrageous things like it’s a bad storm right now even though it is nice and sunny, and there’s zero chance for rain. We appreciate it, but please try some new material. I did like the last one, though, the guy sat down for a breather and you announced a lightning hit him. Funny, really funny, although bolt from the blue sky is just an urban legend, originally a phrase from a Shakespeare play. Anyway, do new stuff, not weather related next time. I can see the smirk on your face, you’re already cooking up something hilarious, right?” He tried to wink at me but could not — the storm was beating down on his face so hard that his eyelids were almost glued together. I shook my head; I was not in a joking mood.
“Well if not now, maybe we can have the amateur hour right after we get back to the trailhead,” he said. Then he slipped and fell face down into a pool of mud. I helped him up and yelled into the slimy grey glob that covered his right ear, “You see now! The trail is ankle-deep mud. The weather forecast this morning was completely wrong. This is the exact opposite of good weather. It is stormy and very cold.” I had to catch him because his legs buckled under.
“The weather, the weather, the weather!” he panted. “What the hell is wrong with you!? Why can’t you just enjoy the great outdoors like the rest of us? For some people nothing is ever good enough.” Now I had to hold him with both hands — his entire body was turning into a rag doll.
“And take off that silly raincoat, you can get dehydrated in this heat,” he muttered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Originally published in the December 2023 issue of AntipodeanSF.
