The Hiss Of Death

20250817

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Of the twenty-eight soldiers who’d been sent on a charge through the Lightning Caves, Theo was the only one left.
Well, the only one left alive. He could see most of the others from his nook. And there was no escaping the stench of cooked flesh. For the first time in his life, he was glad the rations didn’t taste of much. Made it easier to keep them down.
“If you were alive, you’d find this really funny,” Theo mused to Rick (who was twenty meters away but what did it matter now?), “but… if I make it out of this alive, I think I’m going to have to become vegetarian. Even mum’s pot roast would just take me back here.”
He sighed and turned his attention back to the crystals lining the ceiling. There had to be a pattern to the discharges. Something he could attune to, something he could learn to avoid.
The crackling POP as the lightning arced to the ground made them easy to track, but at that point it was too late to dodge. Was there some tell before then?
He unfocused his senses. Let the erratic light show lull him into a pensive trance. Trying to catch change, not detail. Any shift, no matter how slight.
Hmmm.
There was definitely something. Despite the lightning popping off at seeming random, with no discernible pattern to which crystals sparked, he found himself often guessing which ones were next.
Not reliably enough to risk trying to cross, but this already gave him more confidence than that festering drone had. He’d spit on its scattered remains if that area wasn’t still a hotspot for the arcing. ‘Protective reverse polarity shielding’ his ass!
Tsk. Fine. Push that aimless rage aside and return focus to analysing the lightning. See if he could crack what was tipping off his subconscious.
He strained his eyes. Closed them and focused on the sounds, the hiss and cracking. Even opened his mouth and snuffled, trying to pierce the humanitarian BBQ stench and figure out if the lightning had a warning smell. Working through his senses in turn, over and over, seeking a sign.
Aha. The hiss. At first he’d only caught it just before the lightning jumped, but it merely peaked at that moment; the quieter, slowly rising hiss of lightning building was easy to miss amongst the sounds of arcs.
Now that he was attuned he was able to block out the background noise and focus on the nearest crystal. Tracking its silence, then soft bubbling sputter that morphed into a steadier yet jaggedier hiss that rose until it was cut by the crack of the arc breaking free.
Each crystal had its own pace. Some rapid, some slow. If he could find a path which had as few crystals overhead as possible, and try and make sure the ones he passed were slow…
He started using his survival knife to scratch a rough map onto the wall of his nook. Partly to make sure he had it all straight, and partly because if he got it wrong, well, this was all he had left to leave behind. His uncertain advice to any poor unfortunate sod lucky enough to make it to this bolthole.
While it was harder to distinguish the distant crystals, after a few hours he was fairly sure he’d filled out the map. Yeah, it was crooked and not to scale and Percy would be making all kinds of snide remarks if he wasn’t on the other side of the cavern with his head in six pieces. But it was the best Theo could do.
And… he thought he had a path.
He took another sip of water. The lightness of the canteen in his hand no longer quite so terrifying. There was, after all, plenty of supplies scattered about, most fairly intact and some pretty close to him.
The lads wouldn’t have minded. He was sure of that. After all, if he’d gotten zapped he’d have wanted any survivors to take whatever equipment of his they could use to get the hell out. It wasn’t like he was planning on eating them or even desecrating their bodies somehow. He’d rather make a wild break for it than resort to either.
But potential for supply runs aside, he’d like to get out of here as soon as possible. So he turned his attention back to the crystals, this time focusing on the ones along his planned path. Mentally walking the route, backtracking and darting forward according to the hisses.
Over and over, until most of the ‘attempts’ ‘succeeded’. Until he was… well, as confident as he could get.
He steeled himself by scratching everyone’s names onto the opposite wall of the nook. Noting down rank, first name, surname, nickname, plus a pertinent detail if he could think of one. Once it was done, while it was rough, it looked like a proper memorial. Gazing at it gave him a feeling of peace. He even managed to get some sleep, curled up under the names of his comrades pillowed on the gritty sharp sand which covered the cavern floor.
Were they with him, in some way? It was a nice thought. Probably nonsense, but what else did he have to cling to right now? Just nice delusions and his ears.
Alright. This was probably as good as he was going to get. Time to go.
He mentally walked the route one last time, his finger gently tracing the map as his eyes tracked the activity of the crystals.
Yeah. Should be fine.
He’d already shed his gear, making sure there was nothing metallic on him that might attract the lightning. All he had left to do was salute the memorial, wait for the first crystal to arc, and then do it for real.
Ears, feet, don’t fail me now.

Prompt was “Write a descriptive scene in which the protagonist must learn an unusual skill in order to stay alive.”