Lightning Rider by Jen Greyson

ago, I was at the base of a mountain range. What a strange day. A normal person would be totally messed up by today’s corkscrew path. I’ve never been scared of anything else, and I suppose I’m not surprised I’m taking a little time travel in stride.
    An uneven patch of stones jars the front tire, and the bike leaps in the air. I squeeze Hector’s ribs as he lands the bike. I catch a glimpse of his grin in the mirror and scoot my butt to the back end of the seat to put a little space between his back and my boobs.
    Houses reappear along the edge of the street, mashed together until there’s barely room for walkways or roads. The bike growls between my thighs as we climb a steep hill. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t driving, and it’s easy to slip away on my thoughts while Hector guides us along the winding street. Three small girls play with dolls and wave as we pass. I wave back.
    Houses crowd each other on the crest of the hill, concealing the horizon before the drop-off on the other side quickly comes into view. An impossibly narrow bridge spans a deep gorge, and we hurtle toward it. To the left of the bridge, a viaduct chokes the river at the top of the gorge and squeezes it through a simple hydro plant. The water plummets to the river hundreds of feet below. The canyon here is narrow, and the spray washes the road. Tiny wires connect the coils harnessing the water’s power.
    Fear rises in my stomach, and I flip-flop again, wrapping myself tight around Hector, no longer caring what he thinks it means.
    Now I mind being a passenger. I do not want to cross that bridge. I do not want to go anywhere near that waterfall. I want to go home. If I were driving, I’d turn around and get as far away from the power plant as possible. My stomach tightens.
    Oblivious to my issues, Hector tips the bike down the hill on the backside of the gorge and lets gravity propel us beyond the engine’s capabilities. We hit the bridge and rocket halfway across it before I can make myself speak, but by then it’s too late. The wires from the power station are thick black snakes splitting the gorge in half. The coil of emotion in my belly intensifies.
    This hot space inside me isn’t fear anymore. I ignore the wind whipping me and the road’s rumble beneath us. I’ve misjudged the emotion. It part adrenalin, but there’s more. Way more.
    It’s power. And it’s responding to the hydro plant.
    It’s my lightning.
    The moment I make the connection, I’m yanked off the bike by invisible fingers. I instinctively curl into a ball to lessen the impact, but it never comes. Though I’m terrified to watch myself die, I force my eyes open. I hang suspended above the road, three hundred feet above the bottom of the gorge, and watch as the Spanish landscape fades. Terror shuffles with excitement. The dark red tiles atop the houses become pink rooftops, and dark vines become a washed-out yellow, like spring has turned to late fall in less than three heartbeats. The comforting warmth of the sunshine intensifies to such an uncomfortable fire, I think I hold enough heat to birth a star.
    As the earth beneath me fades to transparency, I lean into the sensation of weightlessness and ready myself for this skydive into the unknown. My blood pounds through my body, pulsing in melody with the light. 
    A blinding flash.
    It obscures everything. Then I’m plunged into a darkness so absolute only remnants of the flash remain. As the blackness consumes me, one small question rises on a sliver of panic. One I should have asked in the beginning. 
    How will I find home?

Chapter 4
     
    Accompanied by a sudden rush of wind, color impales me from every direction. I stagger and throw my hands out to steady myself. It takes me a second, but I recognize the furniture in Mami and Papi’s living room. Air whooshes from my lungs, and I bend over, gasping. 
    I did it. I made it back to where I started.
    Time travel just topped BASE jumping on my