When It Rains

by Joel Shaw

  “You like it?” Sheila turned more slowly so Amber could get a good look at the snake wrapped around her body.

  “It’s big...” Amber said softly. She was transfixed by the details, there were small images tattooed within the diamonds, hundreds of them. She followed the body to the ornate head located an inch above her vagina, the tongue appeared to be licking her clitoris. Amber blushed deeply and quickly averted her gaze.

  Sheila followed Amber’s eyes and laughed. “That’s fucking hot isn’t it?”

  Amber was speechless.

  Sheila laughed. “Speaking of hot. I need to take a shower. I hate being dirty. Some of the women in this outfit go for days without showering. Not me, I can't stand it." She looked at Amber who remained fully dressed.

  “A little shy, huh?”

  "No, I mean yes, no, I mean no...I was just looking at the...at your tattoo." She motioned up and down with her hand. "I've never seen...on...well I've never seen anything like it.”

  Sheila laughed loudly. "I did get carried away, didn't I? My old man was a tattoo artist. He practiced on me when I would let him. I'd get high and he'd get high and we would sketch something and I'd say, "do it," and he did. He loved reptiles. I guess that shows too. You got any tattoos?"

  "Yes." Amber was embarrassed, now. This woman she had never met was standing stark naked in front of her, covered with some very bizarre artwork that she couldn't quit staring at. She began to undress, revealing the Dreamweaver tattoo on her left shoulder.

  "That's it. That's the only one I have."

  "That's pretty sweet. What is it?" Sheila walked closer to inspect it. Her breasts brushed Amber's arm, sending chills down Amber's spine.

  "It's called a Dreamweaver. It's a Native American symbol"

  "Nice detail. Who did it?"

  "A friend of my mother's did it. My mother had the same tattoo. She said we wove the same dreams."

  "What's with this scar? It looks like your Dreamweaver caught a bullet.”

  Amber was suddenly stone-faced. "I never thought of it like that, but that's exactly what happened. That bullet killed my Dad.”

  She described the circumstances surrounding her father's death; how she had been clinging to him in an effort to break up the fight. “The bullet passed through my shoulder and stuck in his heart. It hurt like hell."

  "I'll bet. That's cool, though, I like it," Sheila said, moving to one of the shower cylinders without further comment about death or dying. She closed the door and activated the cycle. When it stopped she began to lather her body with a soap that filled the room with a peppermint aroma. Amber finished undressed and approaching the second cylinder.

  "You know how to use that thing?"

  "Yes. I used one for the first time a few days ago in Tyler. That soap smells really good. What is it?"

  "It's Dr. Bronners Magic Soap. Ever heard of it?"

  "No. I've never smelled anything like it."

  "Here. Try it." Amber caught the bottle in flight and popped the lid off.

  “It smells so good."She squeezed some in her hair as Sheila had done, put the bottle down and smeared her body with the lather, enjoying the wonderful fragrance.

  "I smell like peppermint candy,” she giggled

  Sheila giggled too. The peppermint candy women finished showering. Amber felt cleaner than she had felt in years. Sheila extracted a clean change of clothes from her canvas bag and laid them on the counter. Amber began putting on her soiled boxers and sport bra.

  "That's an interesting outfit you have. Where'd you get the boxers? I thought I was the only woman who wore boxer shorts."

  "A guy that worked at the Tyler dehydration station gave me them to me.”

  “What?"

  “Yeah, he gave me a lot of equipment and clothes. I was wearing rags when I got there. I suppose you could say he took pity on me. Amber decided to be bold and get right to the point.

  “His name was Jordan. Jordan Whittaker.”

  Amber hesitated, waiting for a reaction. If Sheila was Jordan's sister, she would likely say or do something.

  “Your last name is Whittaker, isn’t it?

  Up went the eyebrows."How did you know that?" Sheila stopped drying her hair and stared at Amber suspiciously, probing her new acquaintance with enormous green eyes.

  "He gave this to me." Amber withdrew the picture Jordan had given her and held it up for Sheila to see. She noticed for the first time that Jordan had written a message on the back of the picture:

  Dearest Sheila, I have given this picture to Amber Kirby as an aid to identify you. You can trust her. If you receive this message please try to contact me by short-wave radio on 480kHZ between the hours of 0400 and 0600 hours any day. I love you and miss you. Your brother Jordan.

  Sheila was non-plused “Really. This Jordan guy a friend of yours?"

  “I guess he is...I met him the day I brought my mom there to be ...you know." Amber teared up and quit speaking. She handed the picture to Sheila.

  "There's a message on the back of the picture" Amber wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Sheila as she read the message; she was crying, too.

  "Jordan told me that you disappeared the day the National Guard showed up.”

  Sheila was quiet for a few long moments, dabbing at her tears with the corner of her T-shirt.

  "I suppose from his perspective I did disappear. Actually I was kidnapped. When the National Guard told Jordan and I that we had to leave. I thought, fine, I didn't care. I was ready for a change. I went to get my gear out of my room. When I walked out the door of my room a mask was placed over my mouth and nose and I passed out. When I came to I was naked, face down on a wooden bench. I knew I had been raped. I don't know how many times, but I was dripping cum and bleeding from my vagina." Amber had turned away and was staring at the bathroom floor.

  “Hey, sorry, Amber. I’ve told the story so many times that I sometimes get way too graphic in my descriptions. It works for me, though. It keeps the fire burning if you know what I mean.

  "Where were you? When you woke up, I mean."

  "I was in an abandoned house outside of Kansas City. I was in really bad shape, both mentally and physically. I mean really bad. I was so ashamed about what had happened to me that I didn't speak for months. I slummed around KC with the rest ot the rats looking for food and water. Shania saw me by the grain elevators one day and started talking to me. We got to know each other over several months and I eventually told her my story. She found a therapist for me and took me into her home, so to speak. She's the best friend I've ever had. I owe her my life."

  "What about your brother? Did you ever try to contact him?"

  "I didn't even think about him for the longest time. I was dead emotionally, all I could think about was myself and how bad I had it and all that shit. When I did start thinking about him, there was no way of communicating with him. How is he? Is he doing all right?"

  "He is an amazing man."

  “Really?” Up went the eyebrows.

  Amber described Jordan's domain in intricate detail, including her introduction to Dale Earnhardt. "He gave me everything I have in my possession, including the Brammo scooter."

  Sheila smiled as Amber described her long lost brother, nodding every now and then. "He always was generous. He used to toss bags of food over the compound's fence so the illegals would have something to eat."

  "He searched for you for weeks after you disappeared. He had the illegals searching, too. Since your body was never found, he never stopped believing that you were alive. I was shocked when he asked me to look for you. He said it was a small world. I guess he was right. He also said that I would have no trouble recognizing you because you were twins and shared the same...what was the word...features."

  Sheila looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Don't try to make me feel better. I know what I look like. I think thats why those bastards left me for dead; because I am so odd looking.”

  Amber watched intently as Sheila fin
ished dressing, putting on a shoulder holster containing a hand gun over her T-shirt before putting on her jacket. She pulled the cuff of her pants over the shank of a boot knife. The perplexed look on Amber’s face prompted an explanation.

  "In case I meet the Swans.”

  "Who are the Swans?”

  “They call themselves the Black Swans. They are a group of uniformed mercenaries that move into uncontrolled areas of our country to steal whatever they find of value. They carry documents that look official and intimidate the locals into thinking that they have the backing of Homeland Security. They are mostly ex-military, which means they have connections to buy equipment and weapons. Swans raped me. They're nothing but terrorists.”

  "How will you know them? You didn't see them, did you?"

  "I didn't see them but I have pictures of a few of them. One of the stone-hearted bastards was taking pictures of his buddies drinking gin and raping me. They left the pictures pinned on the wall so I could see them or they could jack off to them or whatever the sick fucks were thinking. They must have been really drunk, or stupid, because they autographed the pictures. I have those pictures, I know their names and I know there is a unit of Black Swans nearby.” She abruptly changed her tone of voice. “I’ll get my chance to pay them back.” She paused to let the cloud pass. “Hey, let’s get out of here. We've been in here a long time. They'll start to talk." Composed again, she laughed liltingly and exited.

  #

  The following morning Amber woke early, anxious to repair the damaged Brammo and be on her way. She could see from her vantage point that it wasn't were she had left it.

  "Where is my scooter?” She yelled to nobody in particular hoping for some reply. Nothing. She yelled a little louder, “Anybody seen Julian or my scooter?"

  Shania spoke from behind her, startling her. "Jules took off on it just after daybreak. He said you told him it was OK to ride it if he could fix it. Is that true?"

  "Yes, but. Well I didn't think he would have it fixed so early. I was going to watch what he did, hoping I could learn how to fix it myself. Just in case it happens again." Amber spent a few moments reviewing from memory the contents of the saddle bags that remained on the Brammo. "I had some things in the saddle bags that I don't want to lose. Did he say where he was going and when he would be back?"

  "Jules is rather spontaneous, Amber. There's no telling which way he went or for how long, I'm afraid. However; he does have a 0900 delivery. He'll be back in time for that. He never misses a delivery.”

  "Is there any way of contacting him? I noticed the headsets last night. Those were radio's, right?"

  "You are observant, aren't you. Yes, we do have radio's with a limited range, but Jules' is in the charger. That's a rule I have: Put the radios in the charger when returning from a mission. His is there; I looked. Don't you worry, he'll show up. In the meantime, have some breakfast and tell me your story, if you don't mind. I got bits and pieces of it last night. Now, I want to hear the rest of the story. OK?"

  "Sure."

  "Oh, by the way, Sheila shared what the two of you had talked about last night with me. I think what you have done for her is fantastic. She needed a family connection.”

  "I didn't think I would find her, but I knew she was Jordan's sister the instant I saw her. Her story about the Black Swans scared me. I hope I don't run into any of them."

  Shania ignored the remark. The Black Swans were close. "Let's go get some breakfast in you. What do you say?”

  "I say I'm hungry and I'm tired of protein bars for sure."

  "Good. I think we have whole-wheat pancakes on the menu. How does that sound?"

  “Are you kidding? That sounds great. Thank you."

  Amber sat with Shania and they ate pancakes and talked. She shared her life's story with the wonderful woman who's eye's mirrored similar hardships. Amber wondered what her story was, but didn't ask. She took a sip of tea to quench her sore throat. She hadn't talked so much...ever. She realized she had never told her life's story to anyone. "I've never done that," she said, filling her cup with Chamomile tea.

  "Never done what?"

  "I've never shared my life story with anyone."

  "Not even with a lover?"

  Amber hesitated. She was so uncomfortable talking about something she knew nothing about. Lover. What does that mean. What am I missing?

  "I've never had a lover."

  "Boyfriend?"

  "No."

  "Are you a virgin?” Shania asked quietly.

  Amber looked directly at Shania. She could tell by the look on her face that she was missing out on something important.

  Shania smiled and cooed. “That’s so sweet. I envy your innocence, Amber. Don’t you worry, honey, you’ll get your chance.” She winked. “ Look at all these girls." She pointed over the balcony railing at the dozens of young women whom busied themselves loading boxes with bags of food. "They're all in their early twenties, and most of them have not had a lover. They fear disease and pregnancy. I guess celibacy is the cool thing to do these days and I understand that. I wouldn't bring a child into this mess of a world. I think it would be selfish and cruel. Back in the day, I..."

  The warehouse door burst open and a bloodied Jules staggered in slumping on a nearby pile of boxes. Blood dripped from his shredded knees and elbows onto “the spotless tile floor. “Goodness.” Shania exclaimed. She was up and down the stairs before Amber could put her cup on the table.

  #

  "What happened Jules?" Shania demanded as she knelt beside the tattered boy.

  "I wrecked the bike."

  "You wrecked yourself too, honey.”

  Julian surveyed his body and seemed about to comment, then passed out.

  "I'll bet he has a concussion," Shania said. Let's get him to the infirmary. Jesse, get some water. Jamie look outside and see if you can find the bike."

  Amber watched them carry Jules down a hall and turn out of sight. "I'll go with you Jamie."

  "Roger that. Let's go. There's a straightaway two blocks over, we’ll start there. If I know Jules he was trying to make that bike go as fast as possible."

  "That would be one-hundred and forty miles an hour."

  "Roger that. Shiiiit. If he hit something at one-forty he would be d.e.a.d." He shook his head as they ran across the vacant lots toward their destination. Jamie stopped suddenly, intensely scrutinizing the area for a sign.

  "I see it." He started running as he spoke. "It's down there, see it?"

  Amber huffed a response,”No...no...where is it?"

  "There," Jamie pointed and then stopped. "Check this out. He was pointing at the black scars on the roads surface. “He locked the brakes right here. Look at this skid mark, he hit some gravel and lost it right here. That's about a hundred feet of rubber right there." They ran further until they reached the point where the scooter had hit the pavement. Pieces of the Brammo were scattered along the path the bike took to it's final resting place at the end of the cul-de-sac. "It looks like he didn't remember it was a dead end."

  Amber studied the twisted Brammo for a few minutes without saying a word. What could she say? It was obvious the it was wrecked beyond repair. The front rim was bent, the tire unsprung, the handlebar was twisted, mirror smashed beyond recognition, peg broken, the panels that hid the motor lay in pieces on the road. The battery was cracked and oozing a viscous, black substance.

  "It's trashed," Jamie stated the obvious for her.

  Amber pulled the torn saddle bags from the Brammo carcass and swung them over her shoulder, wondering how she would make it to Saint Cloud, now.

  "It's my fault. I told him he could ride it if he fixed it." She said solemnly.

  "He rode it. No doubt about that. What do you want to do with it?

  "Nothing. Leave it here for the scrappers."

  "Let's go see how Jules is doing and talk to Shi. She might want to get it off the street, so nobody comes asking questions."

  "Let's go." Amber took on
e last look at the scooter and turned her back. "I really liked that scooter."

  #

  "What did you find?" Shania asked when the two returned.

  "We found it," Jamie said and succinctly summed up the Brammo's condition. "It's toast."

  "Where is it?"

  “Most of it is near the end of that cull de sac by the silos. What should we do with it?"

  "Take a truck and a couple volunteers. Get it off the street. We'll dismantle it and recycle it." Shania looked at Amber. Her disappointment was obvious."You OK, Amber?"

  Amber shrugged. “I’m OK, I guess.” She needed time to evaluate her situation.

  “How’s Jules?"

  "He's resting. He suffered a minor concussion and is pretty banged up but he'll be fine in a few weeks. He lost a lot of skin. Our medic gave him something for the pain pain he needs to rest right now. He wanted to talk to you and apologize. I told him to do it later, though. He would like to make it right, but unfortunately we don't have another Brammo Inertia for you. Sorry." She smiled hoping Amber would understand. “I do have an idea that might get you were you want to go. It's a little more risky, but from what I've seen so far, I think you could handle it. You're level headed and able to maintain your composure under pressure That's good. You'll need those characteristics to pull this off."

  "What is it?" Amber was open to any ideas. She was at a complete loss as to how to proceed.

  “Jump the train."

  "What?"

  “Jump the train. You know. Hop on a freight car and go for a ride? Haven’t you ever done that?"

  "No. Do you mean buy a ticket, or what? I don't understand."

  "Nothing to buy," Shania laughed. "It won't cost you a thing. There is a train loaded with wheat destined for the Twin Cities on the tracks right now."

  "What's the Twin Cities?"

  "The Twin Cities are Minneapolis and Saint Paul, Minnesota."

  "I'm going to Saint Cloud, not Minneapolis or Saint Paul."