I watched his black silhouette merge with the rising dust as the storm clouds I had seen earlier made their approach. Purple lightning streaked across the sky. It didn't look good. The storm would make Precinct 11 in an hour, two tops. I was worried about Roxx, but I knew he could take care of himself. He always had. As for me, I needed to prepare my abode before the storm hit.
I closed Roxx’s shop and attached the nut bolt then shuffled my way to my shack. The initial fear of the crowd had dissipated and they slowly dispersed to their own shelters. The storm did not care about anything. It was coming whether you liked it or not. And that was that.
The orange flame of the explosion had died down and was replaced by a dense black smoke. It colored the entire sky in charcoal. With the sun making its descent, the contrast formed from the orange glow and the black tint of smoke and ash were breathtaking.
Even in the mist of chaos and destruction, there is beauty that extends beyond all understanding. Death may be a callous and unforgiving neighbor. But it was also breathtakingly beautiful.
≈ Chapter 11 ≈
Hurricanes weren't uncommon in these parts. But I had never experienced one this intense.
The rain had started coming down in sheets by the time I made it to my hut on the hill. This was one of those moments when I wished I hadn't been such a loner and chosen to set up my roost on the farthest reaches of the precinct. Sure, there were others out here with me. But I was a good two or three miles from the Market and with this hobble, the going wasn't easy.
I limped my way for two hours before finally making it to my retreat. I stormed in through the front door, and slammed it shut. The wind was howling through the hole in the wall
Dang it! I had forgotten to patch it up. There was water pooling on the floor.
I stomped through the muddy mush and quickly grabbed a bucket and set it under the hole to try and gather up as much of the dirty rainwater as I could. I laid a rag over the top of the bucket so that the dirt and grime would filter out as the rain poured through. If I were lucky, I'd have some clean-ish drinking water by the end of the night.
I looked around my tolerable and dull establishment for something, anything I could use to fuse with the side panels, square off the hole and keep the wind and rain from drowning me in the middle of the night. I found what I was looking for. A piece of flat sheet metal that I was going to use as a reflective shield and barrier for my trees, but for now, it would suffice as a rain repellant. I lodged the edges of the flimsy metal sheet between the grooves of the wood panels, and curved it through each one in an overlapping pattern. My mother had taught me how to sew when I was a girl. She always said sewing could save my life one day. Well, I wasn't sure if it would save my life tonight, but it sure would help keep me dry. And for me, that was good enough.
After struggling against the invasive wind for several minutes, I managed to secure the hole. Water still leaked through the cracks, but all in all, my blockage was pretty good, if I said so myself. Who said Divines didn't have any handy work skills? Metallics weren't the only ones with the magic hands around here. You kind of had to be good with your hands to survive. Everyone was a craftsman or builder by necessity. In your face, Mother Nature. This is one hut you'll not be washing away tonight.
My hut was a tiny square box no more than ten square feet by ten feet, so it wasn't hard for me to maneuver around it. Which was very convenient considering the circumstances. I grabbed five more buckets from under my cot and strapped stray cloth over their mouths too, then opened the door to brave the elements for a second time. I was nearly toppled over by a gust of wind. My ankle was screaming but I blocked it out and lugged through the rain to get the job done. Most rains would come and go in under thirty minutes. Not enough time for the rain to really wipe the dirt and dust from the sky. But, from the looks of this storm, it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Which meant water. And lots of it. I lined the side of my hut with the buckets and tied them together with an old piece of chicken wire. I staked it to the ground and made sure the buckets were secure enough to withstand the wind. They budged a little, but it would have to do.
Satisfied, I dragged myself back into the hut and closed the door. I slammed the latch into the holster and leaned against the flimsy wood. The room looked nostalgic and yet ominous with its dark shadows, rugged edges and battered, beaten, and bruised items rifted from other bodied souls or objects. It was one big clutter of interbred parts. The ultimate kaleidoscope of patterns, texture, and past.
I removed my shirt and rung it out into another bucket, then laid it over my only chair. The rest of my drenched clothing soon followed. I plopped down on the cot made out of automobile cushions. I felt my skin stick to the leather seating as I lay there in only my under garments. At least I was out of the elements. I peered down at my ankle. The bandage wrap was soaked and would need replacing. I grimaced as I sat up and removed the strap that Roxx had adhered to the metal splint. I tossed the balled up mesh and dropped the metal on the floor. It splashed in the mud and disappeared beneath a puddle. I didn't bother to retrieve it and instead examined my ankle.
I gingerly touched the contours with my fingers as I probed the injury. Now, I must confess: earlier I said part of the bone was protruding from the skin. That was not true. If you haven't already noticed, I can be a bit of an exaggerator or dramatist. Thankfully it wasn't broken, just sprained as Roxx said. From his estimate, if I kept it braced and stayed off of it as much as I could for about a week or two, I should be as good as new. Honestly, I was as surprised as you to discover that nothing was broken. Kind of felt like a weeny with all the groaning I had done. Other than the bump on my head—the swelling had gone down within the first two nights thanks to the Ibuprofen Roxx had found in one of the med kits in the bunker—I was basically in one piece. I may be bruised and scraped, but that was it. Nothing too serious.
And that was a miracle. I didn't bother rewrapping my ankle. I was too drained from limping my way two miles uphill in the rain and wind to really care about wrapping it up. Plus, I didn't really want to waste the spare cloth I had for my ankle. Fabric was hard to come by and every little bit was valuable. The clothes draped over my chair to air dry—yeah, those—were my only good pair of clothes. I had two others but they had holes in the armpits and along the back. Rats had gotten in a few months back and destroyed the place. I took care of the pests though.
They weren't coming back anytime soon, that's for sure. My stomach growled, my alarm clock of the body reminding me of the hunger I was still a slave to. The corn Roxx and I had feasted on two nights ago was a pallid memory by now. My body had briskly sucked up those nutrients and distributed them to the highest priority extremities. As you might imagine, it didn't go far.
I was hungry within hours and the ache in my stomach had only worsened as my taste buds savored the memory of the juicy starch they had bitten into for the first time in their life. Once was enough to make me a believer. Corn was the food of the gods.
The cramping in my abdomen intensified until I was balled up in the fetal position. Lightning struck nearby, sending an electric sonic boom through the hut and into my waiting eardrums. The hut rattled violently and nearly knocked me off the cot. I felt my head spinning as my equilibrium tried to adjust. The ringing stayed with me all night as I tossed and turned through the storm.
As I lay there in pain, discomfort, and in the clutches of vertigo, an idea sprung into my mind. That's what I’ll do. Roxx asked me to look after his shop while he was gone. Well, I would do just that and some. If that gentleman returned, I would be sure to ask him about his next shipment. Or better yet, how he got it. The Fields were a dangerous place and were fenced in by a fifteen-foot-high wall that enclosed the entire vicinity. It was highly guarded and patrol rovers streamed around the outer wall on a daily basis. The seven watchtowers were the Angels of the Sky, looking down on the ants of the world. They could see everything from miles out. How he ever made it into the Fields and ou
t alive was beyond me. It was down right impressive! I'd definitely be having a private discussion with him if I ever saw him again. And I was counting on it. Storms always brought in new wares and gossip.
And as the new day dawned, I would discover I was right. Rain was not the only thing the storm had brought in on the wind. If you never believed in God before, you would now. Like I said, I'm a new believer. With hope being the only source of life we have left to hold on to, you believe in pretty much anything that makes your life a little easier. And I'm not letting go of it.
≈ Chapter 12 ≈
The storm had brought gifts.
The tin roof was battered all night by rainfall as the sky poured its crying cheeks on us. The tapping was softer now. The rain must be letting up. The pitter-patter only dabbled the top every so often as if the clouds were shaking off the last strands of residue from its locks of hair. I hadn't slept much all night, constantly being rattled awake by the sound of lightning splintering the sky. It sounded as if the storm had taken position over my hut and unleashed its chorus solely onto me. I must be special or very unlucky. I had tumbled painfully onto the ground no more than three times. Eventually, I just lay there, too weak and frustrated to lift myself back to the car cushions that were my bed.
I pried my sticky body off the dirt and cracked my door an inch and peaked through. The sludge of red clay piled waist high on the other side kept me from pushing any further. I closed the door and latched the bolt. The last thing I wanted was for a large pile of wet mushy clay to come sweeping in on me while I wasn't paying attention.
I felt my clothes over my chair. Dry enough. I draped the damp shirt over my shoulders and squeezed my legs through the pant leggings. My left foot cringed as it slid through, but the pain was a bit better. It only felt like a hundred stabbing knives instead of a thousand. Progress was progress. Keep moving.
I tied off the metal stave against my ankle and wrapped the bandage back on my left wrist. The blood had clotted, but the gash was still fresh enough to easily pry open under the slightest of pressure. The ten stitches were tiny pokey zigzags made out of staples Roxx had found in the med kit. With no aesthetic, the procedure was, how shall we say it, heart felt. There'd definitely be a nasty scar once it healed.
I edged my door open, fully expecting the clay gunk to roll in, but there was nothing. To my amazement, the door slid right on through. What had happened to the waist-high mud from only a few moments ago? I shivered as a cold breeze engulfed me and swept into the hut. Its icy hands rushed over me as I stumbled back inside, closing the door. I could see my breath with each exhale. Was I dreaming? I draped my two other ragged tops over my shoulders and braved the new world a second time. As my foot crossed the threshold, it was as if I stepped through a portal and into a new dimension. My skin itched and bubbled up as the cold sucked right through the fabric. The sky hung low with black clouds, the sun dwarfed completely behind its curtain. A faint aura of grey hovered as if a fog was drifting through our precinct, but there was no fog. Just the whisper of what life could be like when the rain came.
With the second step I was falling. I managed to grab hold of the door handle to stop my slide. The road was gone. All of the shacks, old cars for homes, all the people who resided on this side of the precinct with me, were gone. In all directions, the road, the dirt, the hills were all several feet lower than before. All the piled-up sand—gone. All the tin roofs, telephone poles and wires, street lamps—gone. There was nothing, except me. I lowered myself into the rushing chasm that the flashflood had formed. The water came up to my knees and was ice cold. What in the world had happened? I turned and saw my shack, barely standing. Three-quarters of it was hanging near the edge of this newfound divot in the road, but was untouched. How it had not collapsed and washed away with the others, I have no clue. Like I said, I was either special or very unlucky. I don't know which one I'd rather be. The stream of cold murky water flowed where the road used to be and into town. As far as my eyes could see, there was nothing but the dark road of liquid, eroded dirt piled fifteen feet on either side, all the way to the Market. At least, where the Market should be. I hoped it was still there. From the way things were looking, I'd be surprised if anything of Precinct 11 was still standing. The storm had wiped everything out. A fear crept its way into the back of my mind as another tent of one of the other inhabitants of Precinct 11 floated by. Was anyone still alive?
I climbed out of the mud pit and back into my shack. I latched the bolt and rubbed my arms. The chattering of my teeth sounded like an Oldsmobile petering out on the last drops of oil in the tank. I hopped on one leg to try and get the blood flowing, but with my feet soaked, getting any amount of warmth was impossible. Instead, I decided to do the next best thing: go back outside.
I balanced on the edge of the shack so I wouldn't slide back into the water. My feet found solid ground and I made my way along the border of the River of Precinct 11. I guess as the only person here, I got to name it, considering it stayed longer than a day. Turns out, it would.
The clouds overhead continued to pour their substance on me as I made my slow and painful way down the river and into town, my teeth chattering the entire way.
≈ Chapter 13 ≈
The river cut right through the heart of the precinct and I was trapped on the other side.
The closer I got to the Market, the harder the going went. I yanked my foot out of the thick muddy clay for the thousandth time. I was covered in red mud all the way up to my elbows, and most of my chest was smeared by the red mush too. If I ever made it to the Market, I'd be lucky if anyone recognized me for a human being. And after the sudden and rare storm, they may even be led to believe I was some Martian that had emerged or been swept in by the flood.
Speaking of flood, the stream I had been following as my map route to the precinct's epicenter was dwindling and had turned from a murky brown to a sedate grey. White foam bubbled on the surface as the current rushed violently against the banks. My face was splashed several times by the white spray. My fingers were red from the sting of the cold and the mud.
The rain clouds cracked open their buckets once more and began to drop penny-sized rain droplets. They battered the back of my legs and arms as I hobbled as quickly as I could. When I finally arrived to the center of the precinct, half of the buildings and shacks were gone. And instead of a red Martian creature, I was only a mangy wad of cloth. At least the mud was gone.
I saw people wandering around like ghosts lost in orbit. Some stood by the edge of the water just staring, as if they were contemplating ending it all right then and there. Others held each other and cried for the loved ones they had lost in the night. I saw small groups huddled in different locations like statues. Some were on their knees, others had their hands held to their faces, while others shook their fists at the dark clouds looming overhead. Seeing as there was nothing left standing here, I assumed this was where their homes once were. The rest of the remaining populace was busy constructing some platform near the fountain. When I got closer, I noticed it was a bridge and they were lifting it on three pulleys to try and lower it across the chasm the flash flood had formed. Good timing. Having finally arrived, my path came to an abrupt halt. The river of muddy water continued on for miles in three different directions as the ravine branched out into outlets, each one wreaking its own havoc on the way. I had no idea how the other precincts were fairing right now. Chances were, not good. My thoughts were snapped back to my own reality when the first construction beam smashed only a body’s length away from where I was standing.
‘Get out of the way!’ one of the Sifters was yelling at me. He and four others were waving their arms violently, pointing in the air. I saw what they were indicating and quickly dove out of the way of the second heavy beam falling from the sky. Its metal body smashed only inches from my face, sending large chunks of muddy dirt into my face and eyes. As I squished my way back to my feet, I rekindled my Martian image. I shook as much of the mud o
ff my hands and shirt as I could, but gave up trying. Looked like I was destined to be a red monster today. Might as well embrace it.
A group of Metallics were lowering another beam, and this time I made sure I wasn't anywhere near its descent. Men were yelling orders as they slowly lowered the beams. Three more beams soon followed in perfect succession, connecting both sides of the gorge. I watched as several of the Sifters balanced themselves along the beams and laid metal sheets on either end to form a base.
‘Are you okay?’ one of them asked as they made landfall on my side.
‘Sure,’ I said, looking at my red body.
He nodded and kept on. No acknowledgement. Welcome to my world.
I slipped my way across the makeshift bridge and onto the other side. I felt a sense of relief the moment my feet hit mushy ground. My ankle wasn't hurting much and I wondered if it had acquired frostbite. I hobbled over to the fountain and sat down. I retracted my pant leg and saw that my provisional brace was holding firm. Minus the slight discoloration of the skin, all was good. I rolled the fabric back down and stuffed it into my boot sleeve. Exhaustion swept over me as I sat there on the concrete circle. I didn't realize how tired I was from walking in the mud. It really takes it out of you.
The clouds above were still unleashing their grace on us. My head felt like it was being pelted by a bunch of tiny pellets. I scanned through the entourage of rain droplets for Roxx's shop. With half of the Market Square obliterated on the west, I was surprised anything was left standing. The familiar enclave caught my eye and I couldn't suppress a smile. I pushed myself off the concrete fountain and sloshed my way through the mud towards the shop. I kicked my boots on the edge of the wooden porch before entering. But when my hand grabbed the handle, I found it locked. The shop was never locked. Roxx must be gone still. I knew of a back door so I skirted around the side of the shop and found the little cubbyhole. It wasn't really a door, more an opening in the paneling. I'm not even sure Roxx knew of its existence. I squeezed my soaked frame through the crack after peering around to ensure no unwelcome peeping toms were nearby. My body tumbled through the ventilation shaft on the other side with a noisy bang. If Roxx, or anyone for that matter, was home they definitely knew I was here now. I lifted myself into a squat and waited. My ears were straining for the minutest of sounds, but with the rain outside picking up, the tin roof echoed loudly into the shop. I could hear nothing.
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