Simoom Rising

Chapter Five

Pit District, Simoom
Five years ago

Harmony

Something weird happened—not that I knew it was happening at the time. It was the height of blizzard season with only short periods between dust storms—a day, or only a few hours. I remember a calm afternoon, about a week before Sila got sick. Everybody came out of their hovels and shacks and started walking down the slope. Me and the kids didn't know what was going on, but my landlady invited us along, and so we went. At the bottom of the Pit, a crowd had gathered in front of these five, well I don't know what else to call them but, totem poles made out of scraps of rusted metal and battered plastic. They looked like giant Pit Pats. My landlady told me to hold the kids back and not to walk past the poles.

"Why? What's going on?" I go to her.

But she shushed me. In front of us, small groups of people walked forward carrying body-shaped bundles—some small and some big.

"What are they, Mom?" Travers asked beside me.

The landlady answered. "There's always a few who don't make it in blizzard season. So, when it's calm, we come down and feed'm to the sink holes and raise a glass."

"Jeez," I whispered, tightening my grip on my kids' hands. "Sink holes?"

She jiggled her head and cackled. "Bottomless they are—and awfully hungry." She offered me her flask of home brew and I took it.

In small family groups people brought their bundles and placed them in the orange sand just past the totem poles. There was at least seven or eight bundles—one really tiny one.

"Preemie," the landlady whispered to me. "Born two days ago."

If this was a wake, it was a silent one. We all stood around, many swigging from flasks and others weeping, and watched the bundles one by one disappear into the sand as if they had never been.

Then, with the wind picking up again, people began drifting back up the slope and into their shelters.

But not me, I stood with my now restless kids, just staring at the sink holes.

When I didn't move, the landlady tugged at my arm. "We should go. There's another blizzard coming, I can taste it."

I shrugged her off. I was rooted to the spot. I couldn't leave. Did I know that I'd be returning to the sink holes? No, I can't say that I did. But the thought of all those lost people...I was in some sort of end-of-the-world horror film and I just couldn't move.

"Missus, best get inside now with your kids," the woman goes—almost shouted and then tugged on me again. "Missus, do you hear me?"

I blinked away tears, and said without turning: "Travers, please take Sila back to the room. I'll be there in a bit."

"But Mum, I don't want to—"

The landlady sighed. "I'll take'm back. Come on, Sweetie." She grabbed hold of Sila, who shrieked and bit down hard on the woman's hand.

"Goddamn it!" yelled the landlady.

I bent and scooped up my little girl. I felt feverish, bone tired, my lips were cracked, my face was covered in lines of scratchy orange sand stuck there by the tears I didn't know I was shedding. "Travers, you go—go back to the room."

But Travers refused and glued himself to my side.

The landlady tried again: "What about the storm?"

"Screw the storm," I muttered. I tipped my head up and yelled to the sky: "The storm can bloody well wait for us!"

The sound of my words, like a blast, made the landlady step back. She looked at me, as if deciding something. Then she nodded her head and said before turning to leave: "I expect it can, Missus, I expect it can."

And it did—that was the weird thing—it did. I don't remember how long me and the kids stayed around the totem poles, but I do remember how calm it was. I remember taking our time walking back to the boarding house. I remember seeing sunlight and thinking the air felt cleaner. I remember Sila giggling and Travers smiling. The next grey blizzard didn't start until we were safely back in our room and tucked into bed. The sound of the wind that night was like a whisper. The regular loud rattling of the roof and walls was replaced by a gentle rocking—the sound of howling by this low keening. It was as if I had scolded the dust and it was saying sorry.