RAIN

Chapter eleven

He looked up from the waterlogged cell phone he was holding in his hands and looked at Rain. Laughter trickled out of him until he was roaring in laughter. Jet stared at him, the weight of his frustration growing, crushing every speck of hope in his heart.
"I told you, didn't I? This place is cursed," Rain said, his cynical laughter had started to die down.
"And I told you, I don't believe in curses. It's just me not thinking."
"Hmm...you know, it took me five months to save enough money to buy that phone."
"Yeah? Well, I guess I owe you. When we get to Tammut, I'll buy you a better one."
"Deal."
"So, you're coming with me then?" He grinned.
"I never said that."
Jet smiled loudly, as he dropped the phone into the bag. He huffed and then pouted as he weighed his options.
The lantern's flame flickered and sputtered, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Suddenly, a thunderous bang echoed from the other side of the heavy doors, sending Jet and Rain launching toward each other in panic. They stood frozen, scarcely daring to breathe as their apprehension grew. The doors rattled, dust drifting down from the ancient wood. Slowly, they realized it was only an unfortunate object getting tossed by an angry gust. They turned to each other, eyes locked in wonder, and then a snicker escaped Jet's throat. Rain managed a smile as the fear dissipated.
"Scared?" Jet said to tease him. He looked at their hands, tightly knitted together.
"You held me first!" Rain accused him.
"Yeah, that's because you looked like you were going to have a heart attack."
He winked, his ego still intact. Rain shook his head at his taunting.
"Why don't I build us a fire? I have blankets in my bag. We can lay them on the floor and get some sleep."
Rain nodded, finally letting go of him. He stepped back, avoiding Jet's eyes.
"There's some protein bars in there and some water sachets. You're free to help yourself."
"Thank you," Rain said with a smile.
"You know what's behind that door?" Jet asked as he pointed toward the mysterious door behind the rubble. Rain followed his finger and then shook his head.
"No. I never went past it. My father used to bring me here sometimes, and then we'd head to the beach to our little restaurant. My parents cooked fresh lobster and fish and sell to locals and tourists."
"Sound like happy memories."
He was happy to relive some pleasant memories with him.
"They are. That's all they could be now. Memories." His eyes trailed off, and Jet wondered what he was thinking of. "This temple is ancient, you know?"
"Oh? How old is it?"
"Three hundred years. The first people to settle on this coast built it. My grandfather was a senior member here before the flood. When I was little, there were a lot of celebrations and festivals. It was a happy moment. Well, at least, whatever I can remember."
"You know, Rain, you're life doesn't have to stay this way. Take a chance and leave with me. My family will take care of you. You can take your cousins with you."
"It's not that simple."
"Of course it is. You're just making it difficult."
Rain was silent. His eyes strayed across the floor as he considered Jet's words. The dispassion that dominated his personality was momentarily superseded by a trace of happiness. A trace of hope rose in Jet's heart that he could save Rain from this wicked place.

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The crackling and popping of the fire pulled him from his half-sleep state. His eyes shot open with a start as his sub-conscience convinced him that the man with the machete was standing at the mysterious door.
He blinked, the image of the slab of wood holding the doors shut came into focus, and he smiled in relief.
He turned his head to look at Rain as he slept beside him. The sadness staining his personality had been pushed far aside by the tranquility of sleep. Jet wondered what dream filled his head that he looked so peaceful as he lay there admiring him. He moved a clump of hair away from his face, mesmerized by how perfect he was. Jet's heart started racing in his chest, a wild pining growing in his heart. He could no longer control the budding attraction.
He sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. The howl of the wind outside the wooden door sparked thoughts of supernatural things in his head. The eeriness of being trapped in this desolate place was too much for him to ignore. Suddenly, he was thinking of his own mortality.
He looked toward the fire as it threw its warmth toward them. His eyes drifted along the old stone walls and then toward the mysterious door hidden behind the rubble.
He threw the blanket off his body and climbed down from the altar. He walked to the door, pausing to look at Rain. There were no movements other than the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He was lost somewhere in his dreams, and Jet hoped it was something pleasant. He smiled, still unable to stop himself from admiring him.
He turned back to the rubble. It was mainly shards of wood from destroyed buildings. He started clearing a path toward the door. Jet knew it was not wise to allow his curiosity to win, but he couldn't control the need to know. He was eager to learn what was back there and where that sound of water was coming from.
Taking one last look at Rain to reassure himself that he was still asleep, Jet reached for the doorknob, his grip shaking free some of the rust that was eating it away. The door provided no resistance and as he stepped inside, a musty, rotten smell struck him. The circular glow of the small flame from the lantern revealed a room that looked like some massive dining hall.
Jet stopped just inside the door and scanned the room. A rectangular table, flagged with chairs, cut through the center of the room. Some of the chairs had toppled to the ground. Some were still in place, and others hurriedly pulled away from the table.
On one end of the room was a wall covered with framed photos and news articles. On the other side was a kitchen area where the meals that fed the people who sat at this table were perhaps prepared.
Jet started to understand now. He presumed that over his head were probably bedrooms where the monks and their students would live. He began to imagine what their lives must have been like before that flood robbed them of it and a sadness darkened over him.
He walked over to the kitchen area. Under the thick coat of dust and cobwebs lay cans and jars of preserved food. There were mummified fruits and vegetables sitting in bamboo baskets. It was like walking into an ancient tomb where time had stood still for centuries and no life, other than the bacteria and mold, existed.
Two large pots sat on the stove, drawing his attention, but he wasn't brave enough to look inside. He continued examining the room. Picking up a dust-covered spoon on the table, he tried to imagine what they were preparing to eat when the surge came in. He shrugged and put the spoon down. Feeling satisfied with his investigation of the kitchen area, he walked to the other side of the room to look at the pictures and articles.
The first picture his eyes fell on almost made his heart stop in his chest. Fear gripped him, and his legs became overcooked noodles as he stared into the cold, inanimate eyes of Rain's grandfather. He was standing next to some monks, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a pair of grey slacks. His mustache curled to perfection, and a gold watch adorned his wrist. His appearance was quite dapper and sharp.
Jet's eyebrows creased, a hundred questions waking in his mind. Another picture showed the grandfather standing, side by side, with a woman, an arm causally draped across her shoulders by habit. She was petite, her black hair fashioned into a stylish bun. She wore a beautiful red business suit that accentuated her sophistication. Her resemblance to Rain was enough for him to understand who this woman was. They seemed to be rather distinguished, financially stable people. So, what happened to them?
His eyes traveled to another picture on the wall. This one made his heart leap to his throat. His breathing grew fast and erratic. He stepped back with his mouth hanging open. He shook his head in disbelief and then he stepped forward again. He leaned in for a closer inspection of the picture. He blinked, but nothing he did changed the image of his grandfather standing next to Rain's grandfather. A moment frozen in time by a person holding a camera.
Jet inhaled deeply to calm himself before inspecting the picture. The two men, engaged in a handshake, wore proud smiles. Behind them was a restaurant called 'The Lobster Shack'. He focused on a blond-haired woman standing behind a counter in the foreground, with a red apron tied around her waist.
He turned to the articles on the wall for any clues. Some were in frames, and others were glued to the wall. The first article was about the Suriya and Mannan family donating a large sum of money to the temple for general repairs.
Jet's heart was beating in his chest. His body quivered as he read the article beside it. This one was about the fiftieth anniversary of a massive storm that rocked this area, destroying everything in its path.
Jet chuckled. This place wasn't cursed. It was simply in a location frequented by typhoons. Next to the article was a picture. He could make out the names of some shops, The Lobster Shack, The One Stop Gift Shop, Franz Grill and Bar. The lobster shack resounded in his head, and he couldn't stop thinking it was Rain's parents' establishment.
Another article started painting a clearer picture, and Jet understood who the Suriya family was. They owned a remarkable quantity of real estate in this town. More shockingly, Phayu Suriya seemed to be a respectable man. Jet began to wonder about what sort of circumstances could lead a man like this to go so crazy that he wanted to kill his own grandson.
He jumped as a glint of light struck his eyes. He searched the room. He turned and found himself staring out a window. The glass was caked in dust and grime, so he had missed it before the lightning revealed it to him.
He walked to the window and used the back of his hand to wipe some of the grime away so that he could see outside. The rain had slowed quite a bit, but the wind was still hammering the trees. Down the sloping landscape, lights flickered in the trees.
Jet got closer to the glass and observed the group of people. He quickly realized that they were not searching for him and Rain. They were carrying something to the bog. From this window, he could see his car slowly being swallowed by water, and the road was almost gone. The realization that he was cut off from society took its effects on him.
His eyes returned to the procession as they cleared a thick patch of mangrove trees. Jet felt his stomach knot with a fear so tangible that he couldn't breathe. He focused on the thing wrapped in a white sheet, being hauled by a group of men. It was not just any procession, he realized. It was a funeral procession, and it would end in the bog.
He could not pull himself away from the terrifying sight. They sunk into the water, carrying the body with them. Jet's heart was racing, and his breath fogged the glass. He wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt. The aunt and her father were standing on the bank of the bog as the procession continued. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The gesture reminded Jet of the picture with the man and his wife. Jet's curiosity was becoming overwhelming.
What happened to this man, and what was his connection to the Mannan family?
He watched them all bow their heads. It was like watching some bizarre ritual being played out right before his eyes. They were praying.
Jet wondered about the unfortunate soul about to be buried in that murky, hellish place. He thought back to the skull that he had discovered in the water. Maybe that was a previous victim.
The grandfather let go of his daughter and walked into the water. He waded past the men with their heads bowed around the body. He had something in his hands that soon revealed itself as a flag to Jet. His blood ran cold in his veins as he watched the man tie the flag to a tree, adding one more to the forty or so flags that were already there, fluttering wildly in the wind. The suffocating thought of where he had been when he first found himself in this hell surfaced in Jet's mind. His stomach churned violently.
A sound suddenly stole his attention, and he focused on it. Lifting his head to the sky, the chopping roar of a helicopter droned in. A feeling of utter relief washed over him. He watched the massive search light make the people in the bog scatter like cockroaches, the body they were carrying left to sink to the bottom. Jet couldn't believe his luck. Now, he needed to find a way to get their attention.