Rain From Hell || ONC 2024

Chapter One

{Brynn's POV}

A solitary sound drifted through the room, the white noise droning on in my ears before I registered words coming from the reporter's mouth.

"Since Russia declared war upon Israel three months ago, tensions have never been higher. Alliances between Russia and the Arab states have fostered a growing resentment, and the future repercussions appear dire. Moreover, the front lines of battle between Russia and Israel continue, strained and dysfunctional. Oil shortages throughout the US and other first-world countries have not assisted in easing tensions.

"And although the US has attempted to acquire another natural resource, most efforts have been fruitless. As our diplomats earnestly negotiate the exportation and importation of these goods, NATO countries are becoming divided. Oil trade has lost unity. The esteemed producers will either pick a side. Or perhaps the war will pick it for them.

"Still, the US continues sending supplies to Israel, a vow of neutrality founded upon our long history and past global reputation. There is a back-and-forth here: one point for our allies and another for the enemy. It is an ever-going cycle of modern warfare, and Russia's new technological developments are looking increasingly concerning—better nuclear bombs than we have seen in all history.

"People are getting restless. Watching. Listening. Waiting. The United State's legislature has a decision to make. A vow of neutrality cannot last in this war, not when a total war scheme plagues our cities and factories and schools. When and if the United States deploys ground troops, there will be no solution. Zero. The price to pay would make prior world wars seem trivial, like child's play. If this escalates into a Third World War—"

"Brynn, could you please turn that down and help me?"

There she stood. My mother, in all her aged beauty, leaned against the kitchen island with a pointed look on her face. I sighed and did as I was told, happy to have a distraction from the news playing repeatedly on the sixty-five-inch flatscreen TV.

I was sick of all this crap.

Turning around on my stool, I gazed into my mother's ocean blue eyes, creased from acclimated stress over the years while she was a diplomat. She still was, actually.

"Alright, what do you—whoa." Bags of fresh, healthy ingredients littered the granite countertop. My eyes widened. "What's all this?"

With all the food shortages nowadays, the sight of not a microwaveable pizza was foreign. She didn't buy quality food unless...

It was as if she could see the gears turning in my mind because Mom offered a small smile.

"Is he actually coming home?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral. The last thing I needed was to get my hopes up. If I've learned anything, it's to expect disappointment. That is the only thing people are capable of these days. Disappointing.

"If all goes well, we can expect him to arrive in time for dinner."

Adam. My brother was coming home.

It had been four months since I last saw him. He left for Howard just after the holidays, and while I definitely didn't miss him, it would be great to see my future engineer brother again. I couldn't let university in D.C. get to his head like our uncle had, our only family member who took nearly the same path as Adam just a few years before.

Uncle Jonah was currently helping manufacture Abrams to send overseas. They were very complex tanks, according to what I read online, but with increased censorship, who knows how much of it is actually true?

"Cut up these potatoes, will you?" Mom handed me a knife. Peering into the bags, I allowed myself a small gasp. Potatoes, ham, celery, square noodles... our all-time favorite. Ham. Pot. Pie. Mom's style.

Mom grew up in Pennsylvania, and it was where I was born before moving to West Virginia. Then, ten years after having me, she was elected as a Representative for the House. She was in her third term, which started nearly two years ago and was almost over.

"Did he say why he's driving back up so early?" I asked, not looking at my mother. Peel cut, cut peel. Eye after eye, potato after potato. I zoned out and concentrated on not slicing my fingers. Without being asked to, I filled a large pot with water, setting it on the gas stove to boil.

"It's not safe being out there so close to the capitol. Things are..." she trailed off, hesitant. Oh, well, of course she would be. Because I'm too weak to hear such news, too fragile to handle the whole conflict. Ha! If only Mommy dearest knew of the things I was capable of...

I wordlessly turned the TV back up, wanting to hear the news as I finished boiling the potatoes with the ham. Mom already had three plates set out. It almost felt strange seeing three plates there instead of two. While it'd only been four months, it felt like much more time had passed. First, there were four, then three, for some time two, and now, all three of us will be back together again.

My ears perked up when I heard the sound of wheels on gravel. I inhaled deeply, my lungs filling with polluted air like balloons, before calmly walking to the front door and peering through the window. The familiar Cerulean 2015 Honda was now parked outside the garage, and I watched as Adam slowly exited the car. He looked up and saw me through the window, offering an amused smile.

I laughed and threw the door wide open as if saying, welcome home, big brother!

He opened his small trunk and pulled out his ugly faded bags, the black so faded they looked army green. Despite the fresh coat of paint, you could tell this car was old. It was about seventeen years old when he bought it for a cheap price three years ago. Honestly, I'm surprised that piece of junk still works.

"Nice of you to show up," I commented.

He heaved one last suitcase out of the back and slammed the trunk shut before looking at me. "Yeah, well, sometimes you just need to be with your family. Besides," he added, a glint in his eyes, "nothing beats Mom's home-cooked meals." Adam sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose.

The smell of rotten eggs lingered in the air, even after the detox. We have been doing those a lot recently, with the government issuing them as mandatory to "preserve what little we have left of this earth and prevent further damage due to climate change", but I personally didn't believe they do much. Who cares what I think, though? I'm just an innocent sixteen-year-old girl.

"Oh, so you knew about the pot pie?" I shook my head, smiling. "Heck, you were the one who suggested it, weren't you?"

"You bet!" he called over his shoulder, walking into the house.

"Oh, baby! How was the drive?" Mom embraced Adam as if she hadn't seen him in years. He smiled and kissed her on the cheek before moving straight to the kitchen to take in the aroma of pot pie. My stomach growled, and it was only now that I realized how hungry I was.

Oops. I forgot to eat breakfast and lunch. Again.

"Hey, sis. Think fast!" He grabbed one of the semi-aged mangos and tossed it to me.

I caught it without hesitation.

Code Mango: a special way we discreetly communicated how we were doing. If I moved it to my other hand, I was okay. Toss it in the air, I needed to talk. Switch back and forth between hands, I was nervous. It had been a long time since Adam called upon the Code, with him being so busy with college and me trying to make my way through high school... Wow. Had it really been that long since we last had a real conversation?

I toss it into the air before catching it and setting it back in the fruit bowl.

"Come on, time to eat!" Mom called. The steaming meal was already on our plates, beckoning us to scarf down every last bite. As I sat down, I took note of every feature. The lining of the table cloth, the way Adam's eyes sparkled when telling a tale, how Mom fidgeted her hands under the table when focused on listening.

My chest felt lighter. It was as if life was offering me a balloon so I could fly up into the sky, away from the chaos, to home, to safety.

This was home, my family, and all of us were together at last.