The Enigma

01.Black Rain

The black rain fell for a week, then stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Hours after it had ceased its drumming on the roof of our house, I threw open the shutter and stuck my head out looking up at the sky.

"Maya," my mum cried out, her pitch growing higher with panic, "what are you doing? You know you're supposed to wait for the All Clear."

"I know, I know," I responded, with my head still outside, "but it's safe now. The rain's gone and I can see blue sky. Well mostly blue anyway. Some people are outside already."

That last bit wasn't a lie, exactly. I was certain that some people were outside. The fact that I couldn't see any of them from the window was a minor detail as far as I was concerned.

I can't wait to see my friends, I almost went mad locked inside.

I propped the shutter open to let the light in. I itched to throw open the door as well, and to run laughing up the street.

A week cooped up inside with just my mother and Grandpa to talk to had made me as restless as a teenager can be.

A week of waiting for the rain to stop. A week of nothing to do - for even mum could only find so many chores to keep me occupied.

The black rain was - well, that was the point. No-one knew what it was.

We only knew that when it fell we had to get indoors and stay there for as long as was necessary. It wasn't like ordinary rain and its sharp putrid smell almost made your nose curl and your body quiver in disgust.

According to what we'd been told, it was poisonous, if you drank it or were exposed to it - well no one I knew had actually put that to the test. Not even Kai, and he's the most adventurous guy I know.

As to what causes the rain, or where it comes from, that's a mystery. Sometimes Grandpa starts muttering about scientists, a virus and a cure that was worse than the disease, but he does so in a disjointed and rambling way that never seems to make any sense. Hardly anything he says does. I wish I'd known him before his Alzheimer's.

A crackling hiss of a sound filled the streets, which was the usual prelude to an announcement over the broadcasting system.

The nearest speaker to our house is just across the street. When I was young, I used to think that the Mayor was talking to me directly. The speakers wheezed into life, and gave a shrill screech of feedback, and then we heard the voice of the Mayor, calmly announcing that the black rain had passed, and that it was safe for us to leave our homes, provided we exercised due caution.

As it always did, Arcadia came to life very quickly after the black rain - it wasn't just teenagers who got frustrated at being cooped up for days on end. Everywhere shutters were being thrown up, stores were being opened, and people were greeting each other with enthusiasm, or looking up at the bluish sky and taking deep breaths of pure clean air. They were all careful to step around the black puddles that had formed in the potholed streets, but otherwise they tried to make it look as though it was a normal day.

The deafening silence that accompanied the black rain was diminished by children running around in their torn, outdated shoes. The sounds of a bustling market filled the air. A public library of sights and smells brought to life by its buzzing activity. This was my town, Arcadia.

Squinting at the sun's glare, I stood outside my house on the boggy soil waiting for my friends, who'd promised to visit once the black rains had ceased, to arrive.

"Hey guys! I shouted at them, smiling and waving.

It's about time I got some fresh air.

"Hi Maya. You look great!," exclaimed Karen.