Escaping the Rainfield (Behind the Scenes)

A Peek into Escaping the Rainfield

      As a child, I had always enjoyed splashing in puddles and feeling the rain tickle my cheek bones, but today the puddles felt like a death trap as they slowly consumed the contents of the store. I moved to the next aisle dodging the floating boxes of cereal and stubbing my toe on what may have been a rather large can of soup. It was hard to identify anything in the grey waters.

I scanned the shelves for anything that had not already been tampered with. Much of the food had been spoiled by the downpour or its contents had been torn from its container by the numerous people fighting over the little that was left on the shelves. Seeing nothing of edible value, I began to head to the next aisle but was startled by the sound of splashing from behind me. I turned to see a middle-aged woman working her way towards a box of goldfish on the top shelf. I was ten feet closer than she was, and in that instant, I made the decision to race to it myself. The water felt like bricks attached to my legs as I thrust myself towards the shelves. Gingerly, I placed a soggy foot on the shelf and reached for the box. As my hand grasped it, I felt a tug at my sweater that almost threw me into the watery depths. My hand tightened around the box, and I began to climb up and over the aisle. Her slippery fingers attempted to grasp my pant leg as I thrust myself out of her sight.

I landed with a large splash. Hurriedly, I tucked the box into my backpack and trudged onward. My heart was pounding in my ears as I fought back the tears and did my best to ignore my conscience. I rapidly scanned the next aisle, praying I could proceed without intervention. What lay before me was a sight that made my insides churn. I bit my cheek holding back a scream, my vision blurred, and I began to back away. I could just barely make out my reflection in the hazy water. I looked like a ghost with my rain coat and green eyes staring back at me. My auburn hair was a rat's nest and about the same shade as the hazy red water surrounding his limp, helpless body.

Turning, I took off in the direction of what I believed to be the exit, the haunting image pulsing through my brain. Colors whizzed by, and every sound nearly made me jump out of my skin. I whipped around another corner, causing my feet to lose traction. The filthy water rushed towards my face, but I never reached its surface.

A hand clasped around my backpack and yanked me upwards. Everything in my body told me to scream, but somehow I managed to keep my jaw clamped shut. The dark hand slowly turned me around to face its owner. I took a few steps back to allow my vision to refocus.

I felt like a hamster as I looked up at the tall, broad shadow of a man. His face was partially hidden by the hood, but I could see a tattoo peeking out slightly over the collar of his letterman jacket. His movements were fluid as he placed a hand behind my back and guided me forward. I held back a sniffle and began to contemplate any maneuvers that would increase my chance of escape.

"Hannah," he said, his voice dry and raspy.

I hesitated for a millisecond and prayed that he had not noticed my increasing uneasiness. I refused to look this stranger in the eye, but I couldn't help thinking: how does he know my name?

"Hannah," he repeated. "Are you alright? You look like you saw a ghost!"

Trembling, I paused to truly study my company. Embroidered across his jacket in red and gold were the words "Fair Field High" and '03 patched to his right shoulder. Puzzled, I shook my head and glanced at his face once more. His hood had slipped back and I could make out his large nose placed squarely between his deep blue eyes.

"Adrian," I whispered in relief.

"What are you doing here alone? Are you unaware of how dangerous this place is?" he asked. "My guess is that this is the worst place for a gal to be by herself right now."