Phoenix

The Ocean

As the sun rose over the Eastern horizon, Ash saw what was meant by an approaching storm. Up ahead, storm clouds gathered in dark billows, growing thicker and more wooly with each passing minute. Herald twirled like a wind-chime in a blizzard, his warning ca-caw'sgetting louder and more frequent. All five riders leaned low over their bikes, streamlined by a shared sense of urgency.

They rode for the whole day without stopping to eat or even relieve themselves. The sun heated their leathers, turning them into a molten second-skin. They rode fast and by mid-afternoon, Ash could feel every bump and dip in the earth like a rubber boot flogging her backside.

Just when the journey became unbearable, the air thickened and cooled, carrying with it a tangy brine scent. If Ash listened carefully, she could hear a hollow echo up ahead like the sound of a cupped hand over an ear. The landscape evolved and soon they were weaving through shrubs, tyres making tracks in oatmeal top sand.

Over a ridge, around a rocky outcrop with shocks of purple flowers sprouting from its seams, across a pebbly plain of earth, there it was. Where the earth fell away, crumbling into a steep cascading cliff of burnt orange, a carpet of blue extended to the sky ...

The ocean.

Ash's body went rigid, the knuckles of her spine locked straight as a lamp post. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she think she'd see the ocean. It had always been a faraway fable in her mind, an elusive idea that existed only in the regurgitated stories passed from trader to miner to stall holder, to snoopy orphan on window-washing duty. But here was now, in all its terrifying vastness—a living, breathing monster, frothing and seething, flashing white, hungry teeth. Ash was reminded of the time she'd had her head stuffed in a toilet bowl and flushed over. For a split second, she'd made the mistake of opening her eyes to the turmoil and had almost thrown up into the rushing spinning chaos.

She felt the same way now, the need to shut her eyes, block out the opaqueness of colour which was blinding when compared to the homogeneous palate of the desert. There were no straight lines to guide her sight, no boxes to make sense of the patterns, no inertness to anchor her gaze as there had been in the city. Just fingers of sunlight splayed through blooming pumice clouds and crests of white like the manes of horses stampeding towards the craggy cliff face.

The horses drove head first into the craggy rock wall and exploded with a ripping, gnashing hiss that sounded too much like her name—Ash, Ash, Ash. Mist mingled with sunlight to birth little rainbows, the unlikely love children of rock and water.

They drove along the jagged cliff until they reached an angled nook in the rock which, to the casual onlooker might've seemed like nothing more than another crack in the facade. But Eli, Shorty, Gunner and Miki had other ideas. Slowing down, they carefully threaded their bikes along the nook, meeting a concealed track that led them down to a pebbled cove. As they descended, the temperature dropped to an uncomfortable chill and the wind quietened to a distant yowl.

Eli cut the engine, so all that could be heard was the sound of lapping waves. He hoisted himself off the bike and held out his hand to help her do the same. The gesture looked suspicious—a protruding angle that had locked itself into position almost by accident. So many years at the orphanage had taught her not to trust other people's hands, for who knew what suspicious substances they'd rubbed on their skin prior to the offering.

Out of habit, she ignored his offer of help in favour of a stiff-legged, ungainly dismount. Eli ran the hand through his hair and for a split second, Ash wondered if she'd offended him. But then she reminded herself how many times she'd leaned on Eli already. Far too many times. And she certainly didn't want him to start thinking she owed him anything.