Hades Ain't Got Nothing on Us

Ch. 1 - Equinox

1

EQUINOX

There wasn't supposed to be anything exceptional about today. On paper, it was another Wednesday, March morning. Second semester, junior year. Back to the mid-week grind, too early to celebrate the weekend, and too far removed from the last to grumble about it being over too soon.

Rob Manthorne awoke with the sun as he did every day. At least, he thought that was his practice. It was hard to tell, since he had not physically seen the sun for six months. Today, he knew for sure when a white light charged through his bedroom window, nearly blinding him with its intensity. He was not prepared for such a rude awakening. It had been so arctic that his curtains were always open, welcoming every ounce of light that survived the fog. Chilling cold and unrelenting cloudiness were foreign to the one-note climate of Santa Monica, California.

Sealed with draft guards, the windows trapped the sunbeams in the room, uninhibited by the lack of frost on the windowsill. Rob gladly peeled off the sweatshirt and cardigan he'd added in the iciness of the night. Winter was harsh this year, but it would only live on in the history books. As abrupt an arrival as it was, some semblance of warmth had finally returned to the atmosphere.

More than a semblance, the mounting heat was overpowering.

Rob had to throw his entire body into the window to get it open. The suction of the guards popped and the hinges cracked from atrophy. The delicate breeze was ripe with damp vegetation and the abundance of oxygen.

"Huh," he said to no one.

Overnight, the leafless trees had erupted into a kaleidoscope of greenery. Rob squinted through the colors to see his paper on the walkway, not wrapped in plastic. With the constant threat of rain gone, the neighborhood was alive again. Cats sunned themselves on their backs, sprawled on the porches of the townhouse complex. Birds assembled on the power lines with a sweeter song than the previous choir's, and squirrels darted across patches of grass, which seemed a deeper green than usual.

On tiptoe past his sister's room, Rob also noticed that the flame lily their parents sent from Africa had blossomed. It was the first flower he'd seen in months, and it mimicked the sun in its vibrant yellow and orange tones.

Changes were not limited to flora and fauna; the anchor woman's effervescence broke through the television screen and shook Rob by his shoulders to the point of nausea. It was a lovely day and all, but the last time he checked, the 5 o'clock news was not a musical program. After an extensive search, Rob found the remote beneath his sister's homework, just before the reporter announced something very interesting.

"Happy first day of spring."

Rob put the remote down.

That offered some explanation, but not for the fact that Mother Nature was working off a different timetable from botanical science. This vernal season seemed in a particular rush to announce itself.

"After the coldest winter on record," she continued, "Los Angeles County is experiencing record highs, but that's not all. Erica Owen is standing by at the botanical gardens with more. Erica?"

"Thanks, Jennifer. In addition to the forty degree hike in temperatures, as you can see behind me, bare trees across the region have sprung full sets of leaves in one night. Yesterday these magnolias were only seedlings, these roses were dried thorny branches, and these tulips were bulbs a foot underground. If you looked up spring in the encyclopedia, it would be a snapshot of this flourishing garden."