Shadow Walker

The Storm

The storm gave a false start. At first it seemed there would be no storm at all. The air went pond-still and a dawn light rose in the east, casting a pale blue white wash over the city. The sirens ceased, even Adele's wailing gave way to a gentle, exhausted breathing. Dec unfurled from his crumple against the supporting pillar and looked around, careful not to turn his head too fast and inspire the return of his migraine.

He wondered how long he'd been sitting there, useless as a piece of decorative furniture, 'collecting dust' and estimated it would've had to have been about half an hour. But his palm pod was still lying discarded on the ground where he'd thrown it in frustration, so he couldn't check to be sure.

He glanced up at Adele, who was sitting in the same position, head between her knees and arms crossed over her head like a sleeping duck. He opened his mouth to call out to her when his breath caught in his throat and he almost choked. A woman stood behind her, so still, she'd faded into the concrete backdrop. She was dressed in black jeans and t-shirt and was staring down at his mother with pity-filled eyes, as one would look at the city's strays, or the homeless Nocturnals that gathered at the fringes of the city in old, run-down farmhouses.

The woman was Rain.

His hand flew to his neck, where her blade had imprinted its memory on his skin, and his eyes flicked between Rain and his mum, whose head was still tucked beneath her arms, oblivious to the imminent danger. Rain was within striking distance. There was nothing Dec could do to protect her. By the time he reached her, Rain could have any number of weapons pressed against her neck.

"Stay away from her," he said, knowing full well how ridiculous the command sounded.

Rain lifted her head to look at him, slowly, making it obvious she already knew he was there. She reached out and touched his mother's forehead. "Your mother has the Desert Sickness," she said as plaintively as if she was talking about the weather.

Dec lowered his voice to a growl. "Don't touch her."

Rain ignored him and proceeded to poke and prod his mother's vitals, starting with her temples, then moving to her neck, wrists and chest. "She needs medical attention," she said in her infuriating matter-of-fact tone.

"I know," Dec said. "Where do you think I've been trying to take her?"

Rain straightened to look at him. "And why didn't she go?"

"Because the doctors don't give a shit about us Southerners," he said, spitting a little in his anger. "But you wouldn't understand anything about that."

Rain went silent, and the silence opened up between them, so gaping, Dec began to wonder if he'd gone to far. But instead of sticking his mother with a knife, Rain transferred her gaze over his shoulder to where, on the other side of the underpass, the whitewash sky was rapidly darkening to a rust red. "The storm is almost here," she said. "We must find shelter." She bent down and slung Adele's waif arm over her shoulder, then heaved her to her feet, easily supporting Adele's feather light weight on her hip. "Follow me. I know a place." She began shuffling down the precarious concrete slope.

Dec experienced a moment of debilitating indecision. He didn't want to see his mother in Rain's arms. But he was also shocked that Rain could be so unconcerned about her proximity with his mother. Either she was the stupidest person he'd ever met, or she had no idea how risky it could be to so much as breathe the same air as a person affected with the mutated virus. "I wouldn't do that," Dec said, eyeing the proximity between the two women. "You might catch her sickness."

Rain frowned. "The virus cannot be transmitted between humans ... "

"I thought you would've heard," Dec interrupted. "The virus has mutated—"

"What?" Rain said.

"As in, it's developed so that—"

"I know what mutated means," Rain said. "I meant to ask, why do you think this?"

"It was on the news projections."

"Impossible," Rain said. "They're lying."

Dec frowned. She seemed so sure. Which made him wonder what else she knew about the Desert Sickness.

Before he could put any sense to his thoughts, a flash of dry lightning splintered the sky and a hot desert wind billowed through the overpass, bringing with it the smell of something strange, like a clay pot fresh from the kiln. The rust sky faded to black and the light in the tunnel seeped away. SolStore lamps on the street flickered on and off, unable to interpret the fast-changing light, which wavered between dawn and darkness as fine particle dust swirled in billows. A rumble of thunder swallowed up his thoughts.

By now, Rain was halfway to the other side of the overpass, still supporting Adele on her shoulder. And by the time he'd unstuck from his shock enough to follow, the wind was whistling through the overpass, bringing with it the dust and sand from the desert. Grit flew in Dec's eyes and caught in his teeth. As the wind grew stronger, the particles whipped his body, stinging where it met exposed skin.

"In here," Rain yelled over the howl of the wind, pointing with her unoccupied hand at the side of the concrete wall. If he squinted, he could just make out the outline of a long disused storm water drain, a relic from the time before the drought. He didn't know how Rain had located it in the dark. She hadn't even used the light of her palm pod.

Dec looked for an excuse not to follow, a way to get his mum back without having to get too close. But even as he stood there in hesitation, the sky parted with another fork of lighting, closer this time, sending the city's strays and domestics into a howling cacophony. The ensuing crash of thunder was so loud, bats in the rafters startled from their roosts and flapped away. Desert birds flocked south towards the water, keeping ahead of the storm by the length of their tail feathers.

The SolStore lamps on the street flickered and went out as the electricity grid tripped and failed. The city plunged into absolute darkness, the kind that can only be found in the depths of a cave. Dec realised he'd have to navigate blind. Then, a hand gripped his, small and firm, and dragged him forward.