The Ark

2.

The weather was just as bad on the Eastern side of the Ark. Fat droplets of rain pattered against the illuminated plexi-glass ceiling, casting light-filled, crystalline patterns onto the fresh, white tiles and bustling commuters below.

I alighted in a daze. Everything around me faded into the background as I staggered away from the platform and into the thick, wet night air.

What the hell had just happened? I would have thought it were a dream had it not been for the wary glances I'd been getting from fellow passengers on the ride home. In the darkness of each blink, I found myself back on the platform, staring down the barrel of the laser gun with my heart leaping.

Had I gotten in the middle of a gang fight? It would explain the shootout, but no gang members would have bothered shielding me the way that obnoxious guy had. And why bother putting me on the train?

The whole thing had me so confused that I was already halfway down the street by the time I realised where I was. It was a wonder I hadn't bumped into anyone. The walkways were teeming with people, the rain unable to slow the usual commotion in the packed food market on the streets. I wove through stalls and crowds, startling at the popping and flashing of illegal fireworks some kids had set off down one of the alleys. I only realised my clothes were soaked when I was nearly home—somehow the droplets of rain rolling down my back hadn't registered until then.

There were twelve high-rises in the gated estate where Mum lived. Each one like an eighty-storey glass mosaic mirror, always reflecting the sky around them, which this evening was a heavy black.

The yellow security wall that housed the estate's eastern side entrance had seen its fair share of sun and was now an off-cream colour. I scanned my thumb on the reader and let myself in. As I made my way to our building, I spotted a few other residents scurrying to their apartment blocks, trying to avoid getting caught in the rain.

I scanned my thumb again to let myself into the lobby. The temperature-controlled atmosphere felt cold on my wet face, and the air was thin compared to the humidity outside. The moment I walked through the door of our apartment, Mum practically pounced on me.

"Where have you been?!" She gripped my arm before I had a chance to close the door behind me. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon!"

My heart had skittered at the ambush, but I quickly composed myself. "You've got a tight hold of me at the moment." Her metallic gold nails were digging into my skin thanks to her over enthusiastic grip. I wriggled. Since when did Mum care what time I rolled in?

"Sorry." She released me and took a step back. Her honey brown eyes were wide with stress and her dark hair had come loose of its usual neat updo. "I just wanted everything to be perfect for this evening, I was so worried you weren't going to be home in time."

"For what?" I asked slowly, my eyes drifting to the glass dinner table behind her. It was set neatly for three. There were gold napkins, metallic place settings and at the centre—a huge vase filled with twinkle lights. It was certainly not our usual dinner on the couch and way too extravagant to be one of her friends coming around. "Why the fancy setup?"