The Last Storm

The wind beat against the house, picture frames on the walls rattling, hailstones as big as golf balls pelting against the windows. It felt as if the ground beneath my feet could open up at any second, engulfing me in nature’s wrath.

I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear my own voice above the noise. My lungs heaved and my throat burned but my mind was poisoned by fear and running on adrenaline.

‘JASMINE!’ I screamed, my voice spiking with anguish. The T.V was blaring in the background, an old, balding newsreader rambling on while an extreme weather warning bar slid across the bottom of the screen. A sudden bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, quickly followed by the deafening crack of thunder. I wrenched the front door open, instantly bombarded by sharp pellets of ice rocketing towards me from the sky above.

‘JASMINE!’ I screamed again, shielding my eyes while searching through my foggy front yard for my ten-year-old sister who had been playing outside when the storm rolled in. My nose and cheeks stung from the biting wind, shooting pebbles and sticks at me with frightening speed. Through the fog, I spotted her: the small silhouette battling against the wind, struggling to claw her way blindly towards the door. Without a second thought, I lunged towards her, my hands outstretched in front of me, blinded by fog and wind. I felt around until the tips of her long hair whipped against my fingers, her mottled shrieks reaching my ears.

‘Jas! Come here. Get inside.’ I ordered, pulling her towards me, like a fisherman reeling in a catch. Jasmine whimpered in fear as another bold of lightning struck the ground beside us, sending sparks coursing through the wind. Thunder crackled from the sky, almost midnight-black, no sign that the sun was there at all.

‘Get inside. Go, now!’ I yelled, dragging her towards the front door. A piece of wood came flying towards us and I ducked, my hand slipping from Jasmine’s.

‘Keep going!’ I shrieked, dragging myself to my feet. Jasmine was fighting her way towards the door. I stumbled behind her, screaming as a blinding flash of lightning seared through my eyes. Instantly, a resounding clap of thunder roared and my skin started to sear. My muscles stunned and I collapsed to the ground, a deep burning sensation radiating around my body, paralysed as if I had been hit by an electric sledgehammer. I gasped, but the air had drained from my lungs. This was it. This was how I died.

I awoke with a start, trembling, covered in a cold sweat. Peeking out my window, I watched menacing storm clouds swirl overhead. Deep breaths, I told myself. In, out. In, out. I had endured the nightmare myriad times, my mind twisting reality into cruel, fictitious stories that plagued my dreams every night. It was the same as always, I told myself –nothing but a dream, an image inside my mind, a replay of an event that would never happen again. In, out. In, out. Slowly, I felt my heartrate return to normal, and I watched as the clouds outside slowly melted away, the sky bright and dazzlingly blue again, as if they had never existed at all.

My door creaked and I glanced up. Mum poked her head inside my dark room.

‘Morning, Hailey. I’m off now. Your dad’s already gone –it’s just you and Jasmine home. Make sure she does her schoolwork, okay?’ It had been a tough adjustment for all of us, Jasmine and I being pulled out of school I finished my last couple of years of high school online and signed up for an online university course, but Jasmine wasn’t so keen. ‘Why do I have to leave school for a condition she has?’ She had wailed. But Mum was resolute. ‘It’s too dangerous. People could come after you to get what they want from Hailey.’ Jasmine had pouted, but she had no choice.

‘Yeah, alright. Bye, Mum.’

Mum hesitated in the doorway, chewing on the inside of her cheek. ‘Just think about what I said yesterday, okay? I worry about you and Jasmine. It might be what’s better for all of us.’

I felt my heart sink, my stomach churn with unease. ‘Bye, Mum,’ I repeated, and with pursed lips she left my room.

Outside, wind began to whip against the house. The windows rattled, despite Dad’s investments in double-paned glass. I felt fury burning inside of me, and the wind outside roared harder. Why did she have to bring that up? I thought I’d made it clear that I didn’t want to do it. That I didn’t want to erase my emotions.

It first came up a few weeks after the storm. People messaging, once they realised I was in control of the weather, begging for rain, for sun, for cold, for heat. I couldn’t please everyone. Soon, the messages turned to threats. Promises to hurt Jasmine or my parents to get rain, storms, cold. We were pulled out of school after the harassment followed us there, too. I tried my best to protect Jasmine but I couldn’t be with her everywhere, I couldn’t shield her from the threats or the harsh comments that spilled out of her late at night through her tears. I knew it was my fault, that we were never safe. But there was nothing I could do.

Until Mum found out about an experimental treatment that could potentially rid me of all emotions. I’d never feel so hurt that the sky opened up and the rain didn’t relent for hours, days, or so excited that the sun scorched through the atmosphere into stifling forty-degree days. I’d stop being the one in control of everything. I’d be safe, and we’d be free.

In, out. In, out. My lungs expanded and then deflated as air whistled in and out of my nose. It was just a suggestion. I didn’t have to do it. I didn’t have to rid myself of love, of passion, of care. I didn’t have to live like a zombie –a robotic imposter trudging through life without so much as a twitch on my blank face. My smile lines would fade eventually, formed by years of late-night secrets shared under a blanket on sleepovers, years of running along the beach while being chased by Mum or Dad with a bottle of sunscreen as my skin bubbled and popped into painful blistering sunburns. Years of laughing until a stitch throbbed in my side and my cheeks ached from grinning so hard. No, I wasn’t willing to give it all up.

‘Going for a run,’ I called to Jasmine, who was neglecting her schoolwork and instead indulging in a heavily buttered slice of raisin toast. ‘Don’t do anything dumb while I’m gone. Mum says to do your schoolwork.’

Jasmine rolled her eyes, her mouth stuffed with the bread. Her hair hung droopily in a ponytail at the back of her head, her pyjamas still slumped over her hunched shoulders, one leg on the chair and the other dangling over the side. She hardly ever took them off these days, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. I had a childhood. Hers was stripped away. Sometimes, she tells me she wishes she had died that night in the storm. She wishes I had never come to save her. Or other times, when she’s particularly agitated, she tells me she wishes I never woke up after being struck by lightning.

The air was cool outside, a soft breeze rustling the treetops. I started the timer on my phone, tightened my ponytail and broke out into a slow jog down the steady decline of my street.

I wasn’t allowed to run further than the block which my house sat on. I would run around it, over and over again, until my feelings melted away, until the sky was a wistful, pale blue, until clouds lightened until they were scarcely scattered across the sky. Numb, I called it. Emotionless. Not happy or sad. A middle-ground, but a feeling I didn’t want to be stuck with for life.

My feet pounded the pavement, a drip of sweat sliding down my temple, my breath steady and evenly retreating in and pushing out of my lungs. I was on my second lap, passing the array of cracked concrete that was lumped to the side of the path on the opposite side of the block to my house. Trees loomed over me, creeping out from the decrepit fences that had moss creeping up the sides, like the only thing that kept them from tumbling over was pure luck. A man was smoking while leaning against a hip-height brick post that once contained a letterbox. He had been there last time I passed by. I kept my eyes straight ahead, the smell of the smoke searing my nostrils, and I willed myself not to cough.

‘Make it rain,’ he muttered dryly as I passed him. I ignored him, pretending the AirPods wedged into my ears were playing music loud enough to drown him out. He’d mumbled something similar last time I had ran past him. Maybe I’d have to cut my run short.

‘Did you hear me? I said make it rain!’ The man growled over the sound of my music blasting in my ears. I slowed for a moment, but I didn’t stop. I felt my breath falter. My legs turned to jelly but I kept running.

‘I’m going to kill your fuckin’ parents if you don’t make it rain,’ the man yelled after me. Suddenly, the air retreated back into my lungs. My mind froze. I should have kept running, ignored his threats, like I did everyone else. But something about it made me stop. Made me turn. Made me face him.

‘I don’t care who you are. You can’t threaten me like this. I’m going to call the cops.’ I spat, forcing confidence I didn’t have. These encounters never turned out well for me. I always ended up backing away, my tail between my legs, the police ensuring they were on their way but never bothering to come after my twentieth call.

‘Then make it rain,’ the man repeated, jamming his cigarette between his lips again, and taking a puff. His dusty eyes narrowed scrutinizingly.

I swallowed sharply. ‘No.’

I turned to leave, but he stopped me. ‘Your mum works at Darville Research Facility, doesn’t she? Room 218? If I get there soon, I can get her before her lunch break.’ The man blew a puff of smoke in my direction.

My blood ran cold. Mum always took her lunch breaks early when she was working at the lab. Said it helped her focus. He wasn’t bluffing.

‘Leave me alone,’ I demanded, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. I backed away, and he called after me.

‘Rain, Hailey. I want rain. I want a flood. Either you give it to me, or I’ll get it another way. Your choice.’ I shivered, my heart in my throat as I ran. I glanced behind me as I rounded the corner, breaking out into a sprint back home. The man’s eyes met mine through the windshield of a small grey car. I gasped, fumbling with my phone as I slowed to a walk.

‘Come on, pick up,’ I muttered, my sweaty fingers pressing my phone to my ear as the ringing tone reverberated in my mind.

‘Hello, June speaking,’ Mum said, and then, ‘Hi, Hailey. Is everything alright? Looking a bit gloomy outside.’ I suddenly realised that dark clouds had rolled into the sky above me.

‘Mum, you’ve got to go. Leave. You’re in trouble. You and Dad. There’s this guy –’ I stammered, but she cut me off.

‘Yep, I’ll be with you in just a minute. Sorry, Hailey, I’ve got to go. Whatever you want to tell me you can tell me at home.’

‘No, wait!’ I called as the call abruptly ended. I cursed under my breath and fumbled with the keypad until I found Dad’s contact and rang him too. I pressed the phone to my ear just as the grey car sped past me up the street, towards the lab. Come on, come on! The wind picked up around me. But it was no use. Dad didn’t pick up. My mind flipped with panic as the grey car vanished off into the distance. I had to get there first. I had to get to the office before he did. But how? I couldn’t outrun the car.

The park, I suddenly realised. I could cut through the park that lay on a big block of land, stretching from my house to the research facility. It would shave off about a kilometre and a heavy intersection onto a main road. I’d have to. I had no choice.

I broke out into a run, this time, my breath ragged and uneven, my legs burning, struggling to push me off the pavement. Up the street, over the small crossing, into the large national park. Mothers were pushing prams while kids clung to their dad’s hands, ushered away from the trees that were battling against the wind. I felt eyes on my back as I sprinted –whispered remarks and dirty looks that followed me as I passed the rapidly emptying playground.

I gasped for air as I reached the back of the park, into the carpark of the looming building, just as a small, grey car pulled up beside me. My heart rocketed into my throat. My hair flung wildly around my face and my eyes stung from the wind. But I couldn’t stop it. I had no time to calm down. The man drove his car haphazardly into an empty park and lunged out the door, stomping on his cigarette as he tucked something into his back pocket. Something shiny. Ice flowed through my veins as I realised what it was.

I sprinted towards the main double-doors, which groaned as I collided with the handle. In the lobby, there were a few people scattered in various chairs, absorbed in a grubby magazine or tapping away on their phone. Dad was behind the reception desk, his eyes widening as he saw me.

‘Hailey? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?’

‘Leave,’ I spluttered. ‘Leave, now. Get Mum. There’s a man… Coming here. He has a gun.’ My throat felt tight and air struggled to filter through. Just then, the doors burst open, and the man glowered at the entrance. ‘Go! Now!’

Dad quickly filed out from behind the desk, sharply drawing air in through his nose in panic.

‘I’ll hold him off. Go get your mother.’ Dad yelled, combatting the wind that was beating against the building. By now, people in the waiting room had begun to stand. To realise something was amiss.

‘What’s going on?’ One of them yelled, but got no response.

‘What? No! He has a gun!’ I protested, but Dad was firm.

‘I’ll find you later. Get out, now!’ His voice was hard and he placed a hand on my back, nudging me towards the corridor. ‘Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.’

My gaze lingered on the altercation a moment longer before I vanished into the hallway. As the door swung shut behind me, a shockwave passed through my body. An ear-splitting bang that left my ears ringing, my mind swimming. I stumbled forward, mumbling incoherently as people emerged from branching offices, their expressions twisted in concern and confusion. A tangy, metallic smell burned my nostrils. Panicked screams echoed throughout the hall, overlapping voices jumbled together. Someone yelled Dad’s name, their voice thick with dread.

‘Mum,’ I stammered, but my tongue felt heavy and not loud enough to even reach my own ears.

‘Hailey! God, what happened? Let’s get out of here. Where’s your father?’

No one had to say anything. I knew. I knew. He was gone. The gunshot. The smell of blood. The threats. It was all my fault.

‘He’s gone,’ I whimpered. I felt tears brimming in my eyes. ‘He’s gone, and it’s all my fault.’

‘What? Hailey, you’re not making any sense. Get in here, quick. Hide.’ Mum dragged me into her office and barricaded the door with a chair. A strand of hair was pasted to her forehead, her cheeks flushed and mascara smeared under her eyes. Mum dragged me into a small broom closet in the corner of the room, stagnant dust suspended in the air tickling my nose and eyes.

‘Speak to me, Hailey. What’s happening?’ I could feel Mum’s hot breath on my face as she spoke.

‘I –I was running, and there was this guy, and he knew where you worked, and he said he wanted a flood, and he drove here, and –’ I stammered, the words spilling out of me.

‘Slow down. What’s going on?’

‘He killed Dad,’ I whimpered. My eyes were blurry with tears that spilled over the barricade of my eyelids, carving paths down my face.

‘Hailey, stop.’ Mum hissed, her voice cracking. ‘Stop! You’re going to make a floor.’ I cried louder, screaming with anguish. Wind and rain thrashed against the building, the floor shaking and the closet rattling.

‘It was all my fault,’ I whispered huskily, my face stained with tears that I couldn’t control.

Mum shifted in the closet, grabbing something on one of the shelves beside us. I didn’t know what it was. She thrusted it towards me, and a sharp stinging followed as she plunged it into my skin.

‘What are you –?’ My voice was thick with betrayal, anguish, despair. I felt the building rattle as the wind outside grew fiercer. Why had she done that?

I was ready to retaliate. To demand an explanation, fury bubbling up inside me, a dangerous potion of anger and anguish.

But suddenly, it all melted away.