Ember Rain

EMBER RAIN

The liquid gold that fell from the sky was a grotesque show of beauty. The drops that formed of molten lava hissed and spat as they destroyed life, melting into the fissures of the earth and leaving the smell of death to climb smoothly into the back of my throat. However, the gradual destruction I can see now pales in comparison to that first day. That day we realised that the sun was dying.

It had been hot, so hot. The kinds of temperatures that sap all moisture out of you and leave a nauseous pounding feeling in your body, willing you to crawl into a ball and remerge as coarse dust readily blown away in steady winds. Those foolish enough to believe it was salvation, dirt caked into their cracked broken knuckles reaching their palms up to the sky, were the first to die. In a world whipped and bruised by taunting cruel winds, the golden raindrops that fell from the sky seemed to be a blessing, a miracle that so many had silently pleaded for. It did not take long before the gasps and excited shouts morphed into screams of pain and terror, as those desperate hopeful hands were melted away drop by drop as the sun’s fiery embers consumed what they could touch.

Slowly after that day life here began to reform and while the fissures in our hearts and world never fully heal most of us altered our way of living to be content if not comfortable living underground. However, I find myself above ground now, clutching a scratchy coat that seems to crawl uncomfortably around me to my chest watching destruction continue. The Ember Rain affected us all. I was just one of the many whose peace and family were ripped away by the dying sun, leaving me alone, no longer knowing the pleasures of the human warmth that radiates from having someone by your side. I was isolated navigating a cruel and divided world beneath the ground with barely a soul who even knew my name.

The person on my left about my age with chestnut hair was growing restless, scowling as he looked out from this creaky abandoned house. It was grief and discomfort that created the restless growling beast within many of us underground. Years of leering shadows and harsh white lights accompanied by the restless rumble of hungry stomachs will do that to you. For me, left with nothing I adapted to the conditions as best I could, I had no other choice. My hands became both deft and silent reaching into the abyss of shadows that the sun could no longer extinguish, taking not what my body craved but what it demanded in each aching, gaunt bone.

 But I’ve grown tired of simply existing, complying with the system the government has constructed. The one that left people like me fighting to stay alive and avoid getting caught in the process, while others exploited their resources to stay powerful and flaunted living lavish lives. Not a soul dared question the government or get caught cheating their system, those who did would face the fiery wrath of life above ground, forced to face what drives the frantic memory of fear that clings to the minds of us all.

 That is where I find myself now, alongside Ace. Above ground, allowing my eyes to sweep across the dry and barren land with one simple goal on my mind, survival. If I can survive 10 days out here, I can return to society and will be pardoned. The alternative will see my body melt into the lifeless land I am currently surveying, flesh singed and beyond saving while their lives continue without me. I refuse to let the government have the satisfaction of eliminating me and as the adrenaline wraps its fingers around my heart and idle limbs, the same golden fire I see beyond the threshold ignites within me.

My gaze shifts to the boy beside me. He must be around my age yet the troubles of life below ground haven’t seemed to leave their mark on him. His skin is smooth, his arms muscled in a way that no one like me could ever be. The look of anger that contorts his hazel eyes tells me what I suspected. Ace is not one like me, he is or was one of the privileged, one of those self-absorbed, self-preserving people who were content letting so many starve and rot in the new system. My anger has no time to brew within me as the world around me shifts, forgoing the steady weakness of the house’s foundations for destruction as a drop crafts a gaping hole in the rusted tin above us. My body slips easily into a move to flee, recognizing there is no fight to be had here. I quickly glance at Ace and see his body hasn’t been trained the way I have and although I could leave him here to wait for the next drop to fall something in me reaches for him and roughly pulls him through a splintered wood door frame and down a flight of crumbling stairs. I hate him, I do, everything he must stand for makes me sick, but I may need him. I have survived alone underground but a whole new game is afoot now, I will use any tool I can to survive. We manage to scramble down the stairs and into what must have once been a cellar. The walls are covered in drawings and names and a shiver creeps down my spine as I realize these are the names of the previous evicted, those who never returned. I lower myself to the cold and dusty ground feeling the metallic smell of decay finding my nose and clutch my knees to my chest to keep them from shaking. I talk first asking him how he ended up here, but not expecting an answer. He seems almost surprised, letting his mask slip for one moment. “My father” he whispers and I’m sure I don’t mistake the angry vibration of his words.

 I don’t bother to ask anything else as while my mind ticks over a thousand possibilities, the defensive way he stands against the far wall and the persistent resentment that schools his features tell me what I need to know. The crackle of ember rain in the distance sets loose a familiar train of thought. Down underground, the few moments I would hear the soft rasp of another’s voice as I tried to trade for clothes or food, I would occasionally gain extra information, rumors of life above ground. I had heard about the survivors, a group who had found an area free of the Ember Rain, not paradise by any means but freedom. Hope was foolish, I, for one, never allowed myself to feel the warm prickle of desire for a different future because I knew there was never going to be a way for me to live above ground. My stomach churns now with hunger and turns anxiously at the thought of a community living in these inhospitable lands. Ace hearing my stomach rumbling strides over and pulls me roughly to my feet, I shake him off angrily but quickly realise he is right as he says we need to find food and water. I imagine the dry air is eagerly drinking the smooth moisture of new flesh from my body and my throat burns against the dusty drafts whistling down the stairs.

We push up into the ground floor of the house avoiding the room still smoking from the drop of ember rain. I look out a window on my left and feel the determination that was momentarily shaken return. I will not be beaten by the ruthless forces of nature, nor the remorseless government that governs somewhere below my strong feet. This withered, tired world will know me, it will know that I am one it cannot defeat. “There’s an old storage bunker over there,” Ace says, pulling me from my thoughts and pointing at a rusted, half-melted sign just over half a mile away. The path to it is far from clear with hexagonal tiles formed by the cracked earth dipping and rising, waiting to crumble into the earth and take us with it. There is little cover aside from one broken, clay-colored car missing all but the roof and exterior frame. “How fast can you run?” I ask lightly.

 “My father used to make me run laps of the underground, so let's just say I think I’ll be fine” he smirks and looks me up and down almost asking me to challenge him but I don’t, his ego doesn’t need the chance to prove me wrong. Growing up as sheltered as him he wouldn’t know what it’s like to run for your life. The fear that begs to paralyze you as you are confronted with the possibility that everything you could lose. A life with nothing seems priceless when you are so close to losing it all. The distress that puts new purpose into frail limbs, is a stronger driving force than you could imagine, and as we step onto the threshold danger no longer numbs me. I picture the smooth concrete floors of the underground and find familiarity in the anxious twitch of my hands as I prepare myself to move. I don’t speak to Ace, as he gives me an annoyingly reassuring nod, we move into the open.

Straight away the wind lashes me through my clothes, as I try to push my legs harder, running over the sharp, unstable ground. There is no nighttime reprieve from the sun anymore, although the world continually gets darker as the sun continues to die, it no longer slumbers below the heat-wavering horizon. I run my feet naturally finding stable ground as my arms move swiftly by my sides, glancing occasionally to Ace at my side, face red with exertion. We are almost at the car wreck when a sound seems to shatter the world around me, a drop of ember rain plummets from the sky shattering the dirt to my left and throwing me to the ground. One drop can cause so much damage depending on their size, and as my vision is clouded with the grime of a broken earth, I realize this one must have easily been the size of a small car. The world around me seems to stop breathing, and for a second, I do too as I see through the haze the molten lava seeping across the earth and rolling towards me. I will my legs to push my broken body up off the ground, but all I can do is let out a strangled cry as they remain stubbornly folded roughly beneath me. I raise my head eyes straining to see Ace, screaming for him to help me. I’m not sure if it’s my mind playing cruel tricks on me, but I see the shadow of a person getting further away, I feel as though I’m reliving the memory of my mother walking back into the blur of the sun as I was pushed by heavy unsympathetic hands into the underground tunnel. I feel an indescribable anguish and whether it is my foolish heart burning or my left arm being singed by the rain I’m not sure. My thoughts slow, feeling nothing but the blistering fiery pain that seeps into my arm and I picture my very bones turning to ash. Like acid singeing and melting my skin in slow motion, with my throat hoarse from the scream it refuses to quiet. Then suddenly I’m being pulled up and pushed to move my legs. “You have to move!” Ace screams at me and grabs my right arm pulling me behind him. In my crazed hysteria, the only thought I have is that he came back, as more drops fall around me, and the world never ceases tumbling I cling tighter to Ace and thank every remaining part of my body that he came back.

I wake up feverish, a merciless pain in my left arm pressed against a cold cloth. We didn’t make it to the bunker that much I can tell; this house is similar to the first one we were dropped in. The eerie silence of the outside world tells me the rain shower must be over, yet there is a cacophony of noise inside my head. I sneak a hesitant glance at my arm pulling away the cool cloth to see the raw hideous skin on my lower forearm. It’s a miracle really that my arm is still somewhat intact, Ace is that miracle. I realize with a start that he must have found water in this place for the cloth, and I have not a single idea of where we are. Suddenly there he is, standing in front of me, soot staining his shirt and a deep gash across his cheek. I hate them, I hate the stupid officials who use this broken world as a weapon against us. Look at the destruction it has caused, neither of us truly deserves to be here. I made a mistake, but one I had to make to survive.

 “You’re awake” he mumbles, and I don’t even know how to begin to thank him. With my good arm, I pat the rough floor beside me and he sits down beside me, keeping his distance. “Thank you,” I say, my voice hoarse.

 “I wasn’t going to move that first day, I was content getting taken by the rain, you saved me. You know I think you might be the first person to actually want me to survive” he says. I feel slightly guilty at his words remembering my decision to save him was purely practical, but I identify with the loneliness he describes. I didn’t expect myself to speak so soon but I can’t help myself as I say “Even more reason we need to live. Imagine their smug faces when we return triumphant”. Even as I speak the words the horrible pain in my arm continues pervading my thoughts and reducing the conviction behind my words. He offers me a knowing, weary smile, studying my face and no doubt seeing my cocktail of skepticism and determination. I’m not sure why, but I find myself telling him about the survivors. The countless rumors I pass on to him aren’t met with disbelief or disdain for my naivety but a tentative glimmer of hope behind his eyes. He asks me endless questions because he is “just curious” and my heart wonders how bad his life must have been for him to be so intrigued by this possibility. A rumble sets my teeth on edge once again and Ace quickly gets to his feet. Debris rains from the ceiling, anxiety turning my stomach sour, but it's over as swiftly as it begins. The pain though, never ends. It grows crawling over my skin and into my bones as I try to lift my arm from the ground, but the agony is too great. The ache grows as the cloth dries leaving my arm to heat up further, I ignite internally, heat spreading through my arm. A throbbing grows in my head, and I have a distant realization I haven’t eaten yet. Black clouds my vision and I feel Ace reach for me, but the pain is too great and sleep is too enticing. I slip off the edge of the cliff and tumble into unconsciousness. 

I awake again frantically surveying an empty room. Refusing to lay there any longer; I push up onto my shaky feet attempting to plant them confidently beneath me. “Ace are you here” I call out as best I can. No answer. “Ace, come on, where are you?”. I gulp nervously and sit against the far wall, waiting hopelessly for him to return from wherever he has gone. If he returns that is. I think of the place I called home, the place beneath the earth’s surface that brought so much pain into mine and Ace’s world. I know the type of man his father is, and it makes me sick. Those who hurt others to take care of themselves, use anyone remotely powerless as their safety net. It’s the corrupt system that the government sustains itself on, consuming and destroying whatever they please.

 Ace is suddenly in front of me, with wild hair, a dust-caked face, and a new slash across his right arm. He looks at me, as confused by my worry as I am. “You could have gotten yourself killed Ace” I scream, and I think how desperately I wish to strangle that slight tremble in my voice as I say it. I pound my good arm against his chest trying to push the unwanted feelings of worry out of me. He lets me punch him again and again, barely even registering the pain. That’s when I stop, realizing a gut-wrenching truth of how he has become this person and why he is up here someone’s lost cause. Suddenly, as my arms grow weak, I am struck by a different sort of anger. The kind of fury that manifests into something bigger, curling and crackling from my head to all the ends of my tired body. A new resolve that I will no longer play their game, I will not go back to that prison. Hell is not on earth but below where it belongs living comfortably in the confines of the mud brick and concrete corridors. It slithers on those paths tangling itself in the air and aggressive white light of the rooms. “I found them” he whispers, offering me a lifeline, a means to act on my new promise to myself, a final piece to this complex puzzle. I will not return underground.