An End of Gods & Dust: ACT II

"He hath cast me into the mire,

and I am become like dust and ashes."

- Job 30:19

Kokuo watched the wind scream.

It wasn’t the kind of screaming he had heard as a kid when the world was still beautiful and serene. Back then the wind only screamed during a storm, when the currents of the air were squeezed and whipped and sent on looping spirals through the clouds. Even then the noise was inspiring. Never did it feel as if it was a call to death.

Now it was the kind of screaming that left a hollow in your gut, a void of feeling that couldn’t be processed until you took shelter from the noise.

No longer did the currents dance or play or get caught in spirals of thunderclouds. Instead the wind thrashed and clawed and desperately threw itself at cliff sides and cave dwellings, as if to escape its own torment.

And the wind was always accompanied by dust.

“Kokuo, come down from there. It’s not safe.”

Kokuo lowered himself from the tiny crack in the smooth red, orange and yellow layered wall. He sat back on the ledge, looking down at his companion, Karra.

“I was hoping to spot them coming back,” Kokuo said. He winced at the dry pull in his throat, his hand going up to rub against his neck.

Karra gave him a tight lipped smile from below, her long red chiton sweeping back and forth on the cave floor, stirring up small clouds of fine black dust. “They won’t be back till dawn. Besides, the dust is far too thick to spot them coming.”

Kokuo peered back up at the crack in their cave dwelling, watching as the obsidian dust whipped back and forth, obscuring any landmarks for miles.

“You’re right,” he said, sighing heavily. He turned and jumped down from the ledge and landed in front of her, his sandals scraping against the floor. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

“It’s alright, Kokuo. I understand your worry.”

Kokuo glanced up into Karra’s pale blue eyes, doubting her sincerity. It always seemed to him that nothing bothered her. She’d always been stoic, logical - pragmatic.

That was until she got angry.

“Maybe there is something we can do to distract ourselves,” Karra remarked, looking around at their sand blasted cave. Against the walls lay several makeshift beds made out of their own extra clothing and dried up hay. Clay pots, bowls and cups were scattered all over the floor and on shelves carved into the cave wall.

Before this, there might have been scrolls for reading material, or pigments to paint with, but everything had been repurposed for survival. Luxuries no longer existed to them.

“Besides organizing this mess? Nothing fun.” Kokuo paused to cough into his elbow, a sharp, lancing pain lashing down his throat. Pulling back his arm, he was dismayed to see a small splatter of red on his sleeve.

Karra was there over his shoulder then, her expression turning grave. “You’ve spent too much time next to the opening.”

“Obviously,” Kokuo rasped out, wiping the bloody sleeve with his hand, only to smear the blood further.

A dusty canteen was shoved in his face, the cork pushed open. “Drink. There’s still more in reserve if we need it.”

Kokuo hesitated, looking up at Karra with surprise. “Are you sure? That’s your supply, Karra.”

Karra simply shook the canteen at him, and remained silent.

Why must we hurt ourselves in order to help one another? Kokuo wondered as he took Karra’s canteen and took a generous sip, the cool liquid instantly soothing his dust-caked throat.

Gods, I hope the others are okay.

A dust-blasted hand slipped into his and squeezed, ripping him out of his worries. Karra’s hand was warm and steady, a presence he didn’t quite realize he needed until it was given.

“Stay strong, Kokuo. The others still need you.”

_____ . . . _____

ACT II serves as the first chapter.

Act III

Haven't read ACT I? Check it out below!