Temptest

Clouds darkened in the sky, to any appearances constructing themselves for a storm. Particularly cruel: the sort of storm Mother Nature would brew when ire. A heavy rain cried from the ruinous clouds, crashing to the ground not undifferentiated from hot tears. These were Mother Nature's tears for the slaughter of innocent souls by ghastly creatures corrupted by sin. This type of storm sent stagnation to the region; incense whose smell you could not escape, even if the soil were to fully engorge and dissolve it. It flowed and corrupted the citizen's slants, infecting the area like an unavoidable illness. The heat of the rain was the water's disguise, the kind of rain little children did not wish to dance and splash in. The kind of rain that makes people stay indoors. The kind of rain that makes everything in the world somber.

The opaque girl remained oblivious to the fact that she might want to seek shelter during Mother Nature's episode. She walked down a sidewalk streaming Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture from a small device, a perfect song for the mood the Earth was diffusing. The sound of the canons made for a perfectly dramatic thunderstorm. She didn't hear the sounds of the rain pelting down around her, thunder crashing, nor the trees oscillating violently. She only heard the music; it was all she focused on. The rain and wind strafing her brought her less despondency than the warm tears she could not ignore. Her tears ravaged her hope and instilled a thought of eternity in her head. The young adult that she is could not remember the innocent child she once was when the Earth was still thriving and vivid. She remembered friends, family, theme parks, swimming, playing sports, board games, family dinners, snow, leaves falling in autumn. She recalled her feelings of euphoria at her peak moments and her tantrums when her mom did not give her ice cream. Now she longed for her mother and forgot the taste of her favourite sweet treat. She remembered her sister, their dog, and the long walks the three of them would take.

Lost in thoughts, she tripped over a root in the ground. Falling in the mud, she laid there for a moment. Why bother to get up? To where was she even going? Canada seemed ideal when this trip was planned. But now? Could she really walk all the way there? She supposed it was to gather food to last for the next day, but would it not just be better to get up? Not that she could take her own life even if she had been serious about it. She had nothing in her bag save one spare change of clothes, a jacket, an emergency blanket, a Ziploc bag, and a canteen. All of her food provisions and water had been spent. When she found it in herself to get up, she tasted something different. Warm and coppery, she felt a hand to her mouth and it came back crimson. Albeit unexpected, she forced herself to not care. She marched on.

The world around her crumbled. She felt like crumbling. She knew she would soon if she didn't have something in her system. A thought had struck her to fill her canteen with rainwater, but the smoke from every corner of the world seemed to have contaminated the clouds and made the rain appear grim. Not ideal for drinking.

The year 2100 was supposed to be the start of something new. She remembered kissing her lover when the clock struck midnight January first. For the inmates of America, they had planned a suicide mission to break out and cause havoc with the claim that it was time to repay America. They had run rampant through the streets, setting fire to trees, building, mountains, even people. Police all over the country shot these corrupted beings on-site, but the demons outnumbered the force. Her father had been amongst the law enforcement at that time, and it was relayed to her mother that he was burned alive. Because of this, her mother prepared her and her sister to run if anything out of the ordinary occurred. They had started this journey together. Her mother would never let her disassociative child out of her sight, nor her cherubic sister. Her mother was taken by manhunters. Her sister had left in the middle of the night one eventide. She waited three days and three nights before her mind had settled into a state of disconsolation. There were some days where she had no concept of time. Some days where she felt like she was dreaming. She had no idea if she had been dreaming. If she were, she'd been experiencing incredibly lucid dreams. Often sleeping restless, she associated this with her soul wandering around at night whilst looking for ways out. Out of this country or out of this world, she did not know nor did she care. She habitually wished her mother had packed a gun.

Late at night and the rain still roared, the winds still screamed. She was in the middle of nowhere. She settled upon a ditch that wasn't receiving as much rain due to the pattern that the winds brisked, so she fetched her blanket from her bag. Reaching her hand into the bag, she felt something metallic brush her hand. Although only a month into her journey, she thought she'd foraged the available contents. There was a hidden zipper sewn into the bag. Unzipping it, there was one thing located in the small pouch. It revealed a heart-shaped locket. She opened it, and a folded note fell out. Inside the locket was a picture of her and her sister when they were born, and a photo of her mother and father on their wedding day. Maybe a week or two ago she would have felt mourning. Today she felt numb and void of any sorrow. She envied them for being dead.

She turned off the music and unfolded the letter, attempting to shield it from the rain. She recognized the curly cursive of her mother's calligraphy. The letter contained love and goodbyes, good lucks, and too-late warnings. The end also contained meaningless love from the dog as well. That damn dog. Maybe her mother would've had a better chance at surviving if she hadn't brought the damn dog that wouldn't shut up having spotted other people. She resented the dog for that. Still, if it was quiet it would have been nice to keep it around. She had to admit she wasn't that hard up for company.

She wrapped the locket around her neck. Held it in her sleep. It was the first time she didn't go to sleep hearing her mother's last screams echoing in her mind.

...

The next morning was bleak but drier than the day before. The harsh winds and rains subsided to a gentler drizzle and a tranquil wind. As if the locket had brought her and the skies some sort of determination to keep going. She hadn't seen that coming. Still, she trudged on.

Hours had maybe passed before her stomach started to growl again. She knew her pants would soon not fit her small waist. Upon the growling, she heard whimpering. Not far off. Her eyes scanned the area, doing a slight spin to take in her surroundings. Behind a pile of rubble that may have been a tree at some point, she spotted bright orange. She peered around the debris to see a young child. Maybe six years old. The child started to cry hinged on her appearance. She realized she hadn't showered since she was forced from her home that was burned down moments later. She guessed she looked squalid but no body of water could be found to glance at her reflection. Yet the child's face was quite clear, though covered in freckles. She could tell her bright blue eyes once looked beautiful and vibrant but now looked scared and bewildered. She remembered she had once loved children. Now she was not so sure.

"Shh," the little girl whispered. "They're around here somewhere."

"Who?" when the girl spoke, her voice broke. It was hoarse. She hadn't spoken to anyone in two weeks.

"They took my daddy. He told me to wait here for him to come back."

She thought for a moment, keeping no real hope. "When did he say that?"

The child frowned. "Yesterday."

She got on the girl's level, surprised by her own actions. "I'm sorry. I don't think he'll be coming back."

"How will I get out of here?"

She looked over the child. "Have you got anything with you?"

"Just this..." she brushed aside some debris and pulled out a small child's bag. Once pink but now murky with dust and ashes. "It just has some snacks and some clothes. I don't have anything else!"

She put a hand over the child's bag she was offering. "I'm not here to take anything from you. You can come with me if you want."

The child lowered her defense. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere where the sun is shining." It pained her to fib a utopia, but she wanted to give this girl some sort of hope. "I want to be happy."

"Me too!" she smiled. The girl paused and took in her smile. Had she ever once in her life smiled like that? The child slowly frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Do you want to come with me?"

The child nodded, smiling. "Can I take your hand?"

She blinked. "Sure." She slowly extended her hand, which the girl gripped tightly.

"Do you think we'll find my daddy where the sun is shining?"

"It's possible." No, it wasn't. There was no way he made it. She hoped for his sake that he was dead, watching over her protecting his little girl. He was most likely dead already. "What's your dad's name?"

"I'm not supposed to call him his name."

"I know. But I don't know it, and I need to know it so I can look for him when we get there."

The little girl was quiet before she said "It's Daeril. What's your name?"

"Lorelai." She hadn't heard that name called in a while. It sounded unfamiliar, almost nostalgic. Days felt like weeks in this new hostile Earth. "What is your name?"

"It's Nadia!"

"Nadia," she felt the name roll off her tongue. "How long have you been out here, Nadia?"

"I don't know. A long time. Daddy took really good care of me. He kept me clean even if he was dirty. He looked scary after a while."

"Do you like to talk?"

"I love to talk!"

"I can tell."

She looked away for a minute before saying "I have more than clothes and snacks in my bag."

"What do you have?" She looked at the little girl.

"My daddy gave me a weapon and told me to only use it on the bad guys."

"I'm not a bad guy."

"I know, that's why I didn't use it on you."

"What is it?"

"A gun."

She felt herself laugh. It was an abnormal noise. A gun! This adorable child held a gun and claimed she could have used it on her if she was a bad guy. How naive! She doubted the little girl knew how to load the tool, and if she had, she doubted her courage to shoot it.

"How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen. I'll be turning twenty in a few weeks."

"So you're an adult!"

"I am."

"Daddy said adults can use guns. Do you want the gun?"

"I could use it to protect us."

"Okay!" They stopped so she could pull a small pistol from her bag. She handed it to Lorelai. She checked it, something she had only done a few times before. She could get five shots out of it.

"Thank you," she breathed. This little girl had just given her hope. "I'll get us out of here."