Dyle stirs Jex with a light shake to his shoulders.
His eyes fling open and he sits straighter. It takes a while for him to adjust to the crimson brightness and recognise they are within the shelter. Brown eyes fall on Aila, still sound asleep, and then across to Sarla curled up on Dyle’s shirt spread out over red sand.
His gaze returns to Dyle and he stands. The heat strikes with such force, his fingers cannot pull the layers of clothing off fast enough. Starting to sweat, Jex regards Dyle and the weary expression on his face. He frowns.
“How long?” Jex asks.
“You’ve slept a quarter of the day. Sarla’s slept half of that time.”
“What have you being doing?”
“Worrying,” Dyle admits. “The sky’s clear. We’ll freeze tonight. Not just Sarla... We’ll freeze tonight.”
Jex places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll share clothing, we’ll travel by night. The movement will keep us warm. We will make a plan. Rest for now.”
Dyle nods, unconvinced and returns to Sarla’s side, passing out soon after lying down.
Jex look down at Aila, unable to bear breaking her from her peaceful slumber. This is the first time in a long time he has seen her face so relaxed. Even before they ran away, he noticed she was stressed about something, even before their names were called next in line to die. Jex is not a fool. He knew something was wrong back then. But asking is done by people who care.
He leaves her asleep on the blanket and sits at the opening of the cover. The red pile of sand has blown away. He squints into the light and watches shallow waves of sand blow over the canyon. The edges in the distance are fuzzy like a mirage and from the shimmering heat steps a woman. She is tall, much taller than even Dyle, and slender, clothed in very little.
She makes her way towards him. Every step she places in the red powder seems to send ripples away from her as if the demons below ground are running from her presence.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Skies
HorrorThe sky is stained crimson with the blood of a thousand dying sacrifices made This Side of the canyon. Each month, on the Day of Killing, the sky pulsates. Wind throws painful screams to the far corners of the world. It rides across the land so eve...
