𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 18

Soul and Mates

1995

Maxine

Ryle has left for a mission. All in one, he has been quite secretive about his profession. I either see him at the camp or not, more I don't know.

I'm left wandering around on the campground again, I can't even spot Hailey. Maybe she is busy. Of course, I can't always expect everyone to spend time with me.

The sky is cast with dark clouds.

When the first drops start to fall, I find shelter under the community tent, pushing the tarps aside so I can still look outside.

Acidic rain is an odd phenomenon. I have watched it hit the ground a few times before, when it rained in the camp, and back at home. It's like the grass instantly turns yellow. Maybe skin isn't the only sensitive area after all.

But today, there wasn't an announcement stating that we were not allowed to go outside under the sky. With the rate at which weather anomalies occur, it is almost usual to have announcements coming in on the hour.

But not today. We get to live outside for once.

I want to feel the rain, I want to feel it hit my skin. I want to dance under it like I used to as a child. I want to feel alive.

But the past occurrences and the burning sensation I got to feel once back in Florida are enough to send a fear – a bone-chilling dread – through my body. I don't trust this.

What if the personnel just forgot to make an announcement?

Someone moves next to me.

Glancing over, I spot the merchant.

Steen, right here. Where is Hailey then?

He doesn't say anything for a good while.

But eventually, he clears his voice. "The rain keeps my business upright."

Business? Sales?

"Oh, really?" I ask, internally hoping it doesn't sound like a mean retort.

Steen nods over his shoulder. "Days like these, I put up my stock here and make three times as much."

Does money even still have a value?

He sees my frown.

"Oh, I don't make money. Some people show gratitude for the things they acquired by dropping a few valuables, like jewelry, but in the end, I trade things that have been in my stock for too long with the other merchants, that's how I renew my assortment constantly," he explains.

"Where do you get your things from in the first place?" I pivot to him, interested.

Steen points with his finger to the gate of my district.

"There are different merchants that come by here. One is a big salesman but, oh boy, he charges a lot for the items. There is a supplier that gathers his stock from trips he takes into dangerous areas, sometimes he has quite the good items. And I also know someone who hands out handmade knick-knacks. Hailey helps me choose from the various items, so I have a mixed collection every time." He twists one of his dreadlocks around his finger.

I fiddle with the holes in the sleeves of my jacket. "Well, this jacket is nice."

That makes Steen smile. "I'm glad."

I return his smile.

Comfortable silence falls over us and I listen to the raindrops hitting the wet ground - a steady, almost crunching noise that is utterly relaxing.

"What is the best thing that has happened to you in this camp so far?" Steen suddenly asks, almost hesitant, as if he doesn't want to tear me out of my comfortable moment.

I think. "The fact that it's humane. I don't have anything that I'm necessarily grateful for, but I expected worse from a refugee camp."

Ryle is definitely not the best thing th-

"What about you?" I ask before I could finish my internal thought.

Steen smiles to himself. "Hailey. It's like I met her ages ago, maybe she is my soulmate. We even picked a name for a daughter that we don't even have yet, Suraya."

My eyes drift over the camp, restless, as if they are on the search for someone.

Suraya.

"I'd name my daughter Valencia," I blurt out.

There is a chuckle next to me. "Like the city?"

My brows furrow. "There's a city?"

He purses his lips. "Yes, in Spain. I like it, the name."

Valencia is a city?

"Or Henry," I try to smooth out.

Steen huffs at my retort with a smirk.

"How are you feeling? I heard you pulled off quite the stunt."

I can sense in his behavior that he almost expects me to break out into a bloody cough.

What am I supposed to say?

"It could have been worse." My attempt at playing it down comes over horribly.

Steen scans me. "I heard rumors."

Rumors?

But instead of an explanation, he suddenly brushes off non-existent dirt on his pants and turns around to leave back into the tent.

"You can come after me and check my assortment, or... go into the rain, you seem mesmerized by it."

There isn't irony or sarcasm in his words, they are genuine.

I look back to the veils of rain still dripping down outside of the tent and back to the booth of Steen's shop, internally torn apart.