Storm Surge

by Melissa Gunn

  She’d arrived back at school sporting an enormous black eye, in addition to the more hidden hurts and bruises. She wore trousers to cover her hurt leg. It was cold enough that no-one queried her fashion choices - no more than usual, anyway. Freya had expected questions, and had considered blaming the fallen tree in her room. She didn’t want to tell everyone how she’d been set upon, and the subsequent events. It was never a good idea to be seen as a victim.

  “What happened to you?” a black-haired girl in her class blurted out when Freya limped in that first morning.

  “Some boys up near the shops...” Freya began - but she was interrupted, perhaps deliberately, with the first of many loud retellings of the flooded shopping mall story. The storyteller on this occasion was a shorter girl with flowing copper hair, who tended to be something of a ringleader in school.

  “I was so frightened. I thought the whole shopping centre was going to wash out to sea.”

  Freya knew she should ignore this story, but couldn’t help herself.

  “Why would you think that, Lisa? The shopping centre’s not even on a cliff. And it’s been in the same place for decades, hasn’t it?”

  Lisa replied scathingly.

  “Didn’t you see the news about that place over in Wales? They weren’t really close to the sea, and they were swept away in a landslide.”

  Freya shuddered internally at the idea.

  “I didn’t see that; I don’t have a TV,” she said.

  The chatter immediately swung to how poor you’d have to be to have no TV. Freya tried not to feel embarrassed, and avoided further participation in that conversation.

  She tried to talk to the black-haired girl who had questioned her about her storm-day experience during break-time, but found herself constantly interrupted by thrown balls, accidental bumps and loud nearby conversations. It began to feel deliberate.

  At lunchtime, the black-haired girl introduced herself as Aisha. She looked like she might say more, but at that moment someone bumped into Freya with a full lunch-tray, spilling half their soup in her lap.

  “Tell me later,” the girl said. “Not here.”

  Freya gave up the attempt to communicate, and retreated to bathroom once more, this time to clean up her clothes. At least she might have an ally in the minefield of high school, one person who did not seem associated with the were-fox clan.

  Later that day, as they were leaving school, Aisha passed Freya a note. Freya read it in the school bathrooms, where she would not been seen reading the note.

  ‘Meet me at the station cafe. 4pm.’ it read.

  Thank goodness it’s not another midnight meeting suggestion! I could do with a friend here - especially someone who is not connected with those were-foxes.

  She resolved that this time, she was going to try to make a friend. Maybe they would move again, but it was too miserable to be friendless amid the were-clan. A friend would be helpful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MAKING A FRIEND

  The station cafe was deserted at 4pm. Freya wondered if she had the right place - though there was only one station in town. Then she wondered if it was deserted due to the were-fox influence. There was no-one with even the slightest hint of ginger frequenting the cafe. Of course, she’d be really easy to spot if anyone else did turn up. Oh well, she could hardly be more disliked by the foxes. And why should they spoil her potential friendships as well as her family unit?

  Freya walked boldly up to the counter, which was staffed by a short, dark, grey-haired woman with smile lines around her eyes. Freya ordered a cold drink - the cheapest thing on the hand-written menu on the cafe wall. She made a face. She preferred warm drinks. A grey cat sat at the end of the counter, probably flouting every health and safety rule there was. It blinked at her, rose, and presented its chin for scratching as Freya neared.

  “You’re a favoured one, then,” commented the woman behind the counter. “Isis here usually scratches rather than purrs.”

  “That can’t be good for business.”

  “Ah, well, it depends what sort of custom you want. We’re usually happy with Isis’s choices.”

  Freya gave the cat its requested pat then sat in a corner with her back to the wall. She surreptitiously put her injured leg up on a chair, under the table where it wouldn’t show. That made it throb a little less. There was no escape route other than the way she came in, but at least she could see if anyone else came in. She felt a little paranoid, thinking so seriously about where she sat, and placing her back to a wall. However, her recent experience with weres had made her much more anxious than usual. A few precautions did not seem unreasonable, or so she told herself.

  Happily, the first person who entered the café after Freya was Aisha. She waved at Freya, patted the cat, who purred loudly, then ordered something from the counter before sliding into the seat opposite Freya. Evidently, she had no qualms about putting her back to the entrance. Freya watched her enviously. Aisha seemed full of energy and confidence in this place – more so than at school, where she tended to blend into the background.

  “Hey, Freya! Glad to see you here. I figured it would be easier to talk outside of school. The walls have ears, there, whereas here, no-one cares what you say. Also, this is my family’s café, so the gingers don’t frequent it, racist bunch that they are.” She paused for a quick sip of her milkshake, then plunged on. “So, what did happen to you? You look like someone gave you a real working over. Are you OK?”

  Freya sipped her own drink, finding that she wasn’t quite ready to talk after all. There was a lump in her throat when she remembered the night of the storm, and the day that followed. Aisha chattered on reassuringly.

  “It’s OK, you can tell me anything, I won’t tell a soul unless you want me to. Not even the cat.” She nodded over her shoulder at the grey cat, who had curled up, tucked its tail around its paws, and appeared to be asleep with its nose on the counter. “It’s not like I’m overwhelmed with besties in this town. In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have red hair and freckles, so I don’t match the local landscape. But my family’s been here for generations, so they have to live with us.”

  Freya had indeed noticed that Aisha’s olive skin and glossy black hair didn’t fit the local trend – indeed, it was a big part of the reason Freya had followed through with meeting Aisha today.

  “Er, yeah, I had noticed that,” she said.

  “So, want to talk about it?” pressed Aisha.

  Freya nodded. “I guess. I need to talk to someone who knows this town.”

  “Well, that’s me for sure,” smiled Aisha. “Like I said, generations! What I don’t know about this town isn’t worth knowing. And if I don’t know, one of my aunts or cousins will.”

  “Alright, then,” Freya said slowly, pressing the cold glass of her drink against her aching cheekbone. “The night of the big storm, I was attacked. And all of the people who attacked me were red-haired. And... rather hairier than you might normally expect. I’m not even really sure how I escaped, except maybe they got hit by lightning, because there was a burning hair smell – really awful – and they suddenly ran off.”

  Freya wasn’t giving Lio away to Aisha yet, either.

  “But even though I was totally soaked by the rain by that time, I didn’t get shocked. Luckily. There was a man standing there, when they ran off, but he went off too, afterwards.” Freya wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to explain Lio or his help. Maybe it was just that she didn’t know Aisha well. “So, I just ran home as fast as I could. Um...” She didn’t want to discuss the further events of that night. “But then, the next morning there was a tree in my room – I mean it had crashed into the house, it only just missed me – and my sister was missing. We found out later that she’d gone off and joined the people who had hurt me. I just can’t understand how she could do that to me. She’s my big sister! She’s supposed to look out for me, right? And I’d spent all day looking for her, even though I could barely walk. She didn’t
even wait for the storm to die down, as far as I can tell – just up and left us in the middle of the night. And I saw her, that day – after the storm, I mean – so I know she’s alive – but she just told me she was leaving our family and it was for the best. How can she possibly say that? Everyone seems to leave my family.” Freya’s voice wobbled, and she closed her mouth tightly, unable to say more without bursting into tears. She blinked rapidly. She didn’t want to cry in public, in front of someone she barely knew.

  Unexpectedly, Aisha nodded.

  “That’s pretty tough,” she said. “My family’s had a few people leave, too, and it never feels good. As for the other... it sounds like you’ve met The Family. They can be pretty rough if they decide you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were lucky to get away. Most of us who aren’t part of The Family run up against them from time to time. They pretty much run this town – but not every part of it.” She added the last bit proudly. “Usually, people leave, or they stay and avoid confrontations. My family stays on our own terms, though.” She paused. “So, the ginger-hairs attacked you, but mysteriously stopped. And then your sister went off and joined them. That’s almost unheard-of. Maybe she was trying to help you, after all.”

  Freya made a face, then wished she hadn’t - it hurt too much.

  “It’s hard to see how leaving our family to join a bunch of violent thugs is helpful,” she said.

  “I know,” replied Aisha, “but if your sister has any sway with them, they are less likely to hurt you again. In any case, if you and your Mum are sticking around, you should probably know some more about the town. Do you have a Dad here, too?”

  “No,” said Freya shortly. Aisha nodded, and thankfully didn’t ask further questions about her Dad. Freya didn’t feel up to relating that sad tale today, on top of everything else.

  “OK then, just the two of you? Plus your sister, who presumably is looking after herself.”

  “Yes, just us,” choked out Freya. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Actually, just us and my cat. He was lost, but I got him back on the night of the storm, too.”

  “A cat, that’s great! Cats are very important in my family. And yours was lost? You must be really happy to get him back then.”

  “I am,” said Freya.

  “Alright, then. I should introduce you to my grandma first. She’s the one who served us. And Isis, she’s the cat.” Aisha called out suddenly, “Nena! Nena, come and meet my friend Freya.”

  The old lady appeared from behind the coffee machine, and hobbled over to their table.

  “Pleased to meet you, Freya,” she said.

  “Nena,” Aisha interrupted. “Freya’s sister just left her family, and Freya’s had some problems with The family. She has a cat, though. Can we do anything for her?” The woman addressed as Nena considered for a moment, then nodded.

  “Isis welcomed her when she arrived, so I expect we can. Isis’s gone to sleep now, though, so we won’t get anything useful from her till she wakes up. No-one here wakes a sleeping cat.” Nena’s voice was unexpectedly serious. “Let your friend finish her drink - and you finish yours, too, Aisha. I don’t make drinks to have them wasted, you know.”

  Thus admonished, Aisha screwed up her face.

  “Yes, Nena.” Aisha took a large gulp of her drink. She waved at Freya to do the same.

  At that moment, the squeal of a train braking to a stop filled the cafe.

  “Oh, bother. I was expecting it to be late again. Come another time,” said Nena. She hastened back to the counter in anticipation of customers.

  “There you are Freya,” said Aisha, “You’ve got my family at your back now too. Whatever else happens, we’ve got this. By the way, did you say you have a tree in your room? I might just have a solution for that.” Her twinkling eyes said that whatever the solution was, it was probably not an orthodox one. “If we go now, I can probably sort it out for you before the next storm. Would you mind if I came to your house?”

  Feeling rather as though a whirlwind had whistled through the room, Freya nodded.

  “Sure. Mum won’t be home yet - she works at the glasshouse, you know. And I have to find something to feed Mr Fluffbum.”

  She gulped the rest of her drink and rose. Aisha took the glasses back to the counter, and whispered something to her grandmother, who rummaged around behind the counter and handed a small package to Aisha.

  “Nena says you’re welcome back anytime, and if The Family give you any problems, you’re to call Bastet.” The cat looked up at Aisha, and transferred its gaze to Freya before blinking and looking away. Freya saw that the cat had one blue eye and one green.

  “Bastet, that’s the Egyptian goddess, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” said Aisha. “We usually call on the cat goddess Bastet, and save Isis the cat for serious emergencies and cafe visitor vetting. You know some mythology then?”

  “Do I ever,” groaned Freya. “You have no idea how many extra lessons I have had in mythology.”

  Aisha laughed.

  “Me too. But mostly Egyptian mythology. My family is pretty focused on that. I even have a brother who’s gone back to Egypt to do archaeology there before the dust storms get so bad they cover up what’s left out there in the desert. It would be way too hot for me there, though. I’ve spent all my life here, in cooler climes. I don’t know how he stands it.”

  Freya looked at Aisha consideringly. Was she not a pure human? Extra mythology lessons were a good clue, as was the suggestion to call on a cat goddess. Not to mention the willingness to let a cat sleep, although that on its own wasn’t a giveaway.

  “So, does your family have any particular ways of dealing with the gingers? The Family, I mean?”

  Aisha laughed again.

  “We sure do. You might figure it out when we get to your place and see how I deal with the tree.” She giggled, apparently vastly amused by her private joke.

  Aisha hustled Freya to the front door of the cafe. A light drizzle misted the air. Aisha looked at it resentfully before marching staunchly into the rain. They walked uphill from the station, out through the grimly layered houses till they reached Freya’s own house, right on the end of its row. Out here on the edge of town, houses stuttered out into countryside, but Freya’s house clung agoraphobically to the buildings beside it. The mighty oak that had toppled was still sticking half-in, half out of the roof. From this angle, it was evident that Freya had barely touched the surface in her efforts with the secateurs. Great branches reached skywards, and broken ones reached into the roof of the house. Tiles were scattered on the roof, and a few had fallen in front of the house. The remaining leaves on the tree were wilted and sad. Aisha whistled.

  “Wow, that’s quite a tree. Lucky you weren’t in your room when that one fell in!”

  “Oh, but I was! I was rescuing supplies from under the bed! I couldn’t believe it when I came out and it was spearing my pillow with one branch. Pretty creepy, when even the trees seem to be trying to kill you.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Aisha. “I’ll deal to this killer tree in seconds, just wait and see.”

  Freya led her inside. Mr Fluffbum met Freya at the front door, mewing frantically and weaving around her legs. She almost tripped as she tried to walk down the hall far enough to let Aisha in. Mr Fluffbum glanced briefly at Aisha and narrowed his eyes a little before returning his attention to Freya.

  “I know, you’re hungry, aren’t you, Mr Fluffbum. I’ll try and get some money from Mum tonight to buy you some food, alright?”

  Aisha cleared her throat.

  “I might be able to help with that. Nena gave me this for you.” She held out the small package. Freya took it cautiously, and peeled back the newspaper that wrapped it.

  “Thanks! That’s so thoughtful.” Her eyes misted a little as she took the tin of cat food.

  “No problem. It’s important for us to look after cats.”

  Freya deployed half the cat food, to M
r Fluffbum’s evident delight. She put the remainder in the fridge for later.

  “Well, now that you’ve won over my cat, perhaps I can show you my other problem.” She led the way up the stairs. At the entrance to Freya’s room, Aisha stopped.

  “No need to ask if this is the right room, is there?” she asked rhetorically. The room was half full of branches and wilted leaves. “Can you wait here? And don’t make a sound, alright? Even if you really hate bugs.”

  This sounds ominous. Have I done the right thing, inviting her here?

  But it was much too late for second thoughts.

  Aisha raised her arms above her head, and cried out.

  “A sacrifice, great Bastet. Take this mighty oak as your due.”

  A great humming filled the air, as of a thousand locusts. In fact, Freya realised, it was a thousand locusts, chewing their way through the tree from above. The large insects worked with incredible speed, and before many minutes had passed, the tree was gone, branches, trunk and all, eaten alive by thousands of tiny mouths. The locusts rose up in a swarm, and disappeared in the direction of the sea.

  Freya was momentarily speechless. She drew breath.

  “Well. That wasn’t what I expected. I thought you would call a few of your family with chainsaws, or something. Or maybe an army of cats to scratch the oak to bits. Though I think oak’s the strongest wood we have, so that might take a bit longer.”

  Aisha laughed again.

  “Oh, in a way I did.” She winked. “Cousins, sort-of. Super distant ones. With miniature chainsaw mouths. It’s a family connection, anyway. A Bastet speciality.” She looked worriedly at Freya. “You don’t mind, do you? You seemed like the sort who can deal with a few out-of-the-ordinary solutions.”

  Freya swallowed. She was used to out-of-the-ordinary, but less used to swarms of locusts.