R.E.solve (Rain Experience Book 2)

by Thomas W. Everson

  “Rest, Rain. We’ll take it from here.” She rubs my chin gently and leaves.

  My head already feels light, and there’s no one to embarrass myself in front of. For that I’m thankful. It makes me tired also. I drift in and out. Things blur together. At some times I am fully aware, while others there is only a sense of existence and nothing more. While I’m adrift in my mind, staring at the walls, Eve appears on the stairs.

  How did she get up there? I don’t remember seeing her.

  She creeps down without making a noise, and finds her way over to me. Sitting on the edge of the couch she talks, but I don’t understand. My hand acquires a mind of its own and reaches up to stroke her arm. She tears up. Leaning over she presses her lips against mine. But rather than one of her forceful, passionate kisses, it’s gentle and quick. The tears which had streamed down her face ran from her lips to mine, and I taste the saltiness.

  “I’m sorry,” her voice comes into clarity and it’s unlike her normal demeanor. The words are soft and it makes me feel strange. I try to keep my thoughts in line, but they’re fragmented because of the medication.

  Why? I don’t feel angry with her. It wasn’t her fault.

  Why does she have to be nice? She’s making things harder for me. I want to like Ami.

  It was easier to not like her when she was violent and brash. No, Eve.

  I can’t.

  Despite the numerous thoughts running through my head, not a single one slips out. We sit together silently, Eve caressing my arm. I fade out again.

  Before I slip away into a restful state, Emma appears and picks a fight with Eve. At first everything is hazy like before, but I open my heavy eyelids and focus on the conversation.

  “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Emma berates her.

  “I was just telling him I’m sorry you hit him. Something I bet you didn’t do,” Eve replies.

  Eve leans over and hugs me. I have no ability to react under the influence of the medicine. Emma glares as Eve heads back upstairs. When Eve is gone Emma lies on the couch, resting her head on my leg and draping her arms backward across me.

  “I can’t stay for too long, the broth is cooking down, but I need to keep an eye on it.” She pauses for a moment. “I’m sorry I hit you. I didn’t mean to.”

  I need help. Maybe Aggy will help. I need advice.

  Closing my eyes again, peace comes in the darkness. It doesn’t seem like long before I am drifting further from consciousness.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  A light tapping on the front door awakens me. Sitting up, the smell of the soup has wafted into the room. My mouth waters. My senses are returning to normal.

  The tapping on the front door comes again but when I turn to look at the window, there’s no one there. Hoping it’s not a member of the tribe, I fear I might have to confront them to turn them away. It takes a little effort to hoist myself up due to a pounding headache, but I manage to find my way over to the door.

  The door creaks as I pull it open. When I see what lies beyond I can’t react fast enough. Drake is there in his black armor. The darkness of his stare burns into my soul. His malicious grin, full of rotted teeth and decaying breath makes me nauseated. I try to protest but my voice is caught in my throat when I see him brandish a familiar curved blade. Grabbing me by the shoulder he pulls me in close and plunges it into my gut. Pain shoots through my body as it pierces all the way through. I struggle, but his grip is firm, keeping me in place while the blade does its job.

  “I found you brother,” he whispers in my ear. “This time, you die!”

  “Why?” I manage to choke out.

  “You should not have inherited the throne. It was mine! You are not fit to rule any longer!”

  Everything seems to move in slow motion as he dumps my body on the floor, retracting his short sword. My sight becomes blurry, and when I refocus the four women are standing over me in a circle. My head is the last to hit, and when it does I black out.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Waking abruptly I sit straight up and nearly collide with Ami. Her hands are on my shoulders and it appears she was shaking me. Bucking her grip, I scramble to lift my shirt and inspect my abdomen. The scar is there. No blood, no open wound. My eyes dart around the room and Drake is not here. His evil presence lingers, though.

  “You were having a nightmare. It was about Drake again.” She attempts to console me with gentle caressing.

  “I know.” I pant heavily, trying to come down from the rush of fear. “He’s my brother, and his attempt on my life was jealousy over my being king.”

  “It’s okay. He’s not here and he can’t get you. He isn’t born at this point.”

  My body is hot and itchy. I scratch and it moves, crawling through my skin. “I know, but I can’t shake the feeling of dread.”

  Something is wrong. That wasn’t like the previous dreams. Why were the four of them standing around me as I fell? He said ‘I found you’. Was this a premonition?

  Out of the corner of my eye I see three heads poking out of the kitchen. Smiling weakly causes them to quickly disappear. I rub my face and realize it’s quite swollen.

  “They’re just worried about you. I told them you’d be all right,” Ami says. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Was I out that long?” I ask while she assists me in standing up.

  “It’s only been a few hours. You’re going to bed after you eat so your body can rest and your broken nose can heal.”

  We enter the kitchen and she sets me in my normal chair. My dinner is already in front of me just waiting. Steam from the chicken soup reaches my nostrils, but I’m only able to breathe through one as I inhale. My spoon shakes in my unsteady hand. I try to bring some soup to my mouth, and fail. The soup ends up back in the bowl.

  This is ridiculous! How can I be so afraid of him? He isn’t here! He isn’t born! And I’m powerful!

  My nerves calm as Ami leans over my shoulder and places her cheek against mine. She nuzzles me briefly. Taking the spoon from my hand she starts feeding me, blowing on each bite. This garners a reaction from Eve and Emma. Angry stares beat at Ami, but she lets out a small scoff.

  “You had yours earlier,” Ami states. Their eyes widen and I’m confused by the reaction. Eve continues to stare but Emma drops her eyes to her bowl.

  “What?” I mumble.

  “Don’t worry about it, Rain.”

  Eve finally returns her attention to her own bowl. Knowing they aren’t staring anymore allows me to feel a little more at ease. Agatha smiles sympathetically.

  “I think I can manage now,” I tell Ami. “You need to eat too.”

  My jitters have subsided, and my hand is steadier when I bring the spoon to my mouth. Ami takes her seat and our meal is quiet. When we’re finished, we sit there exchanging glances for a few minutes. But sitting still doesn’t feel right. I become restless and begin to take my bowl to the sink. Agatha appears at my side and taps my hand lightly while stealing the bowl away. She leaves me standing there, smiling over her shoulder in the motherly way I’ve become accustomed to.

  “Do you want help?” I ask.

  “No, I’ll handle it,” she says.

  I thank her by giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Did I kiss my own mother’s cheek? What kind of relationship did I have with her?

  Returning to the living room, a faint glow seeps from between the cracks in the curtains. There are numerous fires spread out through the camp, and there’s a lot of movement. But to my surprise, none of the indigenous people have crossed into our territory. It seems like for now they’ve gone back to their lives.

  Backing away, my foot catches something against the wall, knocking it over. Instinct kicks in and I jerk my body down to catch it. I miss and my sword hits the floor with a ‘thud.’

  Picking it up, I pull the sword from its sheath. In the open living room I brandish the sword. Testing its balance, I swinging it in
mock attacks and blocks. Though its wider base makes it heavier than a traditional sword, it’s still easily managed.

  Why would they have rounded the top edge though?

  I stop for a moment and run my thumb over the top. It’s sharp enough that with light pressure, it draws a trickle of blood. Sticking my thumb in my mouth, I suck on it until the bleeding stops.

  Returning to my practice, it helps me relieve some built up anxiety. I become accustomed to the sword. I move faster and become more coordinated. Frustration replaces the anxiety as I dance with my blade. My body takes control and things become hazy while rage builds. I imagine myself against Drake. I hear his voice in the back of my mind.

  “You are not fit to rule any longer!” His voice lingers.

  Block, thrust, parry.

  What made me unfit to rule? Was he just blinded by jealousy? He was older than me. Why did I inherit the throne?

  Swing, dodge, chop.

  I no longer feel in control of my body. I’m like an actor on a stage; I know what my next move is as it comes. My body reacts, as if I’ve gone through all of these motions already. Quick and decisive attacks, blocks, and a sweeping blow. I stare down in contempt at an empty floor, holding my sword as if it were to someone’s throat. My mind begins to recall some of the lost information.

  No longer within the house, I’m surrounded by the woods. I’m waiting alone for Drake, my brother.

  That’s right. He wanted to meet in private. I chose the place and time so I could arrive first.

  I see him coming in the distance, riding his stallion. Within the shadows of the forest, his black armor is unmistakable. I wait upon my steed. Looking down briefly my hand is gripping the hilt of a sheathed sword. My silver armor glimmers as a wind shifts the leaves above. I prepare to draw as he nears.

  My vision blurs for a moment. When it returns Drake and I are in the midst of fighting a grueling battle with one another. I attempt to stay on top of him with my weapon clashing loudly against his. The reverberations through the metal are strong, but I hold my grip.

  Our movements are blinding fast. We each know the other’s fighting style, and react accordingly to avoid being sliced or run through. Despite it feeling like a long battle, it only lasts minutes. I finally gain the upper hand when there’s an opening to slam my shoulder into him and put my leg behind him. He stumbles on me and trips over a root. I am upon him and the tip of my sword rests at his throat, threatening to puncture the main artery. We huff, exhausted.

  “Our hands are dirty brother,” he chuckles. “And your time is over.”

  “The throne is mine,” I tell him.

  “Not any longer.”

  “It would have been yours in the first place if you had not killed our parents.” I yell. “You are an ungrateful brat. You were banished and I brought you back! I gave you purpose! I see now I should have just killed you.”

  “You do not have it in you to kill me now! I am the one who carried out your assassinations! You had to have your servants kill for you because you are weak!”

  I’m snapped back to reality as a cool hand touches my bare arm. It’s Emma, and she’s concerned. I’m left feeling unclean and I wrench away from her. Returning the sword to its home, I take it with me as I head outside to the well.

  Dropping it into the grass I trade it for the handle to pull the bucket up. A full bucket of cool water dumped over my head brings my temperature down and I let the water drip off of my face. Looking back, I’m alone for now, and I’m thankful.

  Assassinations? I don’t know how to deal with that. There’s no reason he would have said what he did as a trick. I wasn’t having memory problems then. Was I a bad person?

  I can’t be around them right now. If they knew I was involved in assassinations, what would they think of me then?

  With my back against the well, I slide down into the grass. Tears stream down my face and I can’t control them. Clasping the sword against my chest, I cross my arms and stare up into the night sky. My eyelids become heavy. I am too tired to hold them open. A deep sigh escapes my lips and I let them close.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The morning comes too soon. The sun begins to illuminate everything. I push a blanket off of me, and I don’t recall how it got there. As if the world were waiting for me, a cold breeze passes by as soon as the blanket is on the ground. I’m refreshed, despite the awkward sleeping position of sitting against the well and an unknown quality of sleep.

  I push to my feet. My legs wobble and it feels as though I’m fighting vertigo. I strap the sword’s belt on so that I can carry the blanket unhindered. But when I bend over I nearly lose my balance. I try to shake it off, but the unsteadiness worsens. One foot after another I struggle to make it to the house.

  When screams come from inside, and a loud chatter arises from the tribe surrounding the house, I realize it’s not me that’s having the problem.

  Earthquake!

  I attempt to run to the door. The blanket trips me up. Hitting the ground I can feel the intensity of the shaking increase. The house begins to sway on its foundation. I leave the blanket behind, crawling toward the steps. The quaking makes everything difficult, but I grip the doorknob for stability.

  I shove the door open and yell. “Agatha!”

  She appears in the kitchen door and motions for me to move around the outside of the house.

  “Is this an early time shift?” I yell across the room.

  Shaking her head she yells back, “No, this quake is too heavy! And we would have seen the vortex by now! Go out to the garden! The girls are there!”

  I leave the house and make my way around the other side, using the building as a brace. The earthquake doesn’t let up, instead it intensifies. The ground cracks nearby and drowns out panicked screams and yelling from the tribal people.

  The women are huddled by the apple tree, gripping it tightly. When I reach them my attention is diverted and I behold something terrifying. Outside our perimeter, to the right, the ground rolls like an ocean wave, tearing through a large section of the tribe’s camp. But the horror really begins when a chasm opens up, swallowing people, tents and animals alike.

  Scattering, the people of the tribe try to escape, but the chasm grows larger. The plains buck and roll like a stormy sea, and the ground rips wide open. Watching as they are consumed and seeing their distress, my instinctive need to help overpowers me. My legs work faster than my brain, already carrying me toward people in peril.

  I ignore the cries from my family as I reach the edge of our yard. The chasm stops short of our boundary, but begins to circle around us, blocking my path. Taking a few steps back, I start running and upon reaching the edge, I leap and propel myself to the other side with a short burst shockwave.

  Despair from these people screams in my head. The darkness begins welling up inside. Even though I can’t understand their language, I know they want to be saved, they don’t want to die. But between the despair within and the people running all different directions it’s hard to focus on who to save.

  When I see a woman slip into another chasm several yards ahead, I run to her aide. She has grabbed the edge of quickly collapsing dirt and I dive to grab her arms. My arms interlock with hers and I lie across the ground trying not to let her slip into the dark pit below. It takes all of the strength I can muster to wiggle backward and pull her up. Some younger tribal men stop and with a tug, she is freed from the hole. Pulled to safety, I point and shove them off in a direction away from the ever widening chasm and its offshoots.

  In the middle of the largest chasm stands a pillar of stone and dirt with people trapped on it. A little girl wails and a woman appears next to me, pointing and yelling. The pillar begins to buckle as the dirt around it sloughs off, causing a couple to fall in. The little girl stands in the middle screaming as the ground quickly disintegrates around her.

  This is going to hurt.

  I leave the woman to gain some distance. With a
good running start, I plant my feet at the edge of the chasm, squat and leap. My hands release shockwaves and I shoot skyward. My legs flail and I try to position them in front of me as I reach the peak of my ascent. Coming in too fast, I’m forced to tuck and roll so my legs don’t snap backward. But by some miracle, I’m back up on my feet, running with the girl under my left arm. The next edge comes up too quickly and when I bound from it, I have only one hand to propel myself.

  I veer to the left, out of control. Knowing it’s impossible to land on my feet this time, I roll midair to save the girl. My back contacts with the ground. The thud shakes my body and I exhale sharply. Skidding across the dusty plain, I feel rocks and brush cutting my skin. I come to a stop, the girl in my arms, safe.

  It takes me a moment to recover but the urgency of the chasms opening up across the land motivates me. Standing up, we are separated from her probable mother.

  “Hey!” I yell at one of the tribe members a hundred yards off trying to help someone else.

  I pick the girl back up and begin running, trying to gain his attention. He looks back and stops just long enough for me to catch him. I point at the woman now sprinting to safety and thrust the little girl in his arms. Taking her and another child, he runs, following the crowds.

  I survey my surroundings and I’m trapped. People are being consumed by the ground left and right. The main chasm has wrapped around the house and continued to splinter off like veins as far as the eye can see. Few people are left in the immediate area, either swallowed up or moved to a safe zone beyond the cracks. The quaking slows and the bucking of the ground lessens but the damage is heavy. Large chunks of ground continue to fall into the black depths.

  A cry for help gains my attention. I track it to one of the larger openings and over the ledge rests a chunk of land. A man clambers to find a way back up, but his digging causes another heavy shift. I drop to my stomach and reach my arms out, but he’s lost his balance. His arms flail outward. At the risk of falling in, I slide down enough to grab them. I lift him up enough to grab the ledge, but the ground has another jolt for us. We’re both tossed in.