Page 8 of The Light Within

The calendar dangling on the wall caught Cinn’s attention. He tapped on today’s date, disbelief seeping through him. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“It’s Christmas Day in four days. How did we not notice?” Cinn whirled around to catch Julien pulling a face.

“Urg,Christmas. I hoped everyone would forget.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas Scrooge. I can’t stand those types.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who go crazy for it. Actually, scrap that, you’re British. Of course you do.”

Bright, tinsel-coloured fragments of memories, almost certainly rose-tinted, crowded Cinn’s mind. “It used to be a happier time of year when I was a kid. Then it got pretty shitty in foster care. But the last few years have been great. What’s not to love about presents and too much food?”

Sighing, Julien interlocked his fingers behind his head, leaning backwards as if pained. “I suppose I can pretend to love it, just for you. Fair warning, Darcy will go home to her loving parents in Scotland. Can you believe it?” He pulled a face of mock disgust. “But Elliot will probably be around.”

Cinn turned back to the calendar. It wasn’t too late for him to fly back to England, to spend it with whoever was around. Tempting, but no. As much as Julien presented as all-too-happy to ignore Christmas, Cinn couldn’t leave him. Didn’twantto leave him.

The pages of the calendar shook slightly in a non-existent breeze. Cinn’s eyes flicked to the ladder shelf, where a minute hum buzzed. He squinted. The objects were vibrating ever so slightly, the leaves of the plants quivering.

That’s when the first tremor became obvious. Subtle, yes, but enough for Cinn to feel the pulse of energy thread through him. “What was that?”

“Construction downstairs?” Julien said slowly, tone lacking conviction. Another minor tremor passed under them, and Julien failed to disguise his alarm, jumping to his feet to head to the glass wall that faced Talwacht’s centre.

Cinn followed, grabbing on to Julien’s arm. “Should we evacuate?”

“Let’s not panic.” A small furrow formed between Julien’s eyebrows as a rumble tore through the apartment—distant thunder? It didn’t sound like it.

Nothing of note was visible outside the window, but as seconds passed, the tremors intensified, growing stronger with each passing moment.

“At what pointdowe panic?” That ship had long since sailed for Cinn. His heart thundered in his chest as he shamelessly clung onto Julien’s arm.

The room began to sway almost imperceptibly as the rattle of objects bouncing against shelves increased to a deafening crescendo. Several alarms in other apartments pinged, creating a chorus of warning.

Finally, a gasp from Julien. He pointed across the town to where another high-rise building was visibly shaking.

What were you meant to do in an earthquake, again? Cinn had no real clue, fluctuating between suggesting they hide under the dining table or flee outside. Outside, onto the main road, where things could fall on them. Flatten them like pancakes, crush their bones into dust.

“We need to…” Cinn couldn’t finish his thought. Every intake of breath offered him an insubstantial amount of oxygen as his legs turned to watery jelly. The gold band around his wrist warmed with his rising adrenaline-fuelled heart rate. It would prevent him from shadowslipping, but it wouldn’t save them from being buried alive.

Then came the unmistakable sensation of the floor beneath them shifting violently, as the earthquake’s intensity surged. The glass wall rippled ominously, warping inwards as the largest tremor so far blasted through the room.

“Julien!”

With a horrific crack, the glass succumbed to the relentless force, fracturing into a spiderweb of fissures that spread with alarming speed.

Cinn dove backwards, tripping over something in the process, sending both him and Julien tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck!”

The glass exploded inward in a shower of deadly shards. Cinn’s arm flew up to cover his face, and he braced, readying himself to feel the stinging bite of razor-sharp fragments.

They didn’t come. Cinn unpeeled his firmly clamped eyelids to find the thousands of shiny shards flying away from them, and Julien kneeling, attention focussed solely on the glassless windowpane. A torrent of strong wind, originating from behind them, pushed every shard of glass outwards to tumble down onto the road.

“You certainly picked a good time to start channelling again,” Cinn said meekly, rising quickly to his unsteady feet. “Now let’s get out of here.”

Julien didn’t need persuading. Swiping up their rucksacks en route, they dashed straight to the front door. By instinct, Cinn half moved towards the elevator before Julien yanked on his arm, pointing to a door that led to a staircase. Julien may then have said something, but Cinn’s ears rang from the deafening cacophony of alarms and the roar of the continuing series of quake-induced shudders. With gritted teeth, they pounded down the emergency staircase, hands interlocked and squeezing each other to the point of pain. Each concrete step was a precarious dance as the building trembled around them. The treacherous descent was made even more ominous by lights flickering through the choking haze of dust that filled the air, making Cinn’s eyes water.

At last, their endless journey downwards came to its conclusion, and they burst through a fire door onto the main road.

---