Page 47 of The Space Traveller's Lover
Suddenly, the ground starts rumbling and shaking violently. Its shifting surface ruptures and cracks wide open all around the gathering crowd. As an encircling chain of collapsing sinkholes relentlessly shoves forward, Shaillah allows the petrified people to move again. Everyone flees in panic from the crumbling ground. They jump over the fence or drive through it, until they all end up congregating close to the farmhouse, the newly formed wide moat surrounding them all.
They must understand our power. There cannot be any doubt about our superior force. Kuzhma-Or sends his message to her.
The black swirling clouds finally burst into thick torrents of heavy rain as hurricane-force winds form broad menacing tornados, violently rotating all around the farm field. Everyone runs to find a safer place, drenched by the constant deluge, encircled by the relentless wind, and deafened by the incessant cracks of thunder. They cram into or underneath the parked vehicles, but many of them cannot find shelter, ending up in a tight group of mud-covered bodies relentlessly battered by the fierce storm. The collective fear soon turns into a helpless wait for certain imminent death.
Sam and his family have found refuge under one of the police vans. They can see Captain Walker and Professor Khan also hiding under one of the scattered trucks nearby. Sam feels powerless as he watches his mother and sister scream in panic, lying under his father’s arms. He drags himself as far out as he can from under the vehicle, and while surveying the chaotic scenes in front of him, he starts to suspect that this mighty terrifying turmoil may not be completely natural. Despite the fierce wind, the drenching rain, the shuddering tremors, and the ear-splitting thunderbolts, it all seems entirely controlled to cause extreme fear but not actual damage to the people.
The ominously growing twisters seem to keep spinning around the farm perimeter. The collapsing sinkholes have stopped at the very edgeof where everyone has desperately congregated. Even the pelting rain has turned into a warm pouring stream.
This is weird—tornados, tremors, sinkholes; yet we seem to be in one piece, he thinks, trying in vain to move out from underneath the vehicle against the strong wind.
“Erin, Shaillah, will you stop it? Stop this for God’s sake,” he shouts as loudly as he can.
By now, the ARA’s large Navy fleet is approaching the island’s west coast. As the surveillance planes fly as close as possible to the Lobarts’ farm site, the officers watch in awe at the multiple tornados rotating around the farmhouse, encircling a confined area of torrential rain and strong downdrafts holding everything down to the ground.
The bright flashes of lightning occasionally illuminate the darkened scene, allowing a better view. At least they can report that a large number of people, crowding in a packed gathering, all seem to be still alive.
At times, Sam keeps calling Shaillah’s name. But as time passes, his hopes of some respite are fading fast.
“Oh Sam, what’s she doing? When will it stop?” Martha cries, fearing the worst is yet to come. She hugs her son tightly while straining her eyes and looking into the distance. She can hardly see through her sore eyes, but suddenly, a light manages to pierce through her swollen eyelids.
“What’s that bright light?” She points at the flickering light floating over the farmhouse porch.
Instinctively, Sam crawls forwards from beneath the van, and as he stands up outside, he can hardly believe he has made it out in the open. He looks up and stretches out his arms as if he has won a mighty battle, feeling relieved that the howling wind is not pushing him back any longer and there is no sign of the frightening tornados. Soon his father, mother, and sister crawl out from under the vehicle and stand beside him.
They stroll forward, focusing on the point of light quivering and spreading over the concave invisible barrier. All over the glimmering surface, fast-moving multicolour light waves suddenly appear, intertwining and vibrating in synchrony. As the shifting light patterns keep swirling and throbbing, casting an eerie glow all around, Sam scans his surroundings with an uneasy gaze.
The dazed crowd slowly approaches, walking like hypnotised zombies lost in a foggy night, leaving behind their muddy, parked vehicles. As they keep moving forwards, never taking their eyes off the enticing display, they welcome the radiant warmth bathing their shivering bodies.
Behind them, the collapsed ground and trenches are flooded to the brim, its surface glimmering like a sleek river of flowing mercury as it reflects the fluorescent light show.
As Sam looks towards the farmhouse, a heavy hand lands on his left shoulder. He knows it is Professor Khan before he turns his head to look up. He notices his once white beard, entirely caked in dark soil and his restless pupils, reflecting the wild dancing flashes in front of him.
“What’s next, eh?” Khan ponders with a flabbergasted expression.
Before Sam can respond, a pulsating drumming sound rumbles across the site. He turns to watch the striking display in front of him as the growing light streaks, all vibrating at the same rhythm, seem to be creating the distinctive pounding tune.
Even the disembarking soldiers can hear the overpowering sound thumping through the air. It’s like a summoning call, a solemn invitation to a pre-announced gathering. They send more helicopters and more combat vehicles to surround the still inaccessible site.
Shaillah’s silhouette is barely distinguishable behind the vivid translucent barrier. She looks up and around, counting the number of heavy weapons and spotlights pointing directly at her.
“Don’t shoot!” She hears multiple voices from the loudspeakers.
“As if that would make any difference,” she smiles triumphantly, walking with her head held high into the open air. Immediately, the light show behind her turns into a barely visible shade of ghostly swirls, making her figure stand out like a brightly burning candle.
Time seems to stand still. Her radiant body appears to have robbed the Midnight Moon of the limelight as her floodlit silky white hair and silver bodysuit contrast sharply against the hazy background. Her eyes sparkle in the deepest purple glow, commanding undivided attention.
She smiles back at the gathering as if acknowledging their bafflement; then, as the booming sound stops, she opens her arms while looking directly at the sky.
“Suan enjie Rom-Ghenshar!” she exclaims.
Everyone is in a daze as she slowly scans the front row of people until she finds Professor Khan’s startled face. “By now, Professor Khan, you must have realised this is not a hoax.”
Khan feels a hardened lump in his throat as he tries to answer. He manages to open his mouth, but he can’t utter a word as his muscles freeze in absolute shock.
“Very well.” She continues as if she had heard an affirmative answer. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Shaillah. And I bring you a message from my ancestors, the Rom-Ghenshars. The time has come to face our past, change our present, and build a different future.”
Shaillah intently stares at the crowd as she speaks in a loud, firm voice, pausing from time to time to focus her defiant eyes on the armed soldiers pointing at her.
