Meteors: Chapter Two - The Stranger

Greyscale photo of crowd of people standing on ground - Credit to Rob Curran on Unsplash

Read Chapter One here.

Read Chapter Three here.

The bombs were still falling, louder and louder by the moment. Down in the basement, Owain had lost all sense of time. They’d practiced this before, but then it had been some level of fun, it was new and almost a competition, to see who could get in fastest. Who could be the most helpful. Who could bring the most food. Etc, etc. It was the sound that was making things worse. The whole town was squidged into these rooms in differing states of disarray. Nearly everyone was in their pyjamas, some had woken early to start work, and some hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Everyone was drenched, and shivering, clamouring to get blankets from Pamela.

Because Owain had run to his own flat to get his family down, he had not been one of the first to arrive. He’d helped his dad limp down the stairs, as his mum carried little Ivona and all the food she had been able to grab when she first heard the sirens. She was busy on her phone now, texting the rest of their family she hadn’t seen in the crowds, and friends. Making sure they were alive, making sure they were safe. His Dad had sat down next to her, and was staring off into the distance, holding the piece of boat Owain had pulled out of his own arm. His friends had been on that boat. People he’d worked with for years. When Owain saw he was crying, he gave him his privacy.

Owain walked to the furthest corner of the basement he could find, ‘walked’ being a loose term. He had to squeeze through the crowd, careful not to step on anyone’s feet, or belongings. He kept his head down. Reaching his destination, he sat down on the ledge that ran around the bottom of the walls. He could just about hear Robert over the chattering crowds.

He was calming them down. Reminding them that this war had been declared months ago, before the new year of 2017 had rolled around. They had responded to Kailix’s call for help, and as such, started preparing. They had sent their young people to Ohlendia for that very reason, the only place guaranteed to stay neutral in this entire conflict. Their young people have joined the army, and others have chosen to stay, to keep Ahlden running, to keep their town of Sobetween safe. They had to stand together. They have to remain calm and carry on.

They continued waiting, and Owain continued bleeding, shivering, the basement hadn’t been provided with heating yet. It was on the plans. Owain didn’t want to cause a fuss, people were worried enough as it was. He texted his mum to let her know that he was just in the corner so she wouldn’t worry as to wear she’d disappeared to, and sat there, his hand clamped over his arm, praying that this would stop. The bombing, the war, the bleeding, the noise, all of it. It was too much. He leaned forwards, bracing himself against his knees. He just needed to breathe.

“Dude, you okay?” Owain didn’t respond. The likelihood that the voice was speaking to him was slim, “Is that… you idiot,” That caught his attention. That and the hands gently removing his own from his arm, “Owain, right? The one who rang the bells?”

Owain looked at the girl in front of him. She looked to be about his age, something about her was familiar, though she was tanned. A rare sight in Sobetween, it was quite a difficult achievement with their lack of sun. She rolled up his sleeve to reveal the gash, and he flinched as she applied something to his arm.

“Don’t be a wimp, it’s just water,” She had a soothing voice, deep, almost musical.

“I’ve had enough of water for today,” He mumbled. He couldn’t make out her face. His eyes were stinging; had he been crying? He didn’t know. But to add to that, her hair was in the way, long and dark it obscured her features. It was also straight as a poker, though maybe it was just that the rain had caught her too.

“Yeah, heard you went for a dip before this,” She had grabbed some kind of cream from her bag.

“Not willingly,”

“Shocker”, she applied the cream to his arm, covering the wound. She saw his questioning look, and continued talking “Ailath cream, should reduce the inflammation, keep it from swelling,”

“Why haven’t I -,”

“It’s Illian, they don’t really grow over here. Something to do with the soil acidity,”

“Oh,”

“Stay still,” She had pulled a roll of bandage out of her bag, and after placing a pad over his wound, she started winding it around his arm.

“Why’ve you got all that in your bag?” She tied off the bandage, stepped back, and finally looked at him, a small smile on her face.

“I have everything in my bag,” Owain wasn’t quite sure if he heard that properly. It wasn’t that it was a strange sentence, it was more that he had finally seen her properly, without her hair obscuring her.

She was beautiful. Her eyes were as grey as the stormy skies outside, and she – she was as lovely as her voice.

“Huh,” Was all he managed to say, as he tried to gather his bearings. He looked away, he shouldn’t stare, but – oh yes, his arm.  He looked down to the bandage neatly wrapped around his wound, “It doesn’t hurt anymore,”

“Ailath cream, it’s magic,” She tilted her head, seeming to think for a moment, “Not actually, but it’s close,” She rolled his sleeve back down his arm.

“Thanks,” He trailed off, hoping she would provide her name. How had he never seen this woman before?

“Ruth,” She responded, “No problem. It’s not my first rodeo”

“Not your first rodeo?” Ruth closed her eyes; she looked like she was berating herself.

“I didn’t grow up around here, I uh, grew up in Ohlendia. South-east. It’s not particularly safe at the moment,” She said, haltingly, “That’s why we’re back,”

“Who’s –” Owain had been going to ask who “we” was. Maybe he knew some of her family. But he was preventing by the Baker, Bread Ed, pushing his way through. He was the brother of Salmon Ed. His name was David.

“You’re the stranger!” He announced, pointing one thick finger in Ruth’s face. She tilted her head, giving him an inquisitive look, but said nothing.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Owain asked, standing up. He was still shivering, and he knew he didn’t paint an imposing picture, especially not against Bread Ed.

“How’d you think they found us, Owain? No one finds Sobetween, everyone knows that!” He jabbed his finger at Ruth again, “She led them to us,”

“You have no eviden-“

“I don’t need no evidence; you’re the only stranger here. You’re the only one who could be the spy!” People were starting to gather around, talking among themselves as they listened to this confrontation. It was more engaging that listening for the next bomb to drop.

“Sir, if you’ll just listen, I can explain -,” She began, but now, Bread Ed turned on Owain.

“And you! How is it you survived? My brother, all his crew, gone! But you stand there in his uniform and somehow survived a bomb? How do we know you don’t have anything to do with this?”

Owain wanted to cringe back, but stood his ground, trying to look Bread Ed in the eye, and trying to blink away the suspicious wetness accumulating in his eyes.

“Sir, he’s the one who rang the bells-,”

“I was meant to start today, but the boat wasn’t there-” Ruth and Owain spoke at the same time, but another voice chimed in.

“What are you saying about my son, David?”

The situation was lost. As soon as Owain heard his Dad’s voice, he knew it. He was a kind and gentle man, but the moment anyone said anything bad about his family, he was ready to throw hands. Owain had learnt as a kid not to mention if people had pointed out his white hair, because of the fuss his dad would make over it, when more often than not it was just curiosity. Someone accusing his son of anything like this was going to prompt a bigger response than usual. He was already limping towards Bread Ed, and though he was shorter than the baker, there was something about his wiry frame that was more intimidating. To his credit, Ed lost some of his attitude. Only some. Especially as another bomb dropped somewhere nearby in that moment of silence. Owain glanced at Ruth, she had closed her eyes, and her jaw was clenched, hard. Something was wrong.

They were shouting now, and he could still hear the bombs falling, and the people talking, and pointing. He was the one who saved them, that was what he could hear in the whisperings, but he couldn’t take pride in it when they were pointing at Ruth and calling her a spy, murmuring unfounded accusations, and Ruth had fallen back to the wall, sitting down, staring into the distance. Was she even looking at anything? He watched as she was rocking back and forth, lips pressed tight together and staring forward. Staring into nothing.

“Shut up!” Owain yelled, jumping between his Dad and Bread Ed. “Just, shut up! She’s not the reason there’s a war on! No one here caused anything!” He rolled his sleeve up, showing the bandage. “She helped me, okay? So just, chill or something, please!”

He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Everyone but Ruth, who was still rocking in the corner, but now the attention was drawn away from her.

“The boy’s right. No one here caused this war,” It was Robert, finally pushing himself through the crowd, “He saved us. And I vouch with him for Ruth,”

“She’s a stranger,” Bread Ed countered. Robert fixed him with a stern look. Owain drowned out whatever response Robert gave, as he left the little circle for Robert to deal with, and sat next to Ruth. There was an explosion, but it was further away this time.

“They’re going away, Ruth, you’re safe here,” He said, not quite sure what to do. He wouldn’t mention it, but she was crying, so silently he wouldn’t have been able to tell if he couldn’t see the tears. “Roberts dealing with them. He’s really cool, really good at dealing with idiots,” That provoked a little smile. Her breathing was getting under control. He put a hand on her shoulder and patted it, not sure if this was the right thing to do. She laughed a little. She wasn’t rocking anymore.

“Thank you, Owain. I’ll let Gramps know you think he’s cool,”

Gramps?

Wait a second.

“You're a Harrand?” He blurted out.

“Not quite,” The colour was returning to her cheeks, “My mum was, before she got married,”

“You’re Miss Jane’s daughter?” She nodded, “It’s nice to properly meet you then. I thought you’d be… different,”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Owain…”

“McCrawley,” She held out a hand, and he shook it. Something was different – though he couldn’t think what, until Ruth noticed it herself. She relaxed immediately.

“The bombs have stopped,”