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There is no rain in the Burnt City


Through the broken window, from high above, I watched the young, wiry boy emerge from the empty grocery store, kitchen knife in hand as he tried to cut down the vines blocking the exit. The plants were clearly unnatural, but in his faded blue coveralls and sunken eyes, I felt the aura of a child that has fought too many battles with unnatural people already. He would be tough to subdue no doubt, and he might even kill me, but that’s the world that arose after the lights filled the sky and everything went to chaos.

I laughed. A formidable lady like myself had no need to get so worked up over lunch. It was a lovely day outside in the Burnt City, with the asphalt humming with heat and the arid air carrying the scent of so many lost children and so many men and women who’ve degraded much faster than the kiddies. I turned away from the window in the high-rise apartment building I’ve claimed as my own. Checked my gray dress in the mirror, fixed my long hair with all the products I could ever want, sharpened my knives — Oh what a long time it had been since I’d fought another knife-wielder! The clock on the cracked wall read half past one in the afternoon.

Nothing could dampen my mood. Especially after finding my next meal!


Night fell and I strode past the rusting cars, keeping the fallen chunks of concrete and steel company. The warm glow of a campfire was acting as a beacon for the skyscraper on Thrush Avenue; I had guessed it was the boy that escaped from the grocery store around the corner earlier in the day. It was still a bit too soon to eat, my last meal being a few days prior, but in any case, he was drawing too much attention to my own base of operations, and it was no hard task to scale the side of the building. Silent hops from one windowsill to a nearby ledge, pulling myself upwards, higher and higher, spinning in the night’s cool breeze…I felt pure excitement rushing in my veins. Now, I wondered, why would this weak child choose such a high up spot? Lots of people had abilities that could destroy, fly above, climb, meld with a building — Surely this boy must be strong enough to fight them off in such an obvious spot?

I sighed with impatience when I snuck myself onto the roof, my thin, scarred legs catching the glow of the fire as I hid behind some boxes.

“Who’s there?” The boy called out calmly. What excellent hearing! I remained out-of-sight, and decided to use the gift that was given to me: elbow-blades. They were an extension of my arms and protruded from my elbows, shining with a silver, fierce gleam. My elbows grew and grew silently, until they were knives roughly the size of my forearms.

“If you want to sit near the campfire, you’re welcome to.” What arrogance! Now I knew he was new to the city, unaware of the cutthroat nature of city-life. The giving of a proper combat lesson was in order.

I leaped above the pile of boxes, ready to see his shocked, puny face.

I was greeted with determination in his eyes instead, his knife in hand. The campfire stood between his lanky body and my taller frame, and beyond him I saw…A plastic inflatable raft? I laughed. What would he do with that? If his power were flying through the air, then I just needed to cut him down before he flew away. He tried to make a motion, a sigil perhaps, with his bony hands. As if I would sit and wait patiently for him to finish.

My skin covered itself with a coating like well-fitting silver nylon, and I dashed through the fire, my blade pointed at his heart.

He sidestepped to the left before I could impale him. He held his free hand towards the sky and rain began to fall, thunder sounding throughout the streets that hadn’t seen a single drop of rain in the last few years. Embarrassingly, I stopped — What was this feeling on my face? The rain slid off of my coated skin but soaked my dress. I felt…cold?

I heard the rough sliding of plastic on concrete…But there was no way —

The boy had jumped off the roof, raft and all. I rushed to the side of the building and stared down. The streets were flooded completely, lamp posts and stop signs drowned in several feet of water. Far from the building now, the little yellow raft bounced up and down on the waves, the boy moving his hands, controlling the rainfall and the flow of the water.

I jumped down, rolling in the air and diving swiftly into the water. Before I was pulled by the current, I grabbed hold of one of the lamp posts and balanced myself on top of it, barely out of reach of the raging waters. I was determined to catch him! Thankfully the tall stop signs and poles regularly placed within the city were still holding up, and I hopped from lamp post to lamp post in pursuit, realizing how silly I must have looked, like a grade-schooler hopping in the rain.

So this was why he felt so secure on the rooftop. My head lifted itself almost instinctively at the white streak of lightning in the sky. It was beautiful, the clouds nearby diminishing, moving to follow the rain dancer in his escape. I felt the hot sunshine pierce the clouds and heard the water rush and recede, dispersing throughout the grid-like layout of the Burnt City. The screams of shock and joy as people realized that there was water damage to be fixed and freshwater to be had.

The ground was no longer a river. Leaning on one leg on the moist road, potholes turned into puddles and ruins turned into oases in the desert, I lost my frustration. There was never any moisture — Why should I waste this rare event chasing a boy? I stooped down to see my reflection, and all I saw was the content, inviting eyes of a young woman. Giddy with bloodlust, and confident in her beauty. My mind was elsewhere, drowned in memories of where I used to live, the rainy marshes and the mosquitos, the umbrellas and the raincoats, the flash flood warnings online, the warnings that came all too in true in large numbers when the technological mistake of the century spewed the strangest energy into the sky…

Hearing footsteps, I snapped my head to the side. A group of children dragging one of their own. They saw me, panicking, dropping their bulky companion and running away.

Walking over to the body, I could tell it was another young boy, on the brink of death. Drowned and battered, it seemed. Oh well, I thought. I might as well pick this up now to relax the next week or so. I pulled the carcass into my arms and carried it to the sky-rise building I called home. One last glance at the sky. Colors in the sky! A rainbow, here, of all places, among gray concrete and dirty glass. And to think everyone says there is no rain in the Burnt City.


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