Author's Note:
This is an experimental story that has been adapted from an original I started writing a while back. I suddenly found it going in a "fantasy" direction and then became unsure of what to do with it. Then I was inspired to try something different. As the one year anniversaries for Hurricanes Katrina and Rita (or "Katrita" as some of us Louisianians less-than-affectionately call them now) are quickly approaching, and my life has been so greatly affected by them, I thought I'd do a dedication in the style of Final Fantasy VI (my absolute favorite video game from the day my parents bought it for me in 1994 to this day). The name of the guilty party has NOT been changed, but altered slightly to make it fit more smoothly into the story. Hope you enjoy.
FFVI: Aftermath's Nightmare
Chapter 1: The Day After
Locke opened his eyes to find himself in a place that seemed familiar, though the darkness and dizziness kept him from figuring out exactly why. All he knew was that, wherever he was, it was uncannily hot for an early February day. As he lay there, blinking and waiting for his eyes to adjust, he noticed that it wasn't just hot, it was stiflingly and suffocatingly so—the kind of heat you feel on a humid, mid-summer's day in South Figaro.
South Figaro. Dusty rays of light trickled through cracks in the ceiling above him, revealing barrels, wooden crates, and other still unidentifiable piles of junk. The walls surrounding him were made of wooden support beams that joined together in steeple formation above him.
He suddenly knew where he was.
An attic. But not just any attic. The attic of his house in South Figaro. And that partly explained the heat, but it was still unseasonable. Though he guessed that if it were possible that he was in South Figaro, then it was possible that he could also be in a different month.
This last thought became more salient as he realized that he was in a place that probably no longer existed, at least not in the state that he was currently seeing it. Last August, Hurricane Katarita had ransacked the city, leaving very little untouched, including his own neighborhood that was flooded by the breached levee of Grandor canal. Although he had returned to the remains of his house on several occasions, he did not have the heart to even walk through the doorway (there was no door left), much less search for anything salvagable or begin cleaning up. As it was with many of his fellow South Figaroans who lost everything, the thought of dealing with the mess was simply too overwhelming and way too depressing. The bright scarlet 'X' and the green-brown bands that lined the top of his house told him all he needed to know: that starting over here was improbable, if not impossible. So he had avoided it and tried his best to pretend it had never happened.
So why was he here now? And where was Celes?
Deciding to push all thoughts of the strangeness aside (after all, nothing should be capable of surprising him after the whole ordeal with Kefka) Locke stood and was suddenly aware of the distictive sound of lapping water from outside the house. He then noticed the sound of men's voices, yelling in panic. Next he heard a heavy thwok! and felt a slight shiver run though the wooden frame around him. It happened again and again, and finally a beam of light shot through a newly formed hole in the attic wall.
"Locke! Are you in there!" a voice he hadn't heard in a while called out.
"…Yeah!" Puzzled, Locke responded hesitantly, his voice wavering. What the hell is going on?
Finally the hole had opened enough that he could see the face of the man breaking into his house. Sabin, his friend and comrade-in-arms, peered through the opening and looked at Locke in wonder. He seemed to be bobbing up and down.
"Are you ok? Is there anyone else in there with you?"
"I…I think I'm fine. Do you know where Celes is?" Locke glanced around to make sure he was alone.
"She's not in there with you? I'm sorry it took me so long, but I came as soon as I could. It's chaos out here…almost like the world's endin'! Now stay back until I tell you!"
"What's going on?"
There was no answer; Sabin was chopping again. When the hole was big enough for Locke to fit through, he heard a metallic clunk and saw Sabin motion for him to crawl through.
"Why can't I just go downstairs and get out that way?"
Sabin stared at Locke dumbfoudedly. "Umm…because it's…impassable? Now c'mon! Hurry! We can talk later! There's a ton of other people that need savin'!"
Locke slowly approached the hole cautiously, anxiety rising in his throat at what he might find on the other side. However, that anxiety did not prepare him for what he what he saw when he got there. He felt a distant sensation of his jaw dropping and his knees starting to give way as the shock hit him and set in.
Suddenly, everything shut down and Locke was only vaguely aware of hands pulling him through the opening and onto a warm, wooden surface.
-
When Locke opened his eyes for the third time that day, all he could see was an overcast sky and treetops that seemed closer to him than they should be. The floor beneath his back rose and fell as if he were on a boat; and he sat up to discover that, to his dismay, he was. And that what he had seen had to have been a living nightmare.
"Sir Locke! Thou hast awakened, dear friend!" a relieved Cyan exclaimed. "Though I am dreadfully sorry that thou must awaken to a nightmare and not from one."
Locke, Sabin, and Cyan were floating alongside of rooftops, treetops, and other such things that should not be at eye level when in a boat. Their "street" was oily, brackish water that smelled putrid and went on as far as he could see. He could only stare in disbelief. Next to him, Sabin shook his head.
"The Grandor Canal broke this morning. Arment Canal, too. That's what caused the flooding. We were all so worried about the river and the lake, we never even thought of the canals," Sabin snorted. "So much for the Edgar's assurances that their walls could withstand any storm."
And with those words, Locke's fears and suspicions were confirmed, and the nausea began.
He was in the heart of the aftermath of Hurricane Katarita.
"Holy Light of Judgment!" was the only response he could manage. But it was only partly because he was surrounded by 6-7 feet of water. He had talked to many of the survivors, so he had an idea of what it was like. But the key words here were had and was. Katarita happened months ago, and he had evacuated two days before she struck. Edgar had sent out hundreds of carrier pigeons, warning all of South Figaro's citizens that the weather scholars had detected menacing patterns in the air currents. The only people who hadn't left were the fools and the lower-class, and, thanks to the Returners' victory over Kefka, he was neither one of those. So how was he here? Had he actually gone back in time? Or was someone playing a very elaborate and cruel joke on him? And where was Celes? Had she stayed behind, too? An endless number of questions began popping into his head, and when Cyan interrupted them by handing him a bottle of water and some crackers, Locke was thankful for several reasons. Cyan smiled grimly.
"Take care to appreciate those. Food and drink are rare jewels around the city right now. If Katarita didn't take it, the monsters did."
Locke realized he was hungry and thirsty and finished his "meal" while trying to think of what to do next. But Cyan interrupted again.
"So why didst thou not evacuate?"
Locke gave the only response he could think of quickly enough.
"I guess I didn't take it seriously enough."
"And where's Celes?" Sabin raised a curious eyebrow at him.
"I don't know." Locke shook his head.
Not knowing how to explain the fact that he didn't know where his wife was and not wanting his friends to pry too much, Locke quickly asked, "What are you two doing here?"
"Edgar knew that there'd be people to save. Y'know, South Figaro is always being threatened by these things and they're always talking about how it could happen but they always get lucky. Edgar knew everyone would think it'd just be another one of those times."
"Yeah…well, we still did get lucky in a way. You know, with Northtown not getting much damage or flooding."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Locke realized he had slipped up. Sabin narrowed his eyes.
"How did you know that Northtown is ok?"
"Uh…I mean, I figured it would be…since it's higher up…so is that's how you knew I was there? Edgar knew I stayed behind?" Locke quickly changed the subject, and Sabin didn't seem perturbed.
"Yeah, he sent me a carrier and told me that he hadn't gotten word from you that you were gonna evacuate. We thought it was strange, especially that you weren't gonna at least stay over there since it's not far. But he asked me to check up on you so I said ok. Cyan was around at the time and volunteered to help."
"Well…thanks. So where are we going now?"
"The Market District. It didn't flood either so that's where a lot of the relief workers and the rest of the Returners are. They have supplies, and Setzer's been using the Falcon to evacuate people from there. Edgar's trying to get the IAF's old ships to help, but most of them were too heavily damaged in the Catastrophe and haven't been repaired yet."
"What are we gonna do about Celes?"
"You have no idea where she is?" Sabin looked at him quizzically.
"No."
"When was the last time you remember seeing her?"
"Ummm…I'm not sure. I don't remember much of what happened from before I passed out in the attic."
"But she stayed behind with you, right?"
Locke was suddenly tempted to tell his friends the truth: that he shouldn't be here, that none of this was right, that he had in fact left and stayed at the Figaro Castle while the storm ravaged the city, that he had gone back in time…
But the last thing that he needed was for them to think that the ordeal had driven him mad. They would surely put him on the Falcon and send him straight to the castle, where he would undoubtedly be forced to lie in a bed and do nothing while the others did all the rescuing. He couldn't have that, especially when it came to his wife.
"Yes," he firmly lied.
"Perhaps the good lady hast gone to rescue some unfortunate soul herself?" Cyan suggested.
"Hey, that's good thinking!" Sabin exclaimed, and then scratched his chin. "But why would she leave Locke and not tell him where she was going?"
"Who knows…you all know how independent she is." Locke took care to make sure he wasn't griping too much.
"Maybe she was abducted."
"Or perhaps she hast washed away…"
"Guys! You're not helping me feel any better."
"Sorry, Locke." Sabin frowned.
"My humblest apologies, Sir Locke," Cyan began.
"It's ok." Locke cut him off. "Let's just get to the Market District and see if Edgar has any of those airships ready. We won't be able to make much progress in a boat, and I'm beginning to feel sea—ah, floodsick."
To be continued (maybe)…
P.S. Like I said above, this is experimental. If people like it, I'll continue. If not, I'm dumping it and using my time for other things—like school, which drives me crazy so please give me a reason to continue!