The Night It Rained Fire
He left on the night that it rained fire on the island. The first night in a long time, anyway. He left with the other young men – none of whom would return before I did. Some of whom would never return at all. I watched him go. I felt nothing.
The silence as we heard the telltale screech of Sin echoing through the halls. The alarms wailing a warning we did not need. We were in the garden when these noises came, harvesting the winter crop. The others dropped their tools and ran to save themselves. He dropped his garden pick and ran to save me. His eyes – he had both of them then – were full of something I did not yet understand. Months later, I'd call it desperation. Then, I just knew they were full. He pulled me across the open yard as a shadow began to cloud it. Opened the broom cupboard and pulled me inside it, closing the door quietly behind us. The ground shook and metal screamed and his voice climbed an octave as he pleaded with me to stop screaming. That's how the spawn had found his sister, he said. It had followed the sound. His skin burned mine as he glued his hand over my mouth. As his forehead leaned against mine and he locked eyes with me, silently telling me to be silent. So I listened. The ground shook again, too close, and we breathed.
We listened, our eyes closing and ears straining to hear through the metal wall that would save so many that night. Shrieking metal, shrieking people, shrieking beast. The only sounds to be heard. The only sounds we could hear. He moved his hand and I buried my face in his neck, clinging to him as the ground rippled. Closer this time. The sounds of our breathing joined by the sound of its haunting, rattling breath. He whispered an old prayer to the aeons into my ear. The door shuddered, and so did we. I joined him in prayer, although it wasn't my way. He squeezed me tight, holding me together. We stayed this way for some time. It quieted. Sin moved on. The courtyard area grew silent as the beast moved to the northern side of Home. I moved to open the door, but he shook his head no. The spawn, he whispered.
He blocked the door with a few gardening tools before he sat with his back against it, cradled his head in his hands and remembered the last time he'd hidden from them. I curled into a ball in the far corner, watching as the light from under the door slowly faded away with the sunset. The screams were far away now, like a dream. We sat like that, just listening, for a long time. When the desert cold set in he held out a hand and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me to keep me warm. We froze each time we heard scratching outside the door.
The ground shook again, a deeper shaking, and he whispered something about the cannons. We heard them launch with a high pitched whistle. Felt them explode against Sin's body, and saw the light as it flared, outlining the doorway in a deep, momentary red before fading. It happened five times before Sin retreated. When the spawn began to shriek once more, an answer came in a pained voice. Anima, I told him. Father had released the summoners. We should go to help finish them off, I said – but he held me tightly and shook his head. I didn't understand, he told me. He was right – I wouldn't understand how great his fear was until I also understood his desperation. They'd gotten his sister, he said. And I didn't understand.
Silence finally came, and I could hear voices calling out. People asking for help, people offering help. And still he wouldn't move. Didn't move, in fact, until a knock sounded on our door. I removed the shovel from its place beneath the doorknob and peeked out. A medical officer waiting to treat anyone who needed attention. When I shook my head, he moved on.
We left the closet and walked into the ruined garden. Two of the walls were torn down. There were bodies among the remains of the turnips and iceberg lettuce. Spawn struggling to stand, oozing toxin from their wounds. Pieces of burning shrapnel fell from the clouds, little trails of smoke leading back to the sky. Tiny fires ignited as they hit the ground, fires which were quickly drowned by those who could stand.
The central tower remained undamaged, as did the Summoner's Sanctum. It was there that we were told to gather in order to find our families. He followed me, once we arrived, looking for my brothers and father – he had no one left to find, after all.
I found them at the front of the room, setting up a microphone so that they could be heard over all of the crying and commotion. My father hugged us both when he saw us, glad that we were okay. I told him that Gippal had kept us safe, and his eyes were full, too. Gratitude.
The Crusaders arrived at midnight. The saviors reaching out to help the outcasts. Gippal and I helped them to distribute rations among the displaced families in the Sanctum. He spoke to one of the men for a long time. His eyes were full again. Determination, this time.
The desert skies rained fire that night as pieces of shrapnel slowly came back to earth. One of the captive summoners said it had looked like this in a village just north of Djose two years ago, when Sin first returned. The sounds of the dying filled the walls of the Sanctum. Even so, we were lucky, he said – that village was gone now. Small groups of Crusaders began to leave near dawn to transport those with grave wounds to the hospital in Luca, the only hospital that would still accept Al Bhed patients. Others began to pile the bodies onto hovers to be buried at sea in our tradition. The sight of the bodies struck me dumb, and I stayed out of the way as they worked - numb from the terror that had gripped me since Sin came, numb from the blood and the emptiness of all those bright green eyes.
The last group to leave asked for volunteers to help care for the injured on the passage to Luca… volunteers for the crusade against Sin. They would join the ranks at the main office in the city, they said. It wouldn't be like before, they wouldn't be turned away.
Twenty-five hands went up. Gippal was one of them. To protect his Home, he said. His people, his family… His family was gone, I said, and his eyes were full of disbelief and hurt. Months later I'd know that my family was his family now, but at that moment I was too tired to think. He could save me out there, he insisted. He saved me in here, I replied.
My best friend kissed my forehead before walking into the burning rain. It was the last time I'd see both his eyes, but I didn't know that. I couldn't look at them, not when they were saying goodbye. Stay Home, he said, stay safe. Why wouldn't he listen when I said the same thing in return?
He left the night that it rained fire on the island. He and twenty-four other young men. None of them would return before I did – some of them never would. He turned away, and as I watched him go, I felt so much that I didn't know what to feel.
I watched him go, outlined by fire, and I felt so much that I felt nothing.