Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Now Beta-ed for your enjoyment.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, folks. I had to take 10 days off to prep for my GRE. I think it went well, but I'm sure you guys were wondering what hole I fell into. It seems I'm writing whole chapters instead of half chapters from now on, so that's good, right?
Some personal commentary on the content: This story uses the theme of severe weather as a weapon. It feels very strange to be working on this story during and in the wake of Hurricane Katrina- trying to create literary images of devastation by storm and then seeing real ones plastered all over the US news. It's weird because I've been planning and writing this story since June, never thinking that a real circumstance would arise that would hit so close to home for so many people. I think I've reflexively toned down some of the imagery; I hope the timing doesn't offend anyone. Please let me know what you think.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 5- assaulting
A vessel wearing the outward appearance of a fishing trawler pushes closer to the shore of the Lost Ground. Currently 55 kilometers away and closing, the specialized group hidden within urgently prepares for their next tactical move under the scrutinizing eye of their commanding officer.
Outwardly the commander appears unfazed as he sits wordlessly, waiting for his team to complete their preparations. However, the blank set of his jaw belies the growing impatience churning within him. As far as he is concerned they are behind schedule, wasting the significant advantage afforded them by the successful launch of the first phase. Unfortunately, the logistics for carrying out phase 2 require closer placement to the intended target in order to equal the magnitude of power generated for the previous.
However, as he watches the individuals around him work deftly through the complicated steps of the coordinated operation, his annoyance slowly dissipates. His plan of action is being executed like a well-choreographed ballet: hands are precise, fingers work deftly, minds are sharp, steps are confident. Not a single effort or movement in the scope of his sight appears hesitant or wasteful. Such a sight pleases him.
The one person in which he was never loath to put all of his faith was himself; he had hand-selected every single member of his faction for their specific talents and he had not allowed them to make any mistakes. In fact, he had afforded his elite faction so much cover for their operations that he had nicknamed them the 'faceless,' for no one looking at the individual members could possibly surmise the depths of their subterfuge.
Only he had seen their raw potential, confirmed after weeks or even months of careful surveillance and study of each before recruitment. For his intense patience he was richly rewarded. There is no chink in the armor, no weak link in the assemblage. His flawless direction and organization of their unique individual talents makes his faction a force with which to be reckoned. They have already performed seemingly impossible feats at his behest; indeed, results from the first phase had already exceeded his expectations. He knows they will not fail to deliver what he asks once again. This gratifies him.
He is roused from his thoughts by an ensign, who nods for permission to report. "Go ahead."
"Sir, preparations for the next phase are nearly complete. We will be ready for your countdown once we reach the target range, in another 20 kilometers. Phase 2 will be launched on your signal."
"Very good. Notify me the moment we are in range."
"Ay, sir."
As the ensign retreats the commander allows himself a knowing nod of the head. In a few short moments, all of his obstacles will cease to exist and he can finally claim the Lost Ground as his own.
--------------
The now darkened AIMED office glows with the low flicker of scattered candles that had been found in the back of the old restaurant. The power had gone out shortly after Mimori started straightening things, blanketing the heavily shadowed and disheveled space in a somber darkness. A tiny flame writhes seductively around its candle wick from the corner of her desk, exaggerating the planes and shadows of her face; its ceaseless dance mimics the turbulence of the tempest outside. Mimori cradles a flashlight in the crook of her neck attempting to focus its beam on her clutch of mismatched papers. Several hours have already passed, but with the darkness she has barely managed to dent the disarray cluttering the room.
Mr. Hideki, the only other person present, reemerges from the old kitchen area carrying another flashlight and shaking his spectacled head. He sighs audibly before sharing his findings, "The basement has begun to flood. There's already two and a half feet of water down there and likely rising. It's probably backed up from the old sewer system. If this weather keeps up I wouldn't be surprised if every basement in the city doesn't fill with runoff soon."
Mimori frowns behind her flashlight's glare, "Well, there go the clothing donations from Mishi's store… and the leaflets for next month's caucus!" She curses under her breath before pausing to think. "Should we worry about the water getting up here?" Eyes dart around, assessing the height of every piece of office furniture.
"It would take several more hours of serious rain for that to happen, but it's a possibility. We should at least make sure nothing important is left on the floors," Hideki offers.
Mimori allows herself an exasperated sigh before reprioritizing her attack for the surrounding mess. "Let's make sure that all communications from our foreign benefactors are boxed and shelved nice and high in the bookcases, just in case. After the rain lets up, I'll put one of the computers in Tachibana's car."
Now it is Hideki's turn to frown. "Um, that might be a problem…"
"Why? What do you mean?"
"Have you looked out the window lately? The streets are flooding, too. You'll have to wade through a few inches of water just to reach your car."
"Wha…?" her bottom lip droops with disappointment as she drops the forgotten papers on the desk to glide over to the window. "Oh, gracious!"
Just as he reports, a rippling sheet of water blankets the streets, obscuring curbs, steps and sidewalks. Checking the entrance, Mimori is dismayed to find the water already up to the first of the three steps that rise to the restaurant's front door.
"Oh no! If we were street-level we'd be standing in water right now! This is unbelievable- what's going on!"
"I have no idea. This storm came from nowhere, and it's not acting like any storm I've ever seen. It looks like we won't be going anywhere for a while."
Mimori sighs resignedly and leans against a large picture window at the front of the restaurant. On the other side of the glass, typhoon gales blow refuse across her field of vision at alarmingly accelerated speeds. She eyes the street signs as the wind whips against their flat surfaces, shaking and bending them against the protest of their steel poles. Water churns violently in the street, pulling a half-submerged plastic bag through the current. She watches it race down the street and catch on a telephone pole. Tiny rapids beat against it mercilessly before finally pushing it past the pole and carrying it out of sight.
Mimori sympathizes. That bag is like her heart, and Ryuho has unknowingly carried it away to god-knows-wherever he's disappeared. He's gone and he means not to return. She had seen the resolution in the set of his body, in his eyes, as he turned and walked away from her just this morning. Walked away, leaving her alone and broken.
She rests her forehead and nose gently against the chill of the window in silent contemplation. She presses her finger against the glass to trace one of the vertical rivers pouring down opposite it. The cool surface fogs an outline around the warmth of her fingertip. She trails the liquid line down, pulling the opacity with it, until her hand falls against her thigh. She surrenders to her growing sadness and fatigue and closes her eyes, mink lashes barely brushing against the glass before settling on the soft skin of her cheeks.
With the tip of her tongue, she tentatively explores the corner of her lip; the tingle of its mending split carries her thoughts back to this morning once again. Against her closed eyes, the chill of the window morphs into the burning warmth of Ryuho's skin. She wraps her arms around her body protectively, mimicking his strong embrace. She tightens her hold in despair, knowing that what happened this morning will never happen again. A single hot tear escapes the web of her lashes and she lets it tumble down her cheek unimpeded. Deliberately casting aside the promises she has made to herself, Mimori finally surrenders to her memories.
While not a genius himself, Mr. Hideki is fairly certain that the person leaning against the darkened window has undergone an introspective change. He debates for several moments between offering comfort or a retreat before finally settling on the latter. He doubts he would have any helpful insight into the troubles of a teenage girl, particularly one who is tabloid-famous with a rocket scientist's IQ. It is not his place to pry into her personal affairs, particularly when such affairs seem to conjure so much sadness. He rises as noiselessly as possible and then retreats to the back room to offer the girl in the window some privacy.
--------
Elian stands in the middle of the floor, motionless, and encased in the luminescent bubble of his Alter power. Eyes fixed ahead, the smooth angles of his face reflect back buoyant flickering pixels like a movie screen, lending a mystical glow to his young features. His fingers tap rapid and spider-like across his Alter-erected keyboard, beckoning data as if conjuring music from piano keys. Intense concentration tightens his lips and furrows his brows, as he searches for answers amidst seemingly indiscernible lights.
Cougar and Urizane wait passively at the edges of the room, trying to look anywhere but at the boy so as not to distract him with their expectant glares. Curiosity betrays attempted nonchalance. Even as accomplished Alter users themselves, both men are nevertheless impressed by the youth's control and strength when wielding his ability. The only sounds apart from those emanating from the use of Elian's gift come from the raging storm outside, which is fast approaching typhoon intensity around them.
After many patient minutes the tapping slowly ceases and the boy's protective encasement evaporates, leaving him suddenly small and singular in the room's center. The two older men stir in their perches but neither one approach the boy, allowing him time to mentally translate and then relay to them all that he has seen. After a thoughtful pause, Elian offers his findings.
"It's very strange. The typhoon itself is natural- I was able to track it back to it's origin over the ocean, just like our typical tropical storms. However, there's an unusual disturbance over the island- something akin to Alter power. It's very strong- it is somehow greatly enhancing the magnitude of this typhoon, making it far more destructive and deadly."
Cougar quirks an eyebrow at the confirmation of his hunch. However, he is unable to pinpoint any cause for such a strange finding. "That's very odd. Is there anything else?"
"Yeah, actually. I can sense another similar force- but it differs somehow. Some great energy is building, but has not yet been unleashed. I don't know what it will lead to. In short, things are probably going to get even worse."
"Where's it coming from?"
"The ocean. That way," he points southeast, roughly the direction from which the storm came.
"Shit, that doesn't make any kinda sense! What the hell does it all mean?" whines Urizane.
"Well, don't shoot the messenger. I have no idea what's going on," Elian mutters, brows furrowing at his friend's lack of appreciation for the information he had been able to obtain.
Cougar reassures the youth, "No, you did a great job, Elian. I don't think any of us knows what it means, but I could hazard a couple of guesses."
Elian is left wondering at the source of Cougar's miraculous hunches once again, but dares not ask him as the master of Radical Good Speed disappears behind a figurative cloak of deep concentration.
Cougar tries to fit together the few random pieces of information he has so far. First, some force is manipulating the intensity of the storm, directly threatening the Lost Ground under the guise of a natural phenomenon. Another similar force is building to soon reveal itself as another type of threat. Both forces echo of Alter power, but their true nature is unknown. The source of this unusual disturbance is somewhere out in the ocean. And finally the two strongest Alter users of the Lost Ground are still recovering from serious self-inflicted injuries. All in all, the equation appears to be adding up against their favor.
The speedster finally offers a suggestion, "We should get this information to Ryuho and Kazuma, and perhaps Tachibana and Mimori. Something is targeting the Lost Ground and we need to find out if there's anything we can do about it."
Urizane adds, "Not to shoot ya down, but Ryuho and Kazuma are still trashed from last week's fight. And what the hell is Mimori gonna do?"
Cougar's reply carries more irritation than he intends, "I don't know, but I'd rather try to figure this out with more than just the three of us. Unless you want to handle this yourself, watermelon boy." He immediately wishes he could take back his words because they hint at his other unspoken concerns. In the midst of an apparent insidious plot against the Lost Ground, Cougar is still unable to completely push out his worries over Mimori.
Cougar had known what had happened after Ryuho left; though the others couldn't see it, it had been written all over Mimori's face. The flush of her cheeks, the tremble of her chin and hands, her avoidance of eye contact with anyone, the look of embarrassment mixed with bewilderment- all these clues told him what happened on that cliff without anyone having to say a word. Before she left to go to the market Cougar had tried to talk with her, had even offered to go with her, but Mimori was eerily silent and aloof. In the end he gave her the time to herself he figured she needed, but his worry over her never entirely abated. He finds he is eager to return to check on her, even amidst the chaos of the new information Elian has just shared with them.
Elian interrupts his thoughts with an observation out the window, "Well, we can't take the truck- the water outside is halfway up the tires. We'll never make it over all the dips and bridges between here and Tachibana's place."
Urizane comes up with an alternative, "Lets get some supplies together and then I can try to teleport the three of us over there. I'm a bit rusty, but it should be no prob."
Everyone nods in agreement and Elian and Urizane leave to plunder the other rooms of their house.
------
Cammy sits silently up in the barn's hay loft huddled amongst the seven or so other farm workers, her arms protectively draped around the smaller girl in her lap. It's not that Kanami needs comforting; truth be told, it is probably more of a calming gesture for Cammy, but the recipient doesn't seem to mind. The hay on which she sits is damp, but at least they are able to avoid the rising water covering the barn floor.
The barn doors are heavy and keep out the winds and pounding rains but do little to halt the flood of runoff into the barn from the surrounding valley. Cammy can't decide which is louder- the thundering and banging of the storm against the barn or the frantic noises and splashes issuing from the animals below them.
Under the loft, rows of cows and some stray horses wade in several inches of water that have pushed under the blocked entrance. The cows moo and bang into one another in protest over the close confines. Horses whinny and buck in displeasure as bleating sheep wind between their long legs. Chickens squawk as they jockey for any dry spot they can find, be it on a stall door, a cow's back, or a horse's feeding trough.
Cammy absentmindedly weaves her fingers in and out of the tail of Kanami's long silky ponytail as she ponders their current situation. The storm seemed to come from nowhere and had not been preceded by any real warning. One minute she had been diligently milking a cow and the next Kanami had been shoved into her arms and both were hustled up into the top of the barn.
Farmhands had herded as many of the animals inside as they could before closing the heavy doors against the raging storm. Some of the cows had stubbornly refused to be led into the barn and were likely wading around in the flooded valley now. God knows what happened to the rest of the chickens- they had probably drowned. She just hopes that their house will still be in one piece when they are finally able to return.
"Cammy, are you worried about our friends at home?" Kanami must have sensed Cammy's whirling thoughts.
"Yes. I'm hoping that they are in better shape than we are. I want everyone to be safe and sound, and I don't want them to worry about us, either."
With an eerie degree of certainty in her voice, Kanami predicts, "Kazuma will come and get us. He doesn't like storms, but he won't want me to be so far away in such bad weather. He'll probably bring Tachibana with him and then we can go home."
Cammy hopes Kanami is wrong. She is sure that no one belongs outside in that torrent, particularly not her handsome, purple-crowned boyfriend- he's entirely too practical for that. However, the short week of having Kazuma stay with them had been more than enough of an introduction to his impetuosity and lack of foresight. He wouldn't drag Tachibana out into this mess on some foolish notion of chivalry, would he?
Cammy's stomach gives an involuntary lurch at the thought and she squeezes her eyes shut to banish the worry from her mind. Her boyfriend has the good sense to wait out the typhoon, and if not, Mimori will ensure that everyone stays put. Mimori is always the voice of reason.
Satisfied with her logical conclusion, Cammy once again allows the din of the barn and the storm outside to fill her senses, determined to remain patient. Still, at the back of her mind, she wonders- How long can this go on?
------
The only warning to the shift in the wind's direction is the increased pressure on the glass as the window warps inward. Mimori opens her eyes just in time to see the splintered end of a long tree limb hurling towards the restaurant.
She reflexively spins around as it crashes through the window mere inches from where she had stood. The harsh pitch of shattering glass echoes around her. She unwittingly slams hard into a bookcase, and behind closed eyes she can hear the denting of metal and the swish of collapsing papers as the branch slams into her desk.
She reels from the jarring impact with the bookcase, throwing her arms out reflexively, but finds nothing to grasp as the world pitches to an ungodly angle. Before she can register that she is falling, the glass-strewn floor reaches up to plant a stinging kiss on the side of her head.
Her vision swims and darkens at the edges, and unconsciousness gropes for her. She is dimly aware that the bookcase with which she just collided is falling down on her and she manages to throw her arms up. However, she is seized by blackness before she ever feels the jolting impact on her body.
--------
The fishing trawler now bobs a mere 25 kilometers offshore. The Commander can feel the boat halting beneath his booted feet. It won't be long now.
The Mainland was so foolish to worry over the legendary Alter users. They were afraid of their evolved power, afraid that the Alter would grow out of control. They had given up too easily after Kyoji Mujo had failed. Mujo had been his brainchild and they were loath to trust him again after a single backstep. However, Mujo had only been one lone aspect of his grand plan for the Lost Ground. You didn't scrap an entire battleship because one of the guns misfired. However, the Mainland military and executives had turned tail and run. So foolish.
He knew exactly how to deal with both the Mainland officers and the legendary Alter users. He had convinced the military that the two legendary Alter users were rogue fighters who were planning to invade the Mainland. Preliminary measures were therefore necessary to avoid falling into their opponents' hands.
After that it was easy to convince the military to requisition vessels and aircraft to periodically 'intercept' the two youths for the purposes of 'thwarting' their devious plots to infiltrate the Mainland. A few military ships and planes sacrificed every couple of weeks or so was enough to settle both the Mainland and the legendary Alter users into a false sense of security while he worked unimpeded on his major plans. Convincing the military had been particularly easy after they learned that the youths were loath to kill pilots and captains, instead delighting in simply blowing up the vessels and making great messes over the ocean separating the two land masses. Those foolish boys. It was crucial to his plan that they remain otherwise occupied until there was nothing they could do to stop him.
Everything had been going according to plan with a single exception. AIMED. They had been a snag in his carefully woven plans ever since they had poked their heads out of the territory of the Lost Ground. A spunky little group that had barely been a blip on the political radar; now a rapidly snowballing attention-grabbing plight. What was worse, both Mainland and foreign politicians and citizens had jumped onto the bandwagon of 'the little organization that could.'
It was getting so he couldn't attend a single government or political meeting without someone bringing up AIMED and their 'plight' for the Lost Ground. The most infuriating aspect was that they were so small of a group that even his extensive intelligence was unable to obtain specifics regarding their members or location. It was unnerving.
But not for long. One fact he had gleaned was that they were based within the City, and once phases 1 and 2 were carried out the City would be unsalvageable and AIMED would cease to be a threat. Two birds with one stone.
"Sir, phase 2 is ready on your mark. After deployment the target will be fully engaged in nine minutes, twenty-eight seconds."
A slight twitch of the lip is the only outward manifestation of his pleasure. "Engage."
"Ay, sir."
In mere moments, his last obstacle would cease to exist.
---------
Ryuho arrives at Tachibana's house- barely. He touches down sluggishly in a puddle- much less gracefully than he intends- and allows the armor to evaporate from around him. Even free of the weight, he still doubles over, panting like a greyhound fresh off the racetrack. He is entirely drained of energy from his brief flight, indicating that he indeed still has some healing to do. Seems Mimori knew what she was talking about. He makes a mental note to heed her medical advice more closely in the future.
The storm whips around him, tearing at his newly exposed clothes and once again reminds him to seek the shelter of Tachibana's house. He scans the surrounding land, noting the intensity of the squall. Water pours down the cliff face but washes down past the house to flood the roads below. Trees toss and lash their branches about their heads, surrendering many of their divested leaves to the swirling winds. Ahead he can make out the house, which is totally blacked out by the storm.
He pushes his way through the front door and finds Tachibana and Kazuma huddled over the radio listening intently for any breaking news. Both men look up in mild surprise at his entrance, but neither offers any greeting, being too intently occupied by the little box in front of them. Ryuho scans the room as he had the outside and notes the absence of any other people in the space.
Where is Mimori? "Where is everyone?" he inquires instead.
Tachibana is the first to speak, "Cammy and Kanami are still at the dairy farm, as far as we know. Cougar went to see Urizane and Elian. We're trying to get news of the storm." He then stops, purposefully denying Ryuho the answer he really seeks.
Kazuma, ignorant of the unspoken grapple between the two, finishes where Tachibana left off, "And Mimori went to the market. She probably got stuck there, but we assume she took shelter with the locals."
"What! Alone!" Ryuho can barely contain his anger at the thought of Mimori in the wasteland, by herself, in the middle of the worst typhoon he's ever seen.
Kazuma rolls his eyes, "Relax, jerk wad, she took the car! Shit, it's not like we let her walk or anything! She's a big girl; she can take care of herself. I'm more worried about the girls at the farm. In fact, I'm gonna go get Kanami. Tach, I suggest you come with me and fetch your girlfriend before she floats away in all this mess."
"But why the hell did you let her go out in the first place?" Ryuho struggles to grasp the supposed logic in Kazuma's explanation.
Tachibana defends himself with some accusations of his own, "We can't stop a grown woman from going where she wants to. And she left way before the storm started, actually shortly after you disappeared. Speaking of which, she looked awfully shaken after you left- what the hell happened between you two anyway?"
Ignoring the obvious allegation, Ryuho turns on his heels and heads for the door. "I'm going to the market."
Tachibana strides after him and forcefully grabs his arm to halt him, "I'm guessing you're the last person she wants to see right now!"
Failing to gather the amount of patience necessary to deal with the teen currently latched on to his arm, Ryuho is about to retaliate when Kazuma interrupts with a loud 'shush, dammit!' Both pause mid-confrontation as he dials up the volume on the radio. A pedantic voice doing its best impression of an anchorman blares the latest details-
"-liminary reports indicate that the storm has definitely reached typhoon magnitude. However, our meteorologists are baffled as accounts continue to pour in indicating that the storm is inexplicably hovering over the City, causing major damage to buildings as well as flooding to streets and basements-"
Kazuma interrupts the transmission with an audible sigh. "That's friggin' bizarre- storms don't hover, do they?" He turns a confused glance at the other men for confirmation, failing to notice the sudden blanch of Tachibana's face. "Well, at least there aren't very many people left in the City any more, especially the center, where HOLD and HOLY used to be. 'Cept maybe some squatters and lowlifes."
"Mimori…" barely a whisper, it escapes Tachibana's lips before he can stifle the name.
"Whadja say?" asks Kazuma, not sure of what was just muttered.
Ryuho, however, catches the slip and immediately circles back around on the purple-headed youth. "What about Mimori? What are you hiding, Tachibana?"
A nauseous hue colors the teen's pained features and he volleys his eyes between Kazuma and Ryuho before finally finding his voice. "She... Mimori didn't go… to the market… to run errands. She… she took my car… to the City…"
Without a word Ryuho snatches the boy by the collar, jerking him forward and looking for all the world as if he will kill the youth in his grasp. Tachibana, too shocked to be appropriately frightened, instinctively summons his Eternity Eight to defend himself.
The dark, candlelit room is immediately plunged into an eerie green light as the treasure balls circle around their master protectively, awaiting his order. However, Ryuho will not be outdone and is about to spit out Zetsuei's name when he is interrupted by a fluent chain of colorful curses from Kazuma's practiced lips:
"-said fuckin' WAIT! If anybody's gonna break Cammy's 'no using Alters in the house' rule it's gonna be ME, goddammit! Christ!"
Both fighters turn their eyes upon the source of the ranting and slowly break apart. A low 'Shit' sputters from Tachibana as he retracts his Alter.
"Yeah, 'shit'! You took out the coffee table. I'm not takin' the rap for that," complains Kazuma, thoroughly dejected at not being the source of all the havoc for once.
Indeed, Tachibana had 'borrowed' the matter from the coffee table to form his Alter, leaving an obvious absence in the room's décor. Cammy would not be pleased.
Summoning as much patience and civility as he can muster, Ryuho inquires of Tachibana, "Where exactly in the City is Mimori right now?"
Warily, Tachibana answers, "Do you remember that old French restaurant, J'Espere? That's where she is…"
Ryuho furrows his brows, "That can't be right. That place closed down months ago, while we were both still working at HOLY. What would she be doing there?"
"It's AIMED headquarters."
Kazuma wrinkles his nose in faint recognition, "You mean that political organization?"
Tachibana gets defensive, "It's a charity organization..."
Ryuho cuts him off, "A charity organization with some dangerously volatile political ties. What the hell is she doing working for AIM!"
"She's been working there for months now. Hell, she practically founded it. We both did. And it has done some amazing things for this island. You guys were fighting your fight and we were fighting ours. Why are you so pissed?"
"Why am I pissed? Are you insane? The last thing Mimori needs is to be embroiled in the middle of dangerous, fruitless rescue missions!"
"It's not fruitless! She's been amazing! You should see her with our foreign contacts and the diplomats! She's doing something no one else can do!"
"And you're probably going to get her killed for it!"
Kazuma finds he must intervene yet again. "Hold it, you two! She should at least get the chance to explain herself. And as far as immediate danger, she should still be okay, even if she is in the City. The buildings there are sounder, even if they are abandoned."
Ryuho shoots Kazuma a look indicating that his statement is in no way as comforting as he means it to be. Nevertheless, Kazuma ignores him in favor of pushing on with his original plan. "Anyway, I'm still going to the farm to get Kanami. Tach, I think you should come along to get your girl. I mean, I like her and everything, but for me, Kanami comes first."
Ryuho adds, "And I'm going after Mimori. You heard the report- she's stuck in the middle of all this."
Tachibana resumes the bickering where they left off, "I thought we went over this. You are the last person she's going to want to see right now!"
"I don't care-"
Suddenly their words are cut off by a deep, cavernous rumble that shakes the entire house. Kazuma looks up towards the ceiling, assuming thunder, but it does not cease, rather it grows in intensity. The floor shakes, furniture jumps and topples, and windows rattle like chattering teeth.
Over the rising noise Ryuho shouts, "Find a doorway or some kind of cover!"
Kazuma shouts back, "Why!"
"Because this isn't thunder! It's an earthquake!"
---------
A/N: Hahaha, cliffy! What do you think? Responses make me write faster! We've hit 100 reviews! Yea! Thanks to all of my reviewers, especially those who comment on every chapter! Y'all rock!
-Mira