In the Eye of the Storm

  ‘Mr Ambrose!’ With new energy, I started shouting, clutching the wet cloth over my face. ‘Mr Ambrose, where are you?’ Driving the camel forward, I raced further into the storm, to where I thought I had last seen a hint of his black tailcoat. ‘Mr Ambrose!’

  No answer.

  Of course not! Why would he deign to say anything, when he is so well practiced at keeping his lips nailed shut? It’s only his life that is in danger, after all! No reason to suddenly become unnecessarily vocal!

  Then I saw it: a bit to my left, hardly visible through the roaring sands around me, a tattered piece of black cloth waved at me, like a black snake wagging the end of its tail. Did snakes have tails? This one did, anyway! One tail of a tailcoat!

  There he was: Mr Ambrose, striding along as if the sandstorm blasting into his face were a mere annoyance. Somehow, he had managed to misplace his camel in the storm, but no matter. His powerful long legs were pumping, carrying him forward, his eyes were narrowed to slits, his top hat was somehow, miraculously, still on his granite head. He looked as if he could go on like this for hours.

  And then he fell.

  ‘Mr Ambrose!’

  Whether he heard my cry I knew not. His knees gave way beneath him, and he slammed his hands into the sand, trying to hold himself at least half upright. His chest was heaving, racked with coughs I couldn’t hear over the cacophony of storm and singing sand.

  ‘Mr Ambrose!’

  This time, he did hear me. Turning his head, he glared at me, as cold as he had ever done. I swear, for just a moment, particles of ice mixed with the particles of sand between us.

  ‘Stay - where - you - are!’

  For just a moment, his voice drowned out the thunder of the wind. The power of the command nearly knocked me backwards off my camel. Then I gritted my teeth, and glared right back at him.

  Stay?

  Ha! Not bloody likely!

  I tried to spur my camel on to move faster. Anger flared in his eyes. He tried to push himself up, to get to his feet. He actually managed to raise himself up a few inches. For a moment, he remained like this, a fallen Titan rebelling against his fate, Prometheus about to be bound - then his strength gave way and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  ‘No! Mr Ambrose!’

  As if in triumph, the sand storm gave a ravenous howl, and a gust of sand blasted between us. His form faded into the whirling mass of 0.0024803-inch pebbles and vanished from sight.

  Trapped

  ‘No!’

  My heart almost stopped. There wasn’t a trace of Mr Ambrose left. None! The sickly, biting mist of stone around me, dark brown by now and getting darker by the minute, had swallowed him up completely.

  Stay calm, Lilly! Think logically! He was just in front of you, right? So, if you keep going straight ahead, you should stumble over him sooner or later.

  How wonderful!

  There was just one problem: Where was straight ahead, exactly? And since we were on the subject of directions, where were left and right? All directions were swallowed by the roaring cataclysm around me. Just as he had been swallowed. Swallowed, chewed, and digested.

  No! No, please not that!

  Well… if he was chewed and digested, he had to be excreted again sooner or later, right? Maybe even in one piece?

  And maybe you are taking this whole bloody metaphor a little too far, Lilly Linton! Get your butt moving!

  So I got it. My butt moving, I mean. Or rather the camel’s. It bleated in protest as I urged it to go faster, but we sped up, and a moment later I saw something in the sand right in front of me that made my heart jump: footprints! They were barely discernible, and disappearing as I looked, but they were there!

  ‘Faster! Faster, Ambrose!’

  Another few steps and bleats of protest later, and the sand parted, revealing a prone, black-clad figure, already half-buried in the sand.

  ‘Mr Ambrose!’ Slipping from the camel’s back, I fell to my knees beside him. ‘Mr Ambrose, Sir! Are you alive?’

  ‘Go away,’ he growled.

  Yes. Definitely alive.

  ‘Why on earth should I?’ I demanded.

  ‘It’s not safe wandering around in this kind of tempest!’

  ‘Oh, you’ve only just figured that out, have you?’

  ‘I told you to stay where you were!’

  ‘And I didn’t listen. Now come, get over here.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? Go!’ He tried to push himself up, to push me away, then sank back down with a half-groan, half-cough. ‘Go, I said! My lungs are being shredded! You have a camel; maybe you can make it out of here alive. Leave me to die in piece!’

  ‘Not a chance in hell! If you’re going to die, I’m going to make sure your last minutes on this earth are as miserable as possible!’

  ‘How very kind of you!’

  I tried to tug at him, tried to pull him towards the camel, who was visible only as a dark form through the haze several feet away. But, opening his eyes, he stared up at me with those deep, dark, sea-coloured eyes of his and shook his head. ‘No! Leave me! Save yourself!’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘Are you being unusually noble, or do you simply not want a girl to save your stony behind?’

  Silence.

  Well, I guess I had my answer.

  ‘So that’s the way it is, is it? Well, I’ve got news for you, Dick, my dearling,’ I told him, and tugged firmly at his arm again. He slid a few inches in the right direction. ‘I’ve still got a wedding ring on my finger, and so do you, however temporary it may be. Do you know what that means? That means that right now I vow in the presence of God, a camel and a buttload of sand, to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, in happiness as well as in sadness, and even when you behave like a bloody arrogant idiot! I promise to hate you unconditionally, to support you in your aspirations as long as you pay me for it, and to honour and respect you as long as I get a free day off every week. This -’ I gave another tug, and he slid closer to the shelter of the camel ‘is - my - solemn - vow!’[27]

  ‘How moving.’

  ‘You think it’s moving? Then move your behind! We have to get over there, pronto!’ I pointed to the dark outline of the camel, who was peacefully snoozing through the sandstorm a couple of yards away. ‘At least Ambrose will give us some shelter from the storm!’

  ‘You,’ he rasped, staggering to his feet and stumbling over to my mount, ‘are going to change that camel’s name!’

  ‘Oh, I am, am I?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘We’ll just see about that.’

  Both of us slumped to the ground next to the very, very aptly named camel. Ambrose was not paying any more attention to us than to the grains of sand battering his impressive rump. Instead - surprise, surprise - he remained perfectly cool and silent. Leaning over to the very, very, very, very, very aptly named camel’s saddle bag, I pulled out a second headscarf, and poured some of my remaining water over it.

  ‘Here!’ I held it out to Mr Ambrose. ‘Put that over your mouth and nose!’

  ‘That is Arabian women’s clothing! I will most certainly not-’

  Smack! Even over the racket of the storm, the sound of the wet cloth hitting him in the face was satisfyingly audible.

  ‘Leave it on if you do not want to choke to death! If you do, be my guest and remove it.’

  ‘What was that about honouring and respecting me?’ came a muffled voice from beneath the cloth.

  ‘You remember the conditions, don’t you? I haven’t gotten a day off since we started on this accursed trip!’

  Reaching up, he pulled the misused headscarf off his eyes, but still left it over his mouth and nose. Leaning towards me until our faces were only inches apart, he narrowed his eyes a fraction. ‘Well, then I have good news for you.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Oh yes, indeed.’ He swept his arm around, gesturing at the raging tempest around us. ‘I give you the rest of the day off.’
/>
  ‘Thanks so much, Sir! I’m going to the nearest café right away to enjoy a nice cup of tea and a piece of apple pie!’

  ‘You’re welcome! And don’t forget-’

  His voice was cut off by a bellow of storm wind and I felt a blast of sand hit me, almost hurling me towards him. Clutching at the straps of the camel’s saddlebags, I caught myself just in time. Another blast of sand hit me almost immediately. Wide-eyed, I looked up. Something was happening!

  Around us, the roaring had continued all the time without ceasing or abating once. But now… now, something altogether different was starting. All through the storm so far, directions had been swallowed, as had the landscape and any living being. But at least there had still been a sense of light, of existence, somewhere in the chaos.

  Now, though, the dark brown haze around us began to darken further. The gale raged with renewed force, and I bit my lower lip to supress a cry of pain as the sand battered against my thobe, stinging even through the thick material. Wet cloth or no, it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe.

  On the edge of my vision, things were going dark. Dimly, I wondered what was happening. Was I dying? Here, in this lonely desert, my only company a man who was as cold and hard as a block of ice?

  No, that’s not true. You’ve also got the camel!

  Right! I was so lucky.

  Are you sure you’re dying? Because it looks as if things aren’t just going dark at the edges of your vision. They’re going dark everywhere.

  Looking up, I sucked in a startled breath. Or at least I tried to. What I actually sucked in was a startled wagonload of desert dust.

  ‘What in God’s name…!’ My voice was hardly audible in my own ears. The roar of the storm had reached new heights, battering my eardrums with primeval force. ‘What is going on?’

  Above us, the sky, or what passed for the sky in a sunless world of swirling sands, was growing dark. And I don’t mean just dark brown. I mean dark. Dark like a night without stars and with shutters nailed over all the windows. Dark like a cup of Spanish roast coffee. Dark like the colour black before God thought it might be a nice idea to let there be light.

  ‘Holy Moses and macaroons!’

  From beside me, I heard Mr Ambrose make an indistinct noise. For once, he was not complaining about my language.

  ‘What is happening?’

  How he managed to hear me over the din, I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t catch a single one of my own words. The storm was raging like ten thousand mad dragons.

  ‘The sun is dying,’ he rasped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look.’ Raising his hand, he stretched it out towards where the darkness was thickest. After only a few moments, his fingers were swallowed by the storm. Despite the heat, a cold shiver ran down by back.

  ‘This… this can’t happen! A storm can’t block out the sun like that! It would have to be…’

  ‘Several miles high.’

  ‘No! No, that can’t happen! It simply can’t!’ Panic rising inside me, I looked around. Things were quickly disappearing. Ambrose’s head was already being eaten up by shadows. A moment more, and we would have a headless camel. And then… What then? ‘No! This can’t happen!’

  ‘Apparently, it can.’

  With horror, I watched the last vestiges of light drain away. I watched as my ability to watch was stolen. The roar of the storm reached new heights, ringing like the laughter of the devil himself, spitting hot sand and darkness in our faces. The wind tore at us with malicious force, tugging so hard it threatened to rip me off the ground and away into the blackness.

  ‘Bloody hell! No!’

  Reaching out my hand, I tried to grasp something, anything, to hold onto, but my hand was swallowed by a dark maelstrom of sand. The black nothingness closed in around me, swallowing me, smothering me. Coughing, gasping for air, I lunged again. This time my left hand managed to grab something.

  ‘Ouch!’

  Oops. That something apparently was alive.

  A hand snapped around my arm, pulling me closer against something large and hot. I couldn’t see what it was; the darkness was absolute now - but from the coarse, fury texture I assumed it was Ambrose and not Mr Ambrose. At least I very much hoped so.

  The thing I still had hold of with my left hand, though… that felt like Mr Ambrose. It felt familiar, like something I had grabbed hold of before.

  ‘I would advise you,’ came a cool voice out of the darkness, ‘to let go of my ear immediately.’

  ‘Ah.’ So that’s what it was. ‘Sorry.’

  I let go, and he pulled me forward another dozen inches or so. Now I was pressed up right against the camel’s fury side. Unfortunately, though, the fur wasn’t long enough for my fingers to find any hold in. And Mr Ambrose had released my arm by now. I lay there, shivering in spite of the terrible heat, a terrible feeling coming over me in the darkness.

  Loneliness.

  Not loneliness like you feel it on cold winter evenings, when your little sister is visiting with friends, and none of the other people in the house have anything meaningful to say to you. Not the loneliness of wanting things other people didn’t understand. No, this was worse. It was loneliness as if there were no other people at all, only darkness, and the heat of hell, and death.

  The storm gave another bark of cruel, roaring laughter and buffeted me with sand out of the blackness. Again, it tugged at me ferociously, and I tried to bury my fingers in the sand in a useless effort to keep myself on the ground that seemed the only real thing in the world. From somewhere, I heard a low whimper.

  That’s you! It’s coming from your own throat! Pull yourself together, Lilly!

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  That voice… It sounded as if it were shouting. And yet, over the overwhelming racket of the storm in the background, it only amounted to a whisper. Whose voice was it? Surely not that of Mr Ambrose! He’d never waste his breath on a question like that.

  ‘I… I’m alone.’ I was shouting, too. But my voice, just like the other one, was barely audible.

  ‘No, you’re not. The camel is here.’

  It was Mr Ambrose. Only he could think of saying something like that at a time like this.

  ‘The camel hates my guts!’

  ‘Intelligent animal.’

  ‘You… you’re doing this on purpose!’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Making me angry!’ I growled into the darkness. ‘So I won’t be afraid.’

  ‘Is it working?’

  ‘Yes, blast you!’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘That’s all you’ve got to say? You are a bloody bank-vault-like, close-mouthed bastard!’

  ‘I see.’ There was a momentary pause. ‘Or rather, I don’t see. Anything, in fact.’

  ‘Ha, ha! That’s so funny!’

  Silence fell between us. Or, at least, the absence of words. The storm raged on, gnawing at my shrinking courage, slowly suffocating me. Instinctively, my hand reached out, searching for something, someone to hold on to.

  ‘Mr Ambrose?’

  ‘Yes?’

  I hesitated. Snarky comments was one thing, anger to drive the fear away was fine, but this, what I was thinking now… this was dangerous.

  I cleared my throat. Not that anyone heard over the racket. ‘I… feel alone.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I don’t want to be alone right now.’

  Silence. He didn’t say a single word. I didn’t even have the help of seeing his face to read his expression. But then, with Mr Ambrose, what was there to read? Just this once, I simply had to take a chance. Cautiously, I reached out, and felt something smooth. Not skin. The fabric of his tailcoat, maybe. A sleeve?

  He gave a slight twitch under my sudden touch. Not letting that deter me, I moved my hand up his arm, until my fingers came to rest on his hand. Carefully, I brushed away a few grains of sand and stroked the soft skin underneath.

  The silence emanating from Mr Ambr
ose became silenter than silent. It seemed to last forever. When he finally spoke, his voice was somewhat hoarse - probably from all the sand. ‘I thought that sort of thing between us was reserved for the dark of the night.’

  I tried to wet my lips. But there was no moisture left in my mouth. ‘It looks pretty dark to me.’

  Yet another pause. Then… ‘Yes. You’re right, it does.’

  A moment later, two strong arms came around me, pulling me closer.

  *~*~**~*~*

  Dark is a strange thing. In the dark things happen that you could never have imagined.

  ‘What’s that?’ a voice asked. Or shouted. Or whispered. It was difficult to tell in this world of deafening, roaring silence. The voice sounded a little like my own.

  ‘That’s me. My neck.’ Another voice out of the dark. Another shout. Another whisper. His.

  My hands clenched tightly around his neck, pulling him close.

  ‘No, I mean that smell. Has the camel had something bad for breakfast?’ Although the odour wasn’t actually that bad. It didn’t smell of camel at all. A bit harsh, true, but also… interesting.

  ‘I don’t think so. That smell might come from the fact that you have your nose buried in my armpit.’

  ‘Oh.’

  A pause. The storm roared on.

  ‘Um… It’s a nice armpit.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Feels good.’ The voice in the dark that sounded like mine hesitated. Then, lower, so low I almost couldn’t hear it myself, it said: ‘All of you does.’

  Silence. But only for a moment. Then his voice came out of the black nothing.

  ‘So do you.’

  Suddenly, the unseen force of the black wind around us slammed a fist of sand into me. The voice that sounded like mine cried out, and strong arms tightened around me. I sagged back, breathing hot air and dust.

  ‘Oh God… I… I’m scared!’

  ‘So am I.’

  Mr Ambrose? Scared? That couldn’t be! Not to mention sweet little me! I was never scared, out of principle!