In the Eye of the Storm (Storm and Silence 2)

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?’