Read by Lois Tucker
I can’t remember when the Cloud appeared. It’s like it’s always been here, on the edge of Elm Woods. A silent force watching over our village.
I try to trace its origin back to a moment in time, but there’s only a blur. When I think about the Woods, my childhood memories are clear: Brownie expeditions, playing hopscotch made from sticks, making daisy chains, and summer afternoons playing hide and seek with Ruairidh. But while I can’t specifically remember the Cloud being there at those times, neither can I recall it not being there.
Once upon a time, the Cloud existed.
I’m walking to school when I hear the rumble of engines. I run towards the noise and find a procession of vehicles, each marked with government logos. It feels like an invading army as it trails past our village shop and playpark and stops on the high street. Most of the community have gathered in small groups to watch, children hiding behind parents, adults doing their best not to look nervous. Slowly, the government people get out of the vehicles. Some of them are armed.
Everything moves so fast as they gather us in the Community Centre. I find Mum and Dad and they try to reassure me with weak smiles.
The invaders say they’re here under a national emergency protocol and that we shouldn’t worry. But then they say something that doesn’t make sense – that the Cloud had only just appeared. They ask why no one reported its appearance, but everyone, like me, thinks the Cloud has always been here.
Loch Elm is cordoned off the same night: more soldiers arrive, and checkpoints are set up. They tell us to continue as normal but that we’re under quarantine for our own safety. Something tells me it’s not our safety they’re worried about.
#
At school the next day, a woman with a black-dotted suit interrupts class. My name is called first, alphabetically. I look to Ms Lynn for reassurance, but she just nods me to go.
The woman takes me to an empty classroom where chairs and a desk are set up. Two soldiers stand at the door as she motions me to sit. She clears her throat. ‘What’s your first memory of the Cloud?’
Not even a hello. I search my mind for an answer, but it sends me in circles. ‘I don’t know.’
‘When was the last time you were in Elm Woods?’
My skin starts to prickle, as if I know somehow, I shouldn’t trust her. ‘I walk by the Woods every day.’
‘Was the Cloud there yesterday morning?’
This confuses me. ‘I suppose … yes.’
‘What about the day before?’
Was it? ‘I don’t know.’
It doesn’t look like the answer she was looking for. Is she capable of smiling? ‘Do you remember it being there?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t remember it not being there.’
Her eyebrows arch into a point, then she dismisses me.
I’m brought back to class and they call the next name. I’ve missed Ms Lynn’s explanation of the afternoon’s task, so I just stare at the whiteboard. My mind feels hazy. I almost feel like crying. I’m not sure what the woman expected to find out.
#
It’s become a strange sort of lockdown. Not like in the movies. There’s been no descent into violence and we’re not becoming flesh-eating zombies. They tell us we can’t leave but I don’t think anyone wants to anyway.
Will they still be here when I’m supposed to leave for university at the end of the month? Though now that I think about it, I’m not sure I want to go any more. I want to stay in Loch Elm.
#
The government people eventually move their investigations to the Cloud itself. Things feel like we’re almost back to normal again and we’re getting used to lockdown.
It’s strange why none of us feels a temptation to go near the Cloud. Normally when someone puts a big barrier around something and tells you not to go near it, you want to do the opposite. Like a big red button that says ‘do not press’ the conflicting urge is always there, no matter how innocuous. You imagine yourself leaning forward and pushing it, revelling in the rebellious feeling. Would you be in trouble?
Would the world end?
But with the Cloud, nobody disobeys our orders to stay away. We merely observe it from a distance. From the Edge.
#
The real testing begins with a couple of soldiers, suited and booted in strange looking uniforms. As I’m walking home from school, I watch them, marching towards the Cloud until they’re engulfed within its wisps. Screams ring out like panicked birdsong. I run home and pretend I heard nothing.
#
Later, we find out that the soldiers who returned were taken away immediately for medical treatment. Soon they’ve run out of soldiers to test, and I wonder if they’ll leave now. If they’ll leave us and the Cloud to inhabit the space together. I’d like that.
#
The government doesn’t leave. They call for volunteers from Loch Elm. They think we might be immune to its effects, but no one volunteers to test out the theory. So, they start taking people from their homes.
This is more like the movies.
When the soldiers come to our house, we hide in the shed. They find us. It turns violent. My parents try to resist, but they’re handcuffed and blindfolded. I call for them as I’m bundled into a military vehicle, but my cries are lost to the violent whir of engines.
They bring me to the temporary compound near the Edge. My head hurts. I feel as if I’m somehow disconnected from myself. Like I’m half-asleep, walking towards something inevitable that I can’t control. People in lab coats shine light into my eyes and take blood samples. The needle hurts and blood trickles down from the pinprick to my forearm. A woman mumbles something about me being in my ‘prime’ and how I have nothing to worry about. No one gives me a plaster.
#
I cry when they drag me to the Edge. The Cloud looms, performing its hypnotic dance. I didn’t realise I could make a noise so loud until I’m a foot away from the swirling gas of mystery. I know I’m supposed to stay away from here, but the soldiers keep pushing me forwards. The pain is all-encompassing. My body feels like it’s being ripped apart, muscle by muscle. Like the Cloud and I are negative ends of a magnet. Why are they doing this to me? They’ve given me no protection; I’m simply presented to the scene. Like a cow to slaughter.
The curls of mist engulf me, and a scream sticks in my throat. Everything is dark and light at the same time. If black is the absence of light, then I’m seeing the opposite.
Words fill my head. Anna. Welcome. It’s going to be okay. Relax. It’ll be over soon. Over soon. Relax. What do you see?
#
I’m floating out to sea on a steady wave. It pushes me forwards with a rhythmic swell and fall. Swell and fall.
Then I can see.
The chill of wind bites into my cheeks. Leaves crunch underfoot and Ruairidh’s laughter echoes in the air.
Ruairidh? It can’t be.
‘Can’t catch me!’ I yell. But I have no control over the words.
‘Wait!’ Ruairidh says from somewhere behind.
I trip on a loose branch. I knew it was there. I’ve fallen over it before.
My knee connects with sharp rock. I grunt as I feel the sting of a new wound; or an old one, remade. I lean down and touch my knobbly knee expecting to see the familiar scar; but it’s an open wound. It will need stitches.
Mum will take me to the doctor while Dad searches the Woods for Ruairidh.
Ruairidh approaches me. He turns pale at the sight of the blood. ‘Anna! Are-are you okay?’
‘No,’ I wince. Don’t say the words. Don’t say them. But I can’t stop the sentence that comes next. ‘Ru, I can’t stand up. Go home and get Mum.’ A coldness washes over me.
His lip trembles. ‘But I’m not supposed to be in the Woods on my own.’
This is how I will remember his face.
‘Don’t worry. It’s okay. Just be brave. You remember how to get home? Follow our path through the trees?’
‘I’ll be brave, I promise,’ Ru says and his face flashes away into pitch darkness.
I call his name into the emptiness.
He’ll never come back.
#
Hands grip my ankles and I’m being dragged along spiky grass. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth and a smell of rotten eggs in the air. Voices swirl above me, but I can’t make sense of the words.
I open my eyes and let my breath escape. The face of the black-suited government woman breaks my vision of the cloudless sky.
She shakes my shoulders. ‘Can you speak?’
I’m crying.
‘What did you see? Tell me!’
I shake my head. My body quivers. ‘I can’t-’
‘You saw what was in there? You remember?’ Her nose is almost touching mine.
‘I-yes, I remember!’ I scream hoping it will make her stop. Anything to make her leave me alone.
It works. Her face twists into an expression I guess is triumph. She lets me go and turns to the soldiers at her side. ‘Send the others,’ she orders then strides away, leaving me lying on the floor, sobbing for my lost brother. My vision blurs. I retch and throw up.
I’m brought to a medical tent for observation. I try my best to stay awake, not wanting to give into the darkness. But my eyes drift and I’m subjected to the whole experience again. And again. Each time Ruairidh calls out for me and each time I can’t change my reply. His face disappears into a void: pale and forever innocent.
#
Ruairidh’s disappearance isn’t the only memory that haunts my dreams. There are ones I didn’t know I had, others I want to forget – each one as vivid as the last. Some, at least, are comforting to relive, and in these moments I feel peaceful. But I have no control. My mind is simply replaying them at its own discretion. Chaotic information stored with no order. No filing process, no delete or save option. No control over the imprint the Cloud has left on my brain.
Day and night, they study me. I eventually give in and tell them what I’m seeing. They’re as perplexed as I am.
#
A couple of months pass, and they send me home. What use is a girl who can only recall her own memories? I don’t dream at all any more. I just remember. They have others with more applicable talents, though. My classmates, who followed me into the Cloud shortly after my own forced trip, each came out with new abilities.
Claire can now feel anyone’s emotions by looking into their eyes, downloading their intentions. Euan can hear every conversation that anyone has about him in his mind. Fraser was apparently the most valuable: he could siphon memories away from people. I wish he could take away the painful memories that I’m forced to endure every time I sleep; but they took him away last week and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.
#
I’m back in Loch Elm now. The government people are gone, and so too is the Cloud. When I think of it, I can’t even remember it being there. I wonder if and where it will appear next. If the government is actively seeking it out. If they’ll be prepared for it this time.
(c) Lyndsey Croal, 2020
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