Nomad

Celeste came to support Jess, and they slowly made their way through the downpour to the piazza. Water streamed into Jess’s eyes, and she strained to remain stable on the slick cobblestones. All the shops were shuttered; all the restaurants closed. Not another soul around. They walked across the square to the other side, past the fountain, and continued two more blocks to Via Rinascimento where they stood in the sheeting rain and waited. No taxis. No police. A car appeared and Celeste almost threw herself in front of it, but it honked and swerved, then sped off in a spray of water.

 

The rain hammered down. Leaning against a stone wall, Jess shivered violently. She couldn’t stop her teeth chattering now. Her leg ached. A cold fire burned in her thigh. “Let…let’s try the phone box,” she stuttered. They’d been out in the rain for maybe two hours already, and Jess felt her core temperature dropping, her fingers going numb.

 

Celeste stood at the edge of the road, her hands in tight fists, her arms shaking. Water poured down her face. “Okay, let’s try it.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Jess glanced to her left. Someone stood under an umbrella, huge raindrops exploding like staccato gunfire off it.

 

“You need help, yes?”

 

The person stepped next to Jess. It was a young woman, slender, shorter than Jess. Smooth skin with freckled cheeks, her eyes so blue they seemed to pierce the darkness.

 

“I have somewhere warm,” the woman said. “I am Massarra, come. Come with me.”

 

“Yes…yes,” Celeste stammered, coming to hold Jess. “Please.”

 

“This way.” Massarra turned and disappeared into the rain.

 

Jess and Celeste followed. Jess hobbled and leaned onto her mother. “Do you think this is a good idea?” she whispered to her mother.

 

“We don’t have much choice. We need to get out of this, get warm somehow. Maybe I can go and try the phone.”

 

“Don’t leave me alone.” Jess said this without thinking. “I mean, that’s fine, but don’t go—”

 

“Don’t worry.” Celeste squeezed Jess.

 

They followed Massarra back across the empty piazza, back down Angela’s street. Water flowed in torrents around their feet as they struggled. Jess was about to ask where they were going when Massarra pointed at a gap between the buildings, barely two feet wide. She peered down it through the rain. A light glimmered at the end.

 

“It’s okay, it’s safe,” Massarra assured her, and she turned sideways and shimmied her way through the gap.

 

Celeste and Jess stood shaking in the rain. “What do you think?” Celeste asked.

 

Jess didn’t answer, but hopped forward. Anything to get out of this rain. She pushed herself between the buildings and edged forward. Empty beer cans and discarded food containers littered the gap, a waterfall pouring from the tops of the buildings onto her. The light at the end glimmered brighter. A fire. The gap widened into an interior courtyard between the buildings, and, finally, no rain. Looking up, awnings stretched between the walls, interlacing one over the other for four stories. Rainwater gushed from drainpipes. Reaching the end of the gap, she hopped forward, steadying herself with one arm against the wall.

 

Three old men sat around a low concrete urn containing a bright fire. They looked at Jess and nodded before returning to staring into the fire.

 

Massarra came to Jess with a blanket. “I saw you in the street.” And she had crutches. “One of my uncles had this from an old accident.” She offered Jess both.

 

“Thank you,” Celeste said from behind Jess, taking the blanket and wrapping it around her daughter.

 

“Come, sit.” Massarra indicated a wooden bench to the side of the fire. She smiled at Jess. “These are my uncles. Two of them speak English, just so you know.” She said something in what sounded like Arabic, and all three of them nodded.

 

Jess convulsed in a fit of shivering, her leg almost buckling. She held back. Four of them, and just her and Celeste. She doubted anyone would even hear them scream from the alleyway. Even if the streets weren’t deserted. Even if the rain wasn’t pounding, drowning everything out.

 

“Come on,” Celeste whispered into her ear. “They look nice.”

 

They didn’t look nice. The three old men sat like goblins, hunched over, their beards hanging between their knees. The closest turned and looked at Jess, one eye seeing, the other an opaque silver pool reflecting the firelight. She shuddered again, this time only half from the cold.

 

But the fire’s warmth beckoned.

 

Leaning on Celeste, she muttered, “Thank you,” to Massarra and stumbled to sit on the bench. Celeste sat beside her. Jess put the crutches down but kept them close, in case she needed to stand quickly. Or fend off one of the goblins. Shivering, she held her hands to the fire, beautiful life-giving warmth spreading into her fingertips.

 

“Most of our luggage was stolen.” Massarra brought Celeste a blanket she took from a backpack next to the fire. “My uncles and I were traveling home. Tomorrow we get money, drive north.”

 

“Really?” Celeste took the blanket and wrapped it around herself and Jess, pulling her closer on the bench. “That’s what happened to us, too.”

 

“I suspected,” Massarra said as she sat opposite them. “I heard you asking for help.” She pointed out the gap between the buildings. “The world is going crazy today.”

 

Jess stopped shivering. “Yes.”

 

“You heard, then? About Nomad?” Massarra asked.

 

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