Ashwater

Chapter 2: That Last Morning

Before the storm fell upon Ashwater, and before the waters had begun to rise, the morning had seemed normal enough to Matt as he had made the short drive to work. On the way, he listened to The Darkness on a loop; although he had armfuls of CDs crammed into the footwell beside him, he didn't have the energy to choose one, so The Darkness it was. And probably would have been all week.

After he parked, he rested his head against the steering wheel. It was only for a moment but, when he raised it again, Claire-from-admin was looking back through the misted windscreen, stopped like it was the sudden appearance of God before her, rather than a battered old Fiesta.

Matt palmed an orb of glass clear before his eyes and smiled, too wide.

He flicked off the lights and mouthed 'good-morning.' She nodded back before wandering across the car park, her thoughts back with the synchronisation of the college's systems. All manner of spittle-strewn swears were blustering through her mind, none of which she would ever dream of saying.

Matt bit his lip and carelessly swung open the driver's door on its lazy, uneven path. He stretched himself into the chill January air, his arms pulled tight to two and seven. His back cricked worryingly and he turned, dragging his feet through gravel as he walked to the boot.

Everything felt slow, like he was still wandering in a dream. For one reason or another, it was an idea that would stick with him for some time.

As he slung a heavy satchel over his shoulder and fished out two plastic bags of folders, he kept his eyes on the college. The grey cement block that stood three floors over him.

"Another term," he whispered to himself, "Let's get going." And, after a deep breath, that's what he did.

***

He set the bags down as he opened the classroom door; it was colder inside than out. Shivering, he set the heaters on, switched on the lights and started up his PC. The whiteboard flickered to life like a meagre collection of Christmas lights. Four in a row, one of them cracked.

Matt set his folder down on his desk. It didn't open straight to his notes, they needed some finding. He ran his finger, tracing a line under his erratic scrawlings; next week he'd be more thorough, he'd be more detailed and tidier too. Next week.

The clock said 8:15 but he knew it was wrong. Twenty minutes wrong.

He marched downstairs, trying to force his energy levels up. Despite the nerves jangling, the mind racing over topics and plans, despite it all, his feet were still heavy. His heart began to beat with urgency but he walked straight to the kettle and switched it on.

Ryan was sat, fuzzy-haired at his computer, half hidden behind filing cabinets as he worked. His white shirt looked half-ironed and a back-pack, the kind kids took to school, sat on the floor at his side.

"Good weekend?"

Ryan looked startled and turned in his seat, looking to Matt with pale, sunken eyes. "Not bad," he smiled, "Did a walk again, 'cross the moors. Set up a tent with the group and drank ourselves warm. Good fun and all. Good stuff. A hard walk back with a hang-over!"

For a moment, they paused, both of them having noticed it at the same time. Matt edged closer to the window in front of Ryan until he stood alongside his friend.

"Now that's something." Ryan said, and Matt agreed.

The staffroom's windows ran as a strip along the two outer walls and, with the blinds already pulled up, it offered quite a view. From there, they would usually see the car park, the last reaches of the town and then the hills that hid the motorway and city beyond. That was the usual view, but not the one that greeted them that morning.

"How long has that been there?"

"I don't know."

"You've been here the whole time?"

"Working, yeah. Since seven."

"And you didn't see it?"

"No."

The hills were gone, enveloped in a thick cloud that churned and coiled its way over the rooftops towards them. It's dark grey edges became near black at its centre, slowly making the morning retreat from its approach. Like a wall, it offered nothing of what lay behind it. Or in it. Like the day itself, it felt chilling and unreal.

"Good thing you weren't camping in that." The moment held long and unsure until Matt asked, "You still doing your planning?"

"That all you think of me?" Ryan said, half-laughing. "Got an e-mail through, chasing reviews."

"Reviews?"

"Due end of week," he replied with a shrug, "but I had a spare moment."

Matt's heart fell; another problem to worry about and yet more time to give up. Before he said anything else, the kettle had boiled and he found himself pouring two black coffees.

He only made it half way to Ryan's computer.

A wicked barb of lightning scorched the sky, crackling and close enough to feel it in the air. Matt stopped there, right on the spot, something inside holding him back from the window - like he was seeing a storm for the first time.

Alarms sounded in the car park, the different tones mistimed and overlapping. "This is going to mess up the dual carriage way," Matt said. "Half the college will be..."

The second strike of lightning was closer and more vicious. There was a moment where Matt registered its movement, the jagged fork it formed in the sky, and then he saw the glow of flame from a road or two away.

Matt stepped forward, realising the cups of coffee had hit the floor as he kicked one away with a clumsy step. "Did that just happen?"

"Where is it?" Ryan was already up, his face planted against the window.

"You think the dealership, maybe?"

"Or Brackers. Could be Brackers."

"You seen that happen before?"

"Who has?"

"What do we do now?"