The Rains of Kosomere

The Rains of Kosomere

By Marcel Vasquez

In the two years since the machines took control, the rain had not stopped. But today it slowed down, prompting Baylar Kruznik to peer out at Kosomere through a crack in the cave’s wall. The sky was as gray as it had been throughout the war, yet with the rain abated, she could see more than she had in a long time. However, that small crack, less than two inches long and half an inch wide, also meant that her family would have to move again or risk drowning in their sleep. The rain would find a way through to them. It always did. Almost as if it were designed to do so; but nothing could train water to do its bidding. Not even machines.

Baylar packed some dirt into the crack, knowing it wouldn’t change much. But once the rain started again, they would need all the help they could get. So she stuffed in as much as she could then turned and started packing her few belongings. She did so quietly, and though her family would have to do the same, she let them sleep for now. She was every bit as tired, of course; sleeplessness was a plague that had come with the rain, infecting every Kosomari by way of uncertainty. Nothing and nowhere was safe, thus sleep was something one did only when their bodies simply collapsed under the weight of exhaustion and fear.

But Baylar didn’t fear the rain.

Once she finished packing, she gathered their collective supplies and piled them near the entrance. First her father Imat, the vanguard of their little squad hefting the food, then her mother Sylvia wielding their medical supplies, herself with repair-gear, and finally her eldest brother Johan, carrying ammo and watching their backs. They had been a family of seven at the start; six inside their house when the raw destructive rain tore the place apart, and one that never even made it home to them that day.

The onset of this war was swift and brutal; unexpected or at least without warning. Machines had awakened after six centuries and this time would not await surrender. They struck seemingly everywhere at once crippling any chance of defense or even escape, though no one Baylar’s family had come across in the past two years had ever actually seen a machine. The knowledge and all stories of them had been handed down for longer than anyone still living could remember. And most of that was little more than speculation, conspiracies and ghost stories. Only the rain existed as solid proof that they had returned. The unending deluge was as relentless and unforgiving as every story Baylar had heard about the machines, and in her dreams she saw them as mist, moving ever about her world and wreaking havoc.

With everything ready, she strode over to her father and gently shook his shoulder. Once he focused his eyes on her, Baylar said, “Must move again.”

Imat didn’t question his daughter; his trust in her had become resolute during their time on the run. He simply nodded then proceeded to wake the others. None spoke as they prepared to go. Words were simply too exhausting, and like nearly all pleasantries from those days before the machines returned, they had become a scarcity.

Within a minute they had gathered by the entry, though none had thought about where to go after; and in a real sense it didn’t much matter. Nowhere was safe. The only thing they or anyone else cared about was staying dry and not dying. But the exact reasons to go on living, when this was the best for which they could hope, was lost on Baylar. She believed they should be doing more: Fighting back, searching for ways to reset their atmosphere, leaving Kosomere entirely… Anything but sitting around awaiting death.

She believed this because she did not fear the rain, because unlike the others she—

“Further in.” Imat decided, then led the way. Baylar had hoped they’d brave going out then up the mountain, just for a brief taste of the world again. She was tired of life inside those caves and didn’t like venturing deeper into catacombs that could collapse on them at any moment. Especially once the rain picked up and eroded all the earth above and around them.

They walked for what felt like hours, or perhaps entire days had slipped past before any of them realized. But at some point their mindless procession slowed and the tunnels they followed led into a large cavern lit by an array of controlled fires, and filled with more people than she had seen in one place since the war began.

“Too many others,” Baylar uttered while stepping back. Failing at first to notice the Burning Hand sigils etched onto the cavern walls to mark them as a gathering place for the Kosomari resistance.

After only two steps, Johan’s hand was there to stop her. “Provisions,” he nodded. And while he was correct, Baylar knew it wasn’t a good place to be. Crowds, even those deep inside a mountain, attracted attention. As they moved further in, she wondered vaguely if this sad looking group was the last of them. Had the machines and rain dwindled the Kosomari populace down to nothing but the fifty or so sharing this hideout?

As they perused the wares and traded for new supplies, Baylar overheard familiar tales about the machines, each one more fanciful than the last. They were made on Kosomere as servants; they landed here from another planet; they were the spirits of long-dead deities. But no matter how many times she heard them and despite what version was shared, these stories all had the same ending: War. The machines and Kosomari had fought for countless generations; and if there was a truth to how it all began, that knowledge had died with their forefathers.

Soon they found a place to rest just under a passage that inspired so many to join these fighters: “And His burning hand touched the world, boiling away the waters that plagued it.”

Despite her reservations, once she was settled against a wall and huddled between her father and brother, Baylar drifted off to sleep.

A guttural, vicious and inhuman sound tore through her dreams two hours later, and Baylar was instantly, brutally assailed by the panic spreading around her. As she and her family scrambled to their feet, a corner in the far wall of the cavern blew inward with deafening impact. Baylar covered her head but had no time to stop moving. Johan pushed her onward, and she had to help her mother as the woman tripped over a mangled body.

The fallen fires cast angry shadows and spilled awful light over the chaos of people fighting to flee. Pushing and even trampling those in front of them as they funneled and crammed into the exits.

But what were they running from, Baylar wondered. She studied the ceiling and even the area that had been blown open for any signs of leaks, but everything was dry. If the rain hadn’t poured in, what had everyone so terrified?

Suddenly the world fell out from under her and Baylar was airborne, no longer holding onto her mother or Johan as an intense hot wind bulldozed her from the left. The sheer concussive force of the explosion pulled her from reality for several moments until her body crashed and rolled along the ground.

“Baylar!” Imat yelled. She snapped her eyes open through the haze of blood smeared across her face, only to see the cause of their panic. Moving through the cavern like nothing she had ever witnessed, and so much more corporeal than she had dreamed. They were not exactly mist, but they were certainly not man. The machines were something in between and beyond both. Intelligence in physical form, which could contort and reshape itself to fill a tiny space or flood a room; or stand there like the one before Baylar was doing, mimicking her own father’s stance. It took the form of him, propped on two legs, with an arm curled upward in front of it, as the mist made fingers that clenched into a fist, then seemed to focus on Baylar.

The ground began to rumble, as the machine’s hand vibrated and its mist crept up to form a head-like orb, from which a red glow started to emanate and syphon all the air around it.

Baylar was transfixed by the machine as it stepped toward her, unable to pull her gaze away from it. But her family sprang forward and Baylar latched onto Johan’s side, then ran with them toward the remaining exit. Just as they were reaching it another machine materialized before them, causing the family to stumble over each other as they tried to stop.

They were trapped, along with about a dozen others that had failed to escape. And the rain was coming. Long before the others noticed, Baylar felt the familiar tremor beneath her shoes that preceded a flood. She knew that the machines realized it too. Baylar wasn’t exactly sure how she knew this but felt something like a ripple through the air. Then at once they made a synchronized noise then drifted up toward the ceiling where they burrowed into the earth seconds prior to the rain rushing into the cavern.

“Flood!” She yelled. Her family cut away from that exit and across the cavern looking for higher ground. Seeing none they could easily climb, they sprinted toward a tunnel as the rain crashed into the cavern, quickly engulfing three people, whose screams were only half realized as they disappeared beneath the angry murk.

Baylar was behind her family, and chanced a look back over her shoulder, to see exactly what she knew would be there. Death in liquid form, tearing its way through the little tunnel. Hunting her family.

Her foot caught and she sprawled forward. Johan noticed before their parents did and turned back. He grabbed her just as the rain caught up.

“We’re okay!” Johan called up to their parents, who were looking back but not fully slowing down. They cut to the left into another tunnel that banked upward, Baylar and Johan did the same. After going about twenty yards, their parents stopped at the top of the slope and the family regrouped. Catching their breath, they took stock of the situation and realized that Baylar’s pants and shoes were wet.

Imat’s eyes widened; Sylvia voiced their disbelief. “Baylar… Rain touched you?”

She looked down at her clothes then back to her parents. “Doesn’t hurt. I’m okay, mère. Happened before too.”

The four of them stood there huddled closely in silence as the flood slowly rose up the tunnel, contemplating what it meant that Baylar had not been burned or otherwise affected. Three of them also wondered how they hadn’t noticed before, and why she’d never told them.

Truth was, while she didn’t fear the rain, Baylar was wholly afraid of her secret. Afraid of what responsibilities or danger might come from it, how her family might react, and whether they would die because she could do what apparently no one else could.

Before any of them had a chance to voice their thoughts however, the same awful sound they’d heard back in the cavern filled the space around them. The machines were making their way out of the walls. There were two tunnels available to the family for escape.

“Split up.” Imat commanded.

“No!” Baylar protested, but Sylvia pointed out, “Two tunnels. They chase us. You and Johan go.”

Baylar wanted to argue more, but the machines were nearly free and her brother was already leading her away with unquestioning faith in her parents’ terrible plan. Of course they should stay all together, it’s how they would remain safest!

“Mère, please!” She pleaded, looking from Sylvia to Imat. “We die without you.”

Imat’s lip trembled, “You matter. You make things better. Now go! Meet at Homestead.”

With that he picked up a rock and threw it hard at one of the materializing machines, then took his wife’s hand and they ran down the curving tunnel while Johan dragged Baylar to the one on the right.

The tunnel echoed with sounds she prayed weren’t from her parents, which were soon drowned out by sloshing waves and their distance. After running for several minutes, the siblings finally slowed for breath. But Baylar wanted to keep moving, because the moment she stopped all her worry caught up. What if they couldn’t reach Homestead? It had been a year since they were last there and it was likely sunk now as well. What if the machines found her parents; would they be executed, or experimented on? What if she and Johan ran out of food, or worse, never found their way out of the mountain? It wasn’t like they were a family of miners. They didn’t know this place beyond the occasional rumors and random pieces of a map they’d found three months before.

“Hey, must move.” Johan said, hiding the worry in his voice that only she could detect.

“Where? We’re lost.”

“Can’t stay. Follow lines.” He pointed to wiring she hadn’t noticed before, running high up along the wall. They’d made it into the old mines; whether these lines would lead them to the surface, or deeper in, was anybody’s guess. To her it all looked the same, but she trusted her brother and followed his lead.

What seemed like an hour later they reached a small yet airy clearing between two tunnels, stinking of moisture and old fuel. But to Baylar it was a beautiful scent that signaled how close they were to the outside. Around them were old wooden walkways and other structures around different shafts and adits that appeared unused since before the war—none of which seemed to contain anything useful. But they searched anyway, partly just for the reprieve from running.

As they explored, Baylar started to feel the nascent sensation of rain accumulating nearby, but she couldn’t tell exactly where. “Johan,” She began with warning in her voice.

When he turned to look at her, the sensation turned to a lurch in her stomach, accompanied by the tremulous sound of rocks crumpling under immense weight. Before the siblings could reach each other, a torrent of liquid swept Baylar off and carried her ten yards in two seconds. She grabbed onto a wooden pillar. Then struggled to pull herself out from the undertow, holding onto the wooden landing and shaft entrance for purchase. Back across from her Johan was in a similar position but had managed to avoid being swept along as she was.

Baylar called out to him, “I’ll swim to you!”

“No! Current’s too strong. Go, I’ll find you.”

“But, I don’t wanna be alone.” She let her words trail off, not wanting to sound weak. Yet, she needed him to understand, there was so much to say and time was slipping away while the rain rose fast. “You don’t know where these tunnels lead! What if we get stuck or come out on opposite ends… Please Johan.”

“Don’t be afraid.” He replied after lifting further up onto the platform.

“I don’t fear the rain or machines. I fear being away from you, mère and père.”

“Me too,” He admitted. “But père’s right. You’re too important now. Must survive. For Kosomere to survive.” Johan gave her one last look, his face a mix of concern and love, then disappeared into the tunnel. Knowing that if he’d stayed a second longer, neither would have gone on alone.

Baylar was on her own, and as she followed the shaft upward, she tamped down the myriad emotions boiling up inside her. All except for one: Anger. Two years of war had stamped out nearly everything the Kosomari were able to feel aside from apathy and acceptance. She had been no different in that regard, but now it was all gone. She was mad. The machines had taken everything and subjugated her people with their rain.

Yet, Baylar did not fear what others did. The rain did not hurt her, she could sense it coming, just like the machines. She would find her family, locate a gathering of the Burning Hand, and do what others could not.

The machines brought destruction to her world, and Baylar would bring ruin to theirs.