Bright Cold Day Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Text Copyright © 2019 Victoria E. Rugg

  Cover Design Copyright © 2019 Victoria E. Rugg

  All rights reserved.

  For more information contact:

  [email protected]

  To my mother, Lorayne.

  For always encouraging me to chase my dreams.

  I finally did it.

  PROLOGUE

  Rosa flinched back from the piercing shrieks that streamed up from the world below. The walls around her trembled. The effort to support each other made them crumble slightly with a loud crack. She took a step back from the broken window and looked over at Rae, who sat silently on the lone couch, staring at his hands.

  "They hit the school," Rosa muttered, trying to force the images from her mind.

  Outside heavy smoke had clouded up, and flames stretched higher than any of the surrounding buildings. The dry summer air hadn't helped.

  People crowded around the perimeter and searched for their loved ones amidst the chaos. Small, scorched bodies were dragged from the burning building.

  Screams of grief echoed throughout the room, having slipped through the cracks in the window pane. The cracking of fire could just be heard behind the mayhem. Sirens shot through it all. A piercing noise that drilled straight through to the back of your brain.

  These were noises Rosa was all too used to hearing. Death and chaos had clouded around her for as long as she could remember.

  She had often wondered if they were the last sounds her father had ever heard. Wondered what it was like for him in those final moments. He had been one of the many killed in an attack when she was seven. Ten years later and she still had no answers. Was he scared? Had he known what was about to happen? Did he know he would die when he stepped in front of the gun aimed at his wife?

  Too many of the kids who had just been murdered would have understood what was happening. They had already lived in fear from the moment of their first breaths. Now what little existence they'd had was ripped away. The timeline of their lives cropped shorter than the others around them. Jagged edges reaching for what should have been.

  That kind of thinking left Rosa stumped. That someone could be alive and smiling one second, and the next they were dead. There was no big moment before. One second you were here, the next not. It wasn't fair. No one but their families would remember those children, and what happened to them would get lost in the sea of terrorist attacks. It was just how it was.

  "I think we should go back now," Rae said, as he rose to his feet. He handed Rosa a bullet-proof vest, letting it dangle by its strap from his tanned fingers. As she took the worn fabric in her grasp she remembered the first set of hands that had given it to her.

  Her father's. He'd wanted her to feel safe. He'd wanted her to be protected as she roamed the leftover world, tiptoeing around the hurt and violence. It had been issued to him when he began his work for the police. Back when they still had a fully functional force. Now there were few people willing to take on the job. Crime was usually sorted by exiling the accused. Dead the second they breached Xiet territory. Only the occasional criminal found themselves locked up. It was not a mercy.

  Not many of the protective vests remained in the hands of Pallan citizens anymore. Her father had been trusted. He should have been wearing it at all hours of the day. But he had cared more about his seven year old daughter.

  Looking at the damage done today, a bullet-proof vest would have been next to useless if Rosa had been caught in the action. And if her father had kept it, and worn it as he should have, the fatal shot wouldn't have even pierced his skin.

  Rosa shrugged it on over her faded, black jacket and stepped towards the door frame. The hotel door itself had been gone for months, a victim of the harsh winter they'd had the previous year. Firewood. No one was ever going to know, apart from Rosa and her best friend. Hotels, along with most public areas, had been closed down for years in an attempt to minimise the damage caused by Xiet attacks.

  Rosa didn't know what the inside of a classroom was meant to look like. One that hadn't been ransacked and vandalised years before she was born. She didn't know how a doctor's office, or a supermarket were supposed to look. She'd never been inside a hospital. At 17 her education had been put on hold four years prior. She had only her imagination to form some kind of idea of normality, as it was once known.

  Medic stations were set up in some of the houses for emergencies and an attempt at health care, but it had become common to die from what were once considered curable injuries and illnesses.

  Schools were also supposed to be abandoned. Officially children were all supposed to be homeschooled, kept away from the threat of being outside of their own homes. However most people didn't have the time or resources, and they gathered their children together to be taught in groups. Some had even taken to using the abandoned primary school and its remaining resources. Maybe they just wanted something to be the same as it used to be.

  Despite it having been almost one year and four months since the last bombing, it was impossible to tell when things were safe. Nothing was ever truly safe. And those who'd managed to delude themselves otherwise had just paid the price.

  Rosa and Rae had taken to hiding out in this old apartment building a while back. Room 206 was the most peaceful place they could find to just be alone and not have to think about everything wrong with the world. It all stayed locked outside. They didn't have to look at it unless they turned to face the window. They could breathe. For about five minutes. Inevitably there would be another attack of some kind and the sirens would go off, as they were then, and struggle to cover the noise of grief.

  "I don't really want to go back," Rosa said, looking down at her pale hands. She was thinking about her mother, something she often found herself doing when things like this happened.

  Jacki Nye had been right behind him when her husband was shot twice, once in the chest, once in his right arm. Not an instant kill, he eventually drowned in his own blood and died in her arms. She was never the same after that. Unable to bring herself back from the edge of her grief, she tipped into the world of delirium. She lived in her night clothes and muttered to her family as if her husband was still alive. As though everything was still okay.

  Her traumatised state was hard for the fragmented family to keep up with. She forced out all idea, all truth about the deadly life she had in Palla, and as such she couldn't understand the danger anymore. Nothing made sense to her. A bomb could be a blast of music from the neighbour's house for all she knew. For all she noticed. She was lost in her own memories.

  Rosa didn't want to go home to her. To those oblivious eyes. Even with her older brother and sister waiting. Their mother didn't protect them when bad things happened. She probably didn't even know that Rosa had been out in close proximity to an explosion. Didn't even know that she was in danger.

  The walk back home wasn't normally that long. Rosa only lived a few streets away, and Rae was just around the corner. But it was impossible to ignore the horrific sight that unravelled as they moved. A small group was trying to put the flames out, uselessly throwing buckets of lake water into the blaze. Eventually, when people had calmed down enough, more would join the effort and it would become effective.

  But not now.

  Not yet.

  Now there was burning and cursing and struggling.

  Reckless individuals kept running inside the school buildings searching for their children, holding onto the false belief that they could still be alive. It made Rosa's heart s
tutter to see the grief etched into the faces of nameless parents and siblings. Yet she knew she would never talk to them. Never ask them if they were okay. They would fade into the recess of her mind until they were just part of another number.

  26 people were in that building when the bomb came crashing down with its deadly aim. Three had been teaching. Most were under the age of twelve. There were no survivors.

  Rosa felt stray drops of water hit across her shoulders and neck as she walked past a woman flinging bucket after bucket of water at the raging heat. Tossing the empty ones to the side for others to catch and refill.

  There was no such thing as a fire engine here. Lack of petrol or places to go had long since rendered vehicles useless. They were parked out of the way at the edge of the city, creating some kind of monument. A sculpture in honour of what they would never have again. Sometimes Rosa's brother Liam would take her there, and they'd try to imagine what it would be like if it were safe to be outside for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. Their favourite thing to do was imagine road trips. In a car that actually went and was driving. On and on. Free to go without stopping or being stopped.

  As she walked Rosa tried not to look at the silent bodies that were lined up along the road, waiting for identification. As far as she could tell that would be mostly guesswork.

  She looked onwards with hardened eyes and ignored the surge of helplessness that sprang up inside her. Instead she turned to the flourish of anger. Who could do this to a bunch of kids? What kind of sick monster would do this?

  "Are you okay? Rosa?" Without realising it she'd frozen mid step. She allowed Rae to lead her away from the school and focused her attention on the contrast between their skin as his hand fitted to hers. His deep olive, her unwavering ivory. She stared to ground herself away from the terror. To give herself the ability to keep walking. To get away.

  Despite the fire she felt cold.

  The smell of burning flesh clung to her. Absorbed itself into her clothing, her hair. She would never feel clean again.

  They slowed for a moment as she tried to calm herself.

  "I'm okay, I'm fine. We need to go." With those breathless words she powered down the street as fast as she could without running, Rae keeping pace with her. He refused to let go of her hand.

  Too many times Rosa had been driven to feel this way. Xiet attacks were becoming more frequent. There was a shooting just the day before. And a couple of days before that there was a group of five people who went around half the city furiously stabbing random civilians. Rosa couldn't shake the notion that something big was going to happen. She could feel it.

  As the pair approached Rosa's house she noticed a dull grey box sitting just outside her front door. The week's rations had arrived while she was gone.

  This was a weekly occurrence. Every Tuesday a heavy metal box would appear in front of every house in Palla, seemingly out of nowhere, although Liam swore he'd spotted someone setting it down once. There had been no way to tell if they'd been delivering it or trying to steal it. Not that the attempt would have been very effective. The only way to open those boxes was using the fingerprint scanners. All ten fingerprints of at least one member of the family were required to activate it. Once they were unlocked it was a free for all.

  After saying a quick goodbye to Rae, Rosa approached and unlocked it before reaching inside the protective steel casing for the plastic supply box. A red light flicked off at her actions. The metal outside would be collected at some point during the night.

  Rosa held the week's worth of food tight to her body. One benefit of the limited number of supplies was that it made it easier to carry.

  "I'm home!" Rosa called out as she stepped through the doorway. Almost immediately she found herself attacked in a bear hug by her brother.

  "I thought you might have been caught in the explosion."

  "I'm fine," she reassured him. He took the box from her and headed towards the kitchen. Rosa trailed just behind him.

  "I was with Rae."

  "And where were you two? The announcement said not to go outdoors."

  "We were fine. We were inside. Look, I'm home now. Isn't that all that matters?"

  By this point Gabrielle had entered the kitchen, her dirty blonde hair in disarray. She grabbed the supply box from Liam's hands and frowned at the weight of it.

  "They must've cut it down again." Despite her nonchalant attitude Rosa could see the redness in her eyes. Her family had been worried. Or at least the ones who mattered.

  No. Not quite mattered.

  Cared.

  Despite how frustrating it was to live with Jacki, Rosa couldn't bring herself to think her mother wasn't important. She was absolutely useless as a caregiver, and had been ever since Rosa's dad had died ten years ago. But she still mattered. She was still family. And even though she couldn't comprehend the danger she often put her family in, no one could deny how much she loved her children.

  Gabby began loading their supplies into the small, padlocked cupboard that lived in the spot meant for a refrigerator. The ration box contained two cans of preserved meat, a small sack filled with enough dried rice for each family member to have one cup each day, two cans of mixed vegetables, and a couple of bottles of water. Thanks to Liam's job at the poultry farm there were also two eggs for each family member. A lone can of fruit salad gave promise of something with more taste, the little bit of sugar that arrived on alternating weeks. And finally, tucked away at the very bottom of the box, there were a few ration cards for the family's remaining allotment of water. Those were to be traded in at the government supply building. The system made the boxes more manageable while having the added bonus of giving people a false sense of control.

  While Gabby sorted and stored Liam and Rosa walked out into the dilapidated living room. The small television had long stopped working, though it still lived in the corner of the room, coated in layers of dust. Against the wall, directly opposite the couch, was a radio. It was bulky and large, older than Palla itself, but it was the best they could afford. Back before even Liam, the oldest of the three, had been born. When the Nyes still had something worth trading. Rosa hated it.

  The radio was the only way to get updates on this stupid terrorist war. You had to listen to hundreds of recruitment advertisements — the defence force was always eager for more hands — but every now and then there was something useful. Information about tragedies that had become weekly, or even daily, occurrences. New government rules and regulations. Changes in the twisted alliance with Tikorania that allowed Palla to be attacked by its military.

  The Xiet military branch was almost completely separated from the rest of Tikorania. And all of Palla's dealings went through the Xiets. Word would never get back to the Tikoranian's of their treatment. Not to the full extent. And even if they somehow managed to get through to them, who was going to care? Tikorania was where the Xiets came from. Like they would be any better. They weren't just letting this happen, they were the ones instructing it.

  At that moment all Rosa could hear was static. Though that never deterred a respectful family from leaving it on in the background. Even the smaller, more fractured and broken families managed to scrounge up a radio system. The fear of being even more destroyed was real for everyone. The best thing the radio would or could ever do for them was warn them in advance of an attack. So the fuzzy crackling was a constant sound everywhere but the haven Rosa and Rae had back at the hotel.

  Just as Liam slumped down onto the couch their mother walked in from one of the bedrooms.

  "Hello darling." She smiled, taking a step towards Rosa, who in turn shuffled back. Subconsciously protecting her heart from what she knew was coming.

  "Did you pick up some milk? I've been trying to get a good coffee all day but your sister keeps telling me we don't have any." They hadn't had what Jacki referred to as 'good coffee' since before Rosa was born. Coffee powder was available, but it was only good if you wanted it black. Powdered milk was only
provided to families with small children or infants. And forget about sugar. It would be unsweetened. Bitter like the life surrounding them already. But at least there was coffee.

  Every Christmas they were given a special ration box containing a small pot of coffee powder, a jar of salt, and something sweet. It could be anything from fresh fruit, to a jar of jam, to a small bottle of juice concentrate. Sometimes, if things were bad, it would just be another can of fruit salad. Rosa could remember one time, when she was about five years old, there'd been a piece of chocolate included. It was the first and only time she'd been able to try the stuff and she still had a hard time convincing herself it was real.

  If that was what her mother expected to have everyday, then of course the bitter, black coffee would not suffice.

  "No, Mum. They were all out at the store." Jacki didn't seem to notice the ash dusted over her youngest daughter. Nor the footprints of soot left in the carpet.

  "That's annoying. Maybe we should go out for brunch a bit later." Rosa did nothing but nod in response. There was nowhere to go out to eat. But trying to explain the terrors of the world to a broken person was not something Rosa wanted to do. All she wanted to do was take a bath. To be clean. But they wouldn't have the water for that unless she went and lugged it home from the lake, bucket by bucket. And she didn't even want to think about how much of their tiny bar of soap it would take for her to feel clean ever again. She'd only been given it by one of the local medics a few days earlier and it had to last them the next two months.

  Jacki smiled again before leaving the house through the side door. She liked to trick herself into thinking that she was gardening. Pulling weed after weed out of the dirt, but never planting anything. Not that there were any seeds to plant anyway. At least it kept her occupied. Put her somewhere that her children could always find her. Keep tabs on her. Make sure she was safe.

  Rosa sighed and walked back through the small archway separating their kitchen and living room to join Gabby in assessing their supplies. Things were getting harder. But there was still enough rice to keep them from starving throughout the week. Once cooked it would double in size to give them enough for two decent meals each day. Not fun, but manageable. Going to bed hungry was common, going to bed starving was a constant threat and a memory no one could forget.