10
Darana
The sky opens up above our heads the very moment I slam the door of Viento.
The crash is so brutal it makes every bone in my body vibrate.
The raindrops hit the metal body of the car as if someone were throwing handfuls of rubble down on us from above, and in less than three seconds, the windshield turns into an opaque, milky curtain of water.
“Start the car now, Bennet!” I yell, bouncing in my seat.
“I’m getting to it. Don’t rush me!” the know-it-all growls at me as she turns the key. The diesel engine responds with a roar that sounds like heaven.
Camila steps on the gas, ready to pull us out of the quagmire the countryside is turning into, but the rear wheels spin wildly, kicking up a crust of mud that slams against the undercarriage with a terrifying noise.
“Slow down, please!” I tell her, gesturing into the void through the window. “If you stomp on that pedal like that, we’ll lose traction and be stuck here forever.”
Camila lifts her foot slightly, searching for traction. Water rushes through the ruts, forming a wild river that sweeps away rocks, branches, and the last shreds of my patience.
“Do you see that line of eucalyptus trees on the right?” Camila asks, pressing her nose against the window like a little girl in a candy store. “Well, you can’t see a thing, but we know it’s there.”
“I can barely make out the hood of the car, Bennet, let alone see any trees,” I blurt out, squinting and clinging to the dashboard handle as if my life depended on it.
A colossal flash of lightning—the kind that makes your eyes sparkle—illuminates the interior of the car.
For a split second, I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye: her face is drenched, her dark hair plastered to her temples, and her expression is so devilishly focused that she even looks absolutely gorgeous to me.
“Stop it already, Calloway. Snap out of it.” And boy, do I snap out of it, because we’re about to crash into… whatever that is.
“Turn right!” I yell at her, completely losing my cool. “To the right—you’re heading into the ditch!”
Camila jerks the wheel sharply. Too sharply. And in an instant, the tires lose traction.
The car slides sideways with an elegance that doesn’t fit the situation at all; the mud gives way, and we feel a sharp, disheartening impact as the right rear wheel drops into a ditch hidden by the downpour.
The engine roars like a wounded lion; the wheels spin at a thousand revolutions, but the car doesn’t move a single damn millimeter forward. We’re stuck.
“No, no, no… Damn it!” I mutter, watching as she shifts back and forth between first and reverse to see if she can rock the car free. But nothing happens. “Stop. Stop burning up the clutch,” I order her.
“I’m not giving up at the first sign of trouble, Calloway! This car has weathered worse storms!”
“Bennet, hit the brakes!”
My shout freezes her in her tracks, and Camila suddenly lets go of the pedals. The silence that settles inside the car is almost eerie, broken only by the deafening drumming of the hail and the wind lashing against the bodywork.
“We’re stuck,” she declares, her arms crossed over the steering wheel.
“Thanks for the status report, Ms. Obvious,” I retort, shooting her a withering glare.
Camila doesn’t take the bait. She snorts, lets go of the steering wheel, pulls her tablet out of the glove compartment, and starts tapping away at the screen.
As a woman of the countryside and of action, I decide to resort to old-school technology.
I unclip the walkie-talkie from my belt—since cell phones won’t do us any good—press the button on the side, and hold it to my mouth.
“Bert! Can you hear me?” I shout over the commotion outside. “Bert, answer me! We’re stuck on the hill in the field. The road has collapsed, and the car has no traction. We need you to bring the big tractor to pull us out. Bert!”
I release the button, waiting for my foreman’s hoarse voice, but instead, the device’s speaker spits out a high-pitched crackle, followed by a deafening roar that crackles in sync with the lightning outside.
“Damn piece of junk!” I grumble, giving it a couple of affectionate taps against the palm of my hand to see if it’ll come back to life.
“It’s the electrical activity from the storm, Calloway. Forget about communicating by radio,” Camila tells me without looking up from her maps. “The ionization of the lower atmosphere is interfering with all UHF frequencies. Put that away before you get an electric shock.”
Frustrated, I toss the device onto the seat. I cross my arms and lean against the passenger-side window, pressing my forehead against the glass to survey the disaster outside and see if I can make out the roofs of the main ranch. All the while, I rest my hand on the inner door frame.
“Don’t touch that!” Camila suddenly yells at me.
Before I can react, she grabs my wrist with a sharp yank, pulling me so hard that she drags me roughly toward the center of the car, leaving me almost pressed against… her… damn… lips.
Oh, oh.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I protest, rubbing my sore wrist, my heart in my throat from the scare. Yeah, that’s going to leave a mark. “Did a bug bite you or something?”
“The car is a Faraday cage, Calloway,” she explains, still gripping my wrist. “The metal frame will conduct all the electricity along the outer surface if lightning strikes us, which is very likely given how things are shaping up. But if you’re touching the door frame or the window, the current could pass through you, and you’ll end up more fried than a croquette.
So keep your arms crossed and don’t touch absolutely anything. ”
I stare at her, processing her scientific spiel. I swallow hard, glance at the door next to me, and—shrugging so I don’t look like a coward—force myself to press closer to her in the narrow center of the car.
“This is the last straw,” I mutter.
“More like basic physics, Darana,” she replies. “I’d rather you give me a dirty look than have to perform CPR on you in the middle of a mud pit. Although, knowing how stubborn you are, I’m sure you’d still argue with me even if you were dead.”
“Of course. I’d argue with you even about the color of my shroud,” I snap back.
Outside, things are getting worse. The rain is starting to pound so hard that the car’s roof sounds like a heavy-metal drum kit. A gust of hurricane-force wind shakes the Toyota from side to side.
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” Camila announces, giving the screen of her tablet one final tap.
“Get out? Are you crazy?” I ask, staring at her in disbelief. “It’s a flood out there! If we go out, we’ll get swept away by the current. Or worse, a fucking lightning bolt will strike us. And no, thanks, I don’t want to be Darana on the barbecue.”
“If we stay inside, this car is going to turn into a swimming pool on wheels in less than ten minutes,” she retorts, shoving the digital screen right under my nose.
“The sheds are less than fifty yards up the hill. If we get moving now, we’ll make it on foot before there’s a chance of a flash flood. ”
I look through the fogged-up windshield, then at her. There’s not a trace of doubt in her eyes—just that unshakable determination she had years ago, before she packed her bags and left us all in the lurch.
“If we get out of this, I swear I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth to give you a piece of my mind,” I warn her, gripping my hat tightly.
“Fewer threats and more legwork, Calloway. Move it!”
We throw the doors open on the count of three, and the outside world hits us like a slap in the face.
The wind knocks the breath out of us, and the rain soaks us through to our ID cards in less than a second.
The mud reaches almost to my calves—sticky and heavy as hell—devouring my boots with every step I try to take.
“This way!” Camila shouts over the roar, grabbing my shirt sleeve so I don’t lose my bearings.
The storm is deafening—a frenzy of water, hail, and wind that bends the branches of the eucalyptus trees. The cold pierces my bones, but the adrenaline keeps me on my feet. Camila moves ahead of me, cutting a path through the red, gooey mud with an agility I didn’t remember her having.
A brutal clap of thunder erupts right above us, shaking the ground so violently that I stumble and nearly kiss the mud.
Before I fall, Camila’s hand finds mine amid the chaos.
Her fingers intertwine with mine with tremendous, firm, and desperate strength.
I don’t know who reaches for whom, but we cling to each other as if letting go meant vanishing off the map.
“Don’t fall behind!” she roars at me, turning her head for a second. Her face is covered in water, and her eyes are fixed on me. “Say something so I know you’re with me and haven’t frozen in place!”
“I’m still here, you pain in the neck!” I shout back, squeezing her fingers with all my might. “Although I still think you’re crazy for making me run across my own property in a hailstorm!”
“It’s a necessary madness!” she defends herself, slipping—but we catch ourselves together thanks to our tight grip on each other’s hands. “Come on, I can already see the entrance to the stables!”
We stumble into the entrance of the stables, pushing the wooden door open with all our might. As soon as we manage to close it behind us, the howling wind dies down a little, but inside, the situation isn’t exactly cause for celebration.
The animals are terrified. The horses are whinnying, kicking at the partitions, and shifting from side to side with their eyes wide with fear. A wild bolt of lightning strikes just a few yards from the building, and the impact makes the ceiling beams creak before knocking out all the lights.
Great. Just what we needed to top off this dream day.
I just hope we don’t end up in flames.
“Don’t move,” I order Camila. “You know horses get dangerous if they sense fear.”