The phone vibrated.
Daniel took a few seconds to look at it.
He was still sitting in the hall’s stands, his elbows resting on his knees.
His hands clasped.
Around him, the hall was still full of movement, though it no longer looked the same as before.
There were fewer people.
Some stretchers were empty.
Others were still occupied by people sleeping, talking quietly or staring at the ceiling, doing nothing.
Daniel focused on the screen.
It was a message from Lina:
I’m home now. Come when you can. There’s no rush.
Daniel stared at the screen.
There’s no rush.
Those words sounded strange to him.
Everything had seemed to be in a rush since the Fall.
The ambulances.
The messages.
The calls.
The news.
People looking for people.
The constant need to know what had happened, who was all right, which areas were still cut off, whether life would ever be the same again.
He stood up.
For a moment, he stared at the hall.
He thought of the cup.
Of plastic sliding across metal.
Tap.
Then he thought of Lina.
He left.
Outside, the city moved slowly.
Too slowly.
Daniel walked along streets he knew by heart.
A bus stopped beside a pavement, one of its windows broken.
Further on, two workers were putting a barrier in front of a damaged building façade.
A man swept glass from a shop entrance while talking on the phone.
“Yes, Mum, I’m fine.”
Daniel kept walking.
He heard the same phrase several times.
I’m fine.
Said by different people to different relatives.
As if those two words had become the whole city’s password.
At a bus stop, several people gathered around a phone.
No one seemed to look at a screen alone any more.
The news passed from hand to hand.
Videos.
Rumours.
Voice messages.
Daniel passed a corner where a group was watching a recording.
He did not intend to stop.
He did anyway.
On the screen, several papers circled a person.
The recording shook.
“It’s the wind,” a voice said.
Another replied:
“What wind? Look at the trees.”
Daniel looked.
The trees in the background were still.
The papers were not.
They spun around that person in irregular circles.
For a moment, he saw a sheet of paper moving through the hall again.
Lina’s blanket lifting just a few centimetres.
The cup.
Tap.
He looked away.
Kept walking.
When he reached his parents’ building, he stood outside the entrance for a few seconds.
He had made that journey hundreds of times.
But something was different.
He went upstairs.
Before he could knock, the door opened.
His mother was on the other side.
She looked at him.
Said nothing.
Simply hugged him.
Daniel went rigid for a second.
Then he put his arms around her.
“Mum...”
When she finally pulled away, she cupped his face in both hands.
“Let me look at you.”
“I’m fine,” Daniel said.
“Right. You’ve been saying that since yesterday.”
Inside, his father stood beside the table.
There were new dark circles under his eyes.
He seemed to have aged several days in just one.
They looked at each other.
For a moment, neither quite knew whether to shake hands, hug or simply nod.
His father finally came over and patted him on the shoulder.
“You gave us quite a scare.”
“I didn’t make anything fall,” Daniel said.
“Here we go.”
Daniel let out a laugh.
It was absurd.
But he needed it.
As they stepped apart, their fingers brushed.
Snap.
They both pulled their hands away.
Daniel looked at his fingers.
His father did the same.
“Did you feel that?”
“Static,” he said.
And left it there.
Daniel went on into the living room.
Lina was there.
Sitting.
Watching him.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello.”
Neither said anything more.
There was no need.
For a few seconds, being home seemed enough.
The television was on, the volume low.
The images kept changing.
Damaged streets.
Emergency teams.
Hospitals.
Official statements.
Recordings sent in by members of the public.
A presenter spoke while videos from different cities appeared behind him.
No name.
No explanation.
Daniel tried not to pay attention.
He sat at the table.
His mother put food in front of him without asking whether he was hungry.
“Eat.”
“Mum...”
“Eat,” she repeated.
Daniel obeyed.
They talked about practical things.
Water.
Food.
Relatives.
Which streets were still closed.
Which supermarkets had opened.
Who had managed to speak to whom.
His father mentioned that some transport services were starting to run again.
His mother explained that a neighbour still had not managed to find a relative.
Lina barely spoke.
For a few minutes, it worked.
For a few minutes, they could pretend that was all they had to worry about.
Concrete problems.
Normal problems.
Things that could be solved by making a call, buying water or waiting a few hours.
Until the picture on the television changed.
A vertical recording filled the screen.
A group of people ran down a street while someone shouted behind the camera.
The image cut off.
Another recording.
A flash.
Another.
Something moving without anyone seeming to touch it.
His father picked up the remote and turned the volume down even further.
“They’ve been showing the same thing all day.”
Daniel’s mother put a plate on the table.
“Then turn it off.”
“I want to know what they’re saying.”
“They’re not saying anything,” she replied.
Daniel looked at Lina.
She was not watching the television.
Her hands were wrapped around a cup.
Her fingers tense.
“Are you all right?” Daniel asked.
Lina looked up.
“Yes.”
Too quickly.
“Sure?”
“I’m tired.”
Their mother joined in from the kitchen.
“We’re all tired.”
Lina nodded.
Looked down again.
Daniel kept watching her.
Something was different.
He could not say what.
Lina let go of the cup.
Rubbed one arm.
Then the other.
“Are you cold?” her mother asked.
“No.”
“Then put something on.”
“I’m not cold, Mum.”
Her answer came out more sharply than she intended.
Lina fell silent for a moment.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” her mother replied.
Silence.
Daniel picked up his glass.
Drank.
Lina took a spoon and began to stir the contents of her cup.
One turn.
Another.
Another.
The clinking against the ceramic filled the little silences in the room.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Until it stopped.
Lina held the spoon still.
Looked to one side.
Daniel followed her gaze.
A napkin lay on the table.
Nothing else.
Lina moved the spoon again.
The napkin slid.
Just a few centimetres across the wood.
Daniel blinked.
Lina stopped moving her hand.
The napkin stopped too.
She looked at it.
Then towards the window.
It was closed.
Daniel did the same.
Nothing.
No draught.
His father was still talking.
“...if they open that area tomorrow, I can go over and...”
The napkin moved again.
Very slightly.
A soft scrape across the wood.
Lina looked at it.
This time Daniel saw her expression change.
It was not surprise.
It was fear.
Daniel slowly put his glass on the table.
“Did you...?”
He did not finish the sentence.
Lina raised her eyes.
For a moment, they looked at each other.
Daniel was about to say something.
She looked away.
Rubbed her arms again.
“I need some air,” she said.
Her mother turned.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ve only just...”
“Just a moment.”
She stood up.
Went out.
The door closed behind her.
No one stopped her.
His father kept talking.
His mother picked up a cup.
Daniel did not listen to either of them.
He looked at the door.
Then the napkin.
It was motionless.
He looked at the window again.
Closed.
Then he remembered.
The hall.
The sheets of paper.
The blanket.
The cup sliding slowly across the metal.
Tap.
Daniel stood up.
“Where are you going?” his mother asked.
“I’ll be right back.”
He went out.
“Lina?”
There was no answer.
He took a few steps.
Outside, the air was different.
A leaf floated past.
Then another.
“Lina?”
This time his voice was quieter.
His sister had her back to him.
Motionless.
“Are you all right?”
Lina did not answer.
Daniel took a step.
A third leaf passed beside his leg.
It did not carry on.
It turned.
Daniel followed it with his eyes.
The leaf traced a half-circle around Lina.
Then another rose from the ground.
And another.
The air began to turn very slowly around her.
First at ground level.
Then around her legs.
Daniel stood still.
The leaves began to follow the movement.
One.
Three.
Five.
He looked around.
Searched for an explanation.
Anything.
The branches of the trees barely moved.
The air kept rising around Lina.
As if wrapping around her.
As if responding to something.
“Lina.”
She lowered her head.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Daniel felt something tighten in his chest.
“Look at me.”
Lina shook her head slightly.
“Lina, look at me.”
Then she turned.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes wide.
She did not look fascinated.
She did not look surprised.
She looked scared.
“Dani...”
She slowly raised her hands.
Palms upwards.
Held apart in front of her body.
She did not seem to know what to do with them.
Or what was happening.
The movement of the air changed.
Daniel heard it before he felt it.
A low, continuous murmur.
The leaves accelerated.
Lina’s hair began to lift.
“Don’t do anything,” Daniel said.
Lina looked at him.
“I’m not doing anything.”
The wind grew stronger.
Daniel took a step back on instinct alone.
Lina saw him.
And that seemed to frighten her even more.
“Dani...”
Daniel stopped.
The leaves spun faster and faster around her.
One passed between them.
Another struck the wall gently.
The wind reached Daniel.
Moved his clothes.
Ruffled his hair.
But around Lina, it was different.
It did not seem simply to blow.
It circled.
Rose from the ground, surrounded her legs, climbed her body and continued above her head.
As if she were the centre.
Daniel looked at the trees.
The branches barely moved.
He looked towards the street.
Nothing.
The wind was there.
Only there.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Lina said.
Her breathing grew faster.
So did the wind.
Daniel noticed.
“Lina.”
“I can’t stop it.”
A flowerpot beside the entrance shook.
Daniel looked at it.
“Lina, look at me.”
“I’m telling you I can’t...”
“Look at me.”
She did.
Daniel kept his eyes fixed on hers.
He tried to make his voice sound calmer than he felt.
“Breathe.”
Lina shook her head.
“How do you expect me to breathe?”
A gust swept through the space between them.
Daniel raised an arm to shield his eyes.
“Well, the way you always do.”
“Daniel...”
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
For a moment, Lina looked at him as if she could not believe it.
Daniel did not know what he was doing either.
He had seen the videos.
He had heard the radio.
He had spent hours trying to understand things that made no sense.
But none of them had prepared him for this.
Lina closed her eyes.
Tried to breathe.
Once.
The air kept circling.
Again.
The leaves kept spinning.
Daniel did not look away.
“That’s it.”
Lina opened her eyes.
“It isn’t working.”
“I know.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
At any other time, perhaps he would have smiled.
He did not.
The wind grew stronger again.
A gust pushed Daniel backwards.
This time he had to move a foot to keep his balance.
Lina saw him.
“Go inside.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“Go inside the house.”
“No.”
“Dani.”
“No.”
“What if I hurt you?”
The question silenced him.
Lina looked at her own hands.
Lowered them quickly.
Nothing changed.
The wind continued.
She raised them again.
Nothing.
Clenched her fists.
Nothing.
“I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Daniel watched the leaves.
Lina’s hair.
The air moving around her.
He remembered the videos from the hall.
The man with fire around his hands.
The water climbing a wall.
The darkness spreading across the ground.
The woman surrounded by light.
The discharge jumping between that boy’s fingers.
Until then, they had all been strangers.
Images on a screen.
They could be fake.
They could have an explanation.
They could be happening on the other side of the world.
This could not.
Daniel took a step towards Lina.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming closer.”
“No.”
Daniel took another.
“Daniel, stop.”
He stopped.
Not because she had asked him to.
A gust had just passed in front of him with enough force to make him close his eyes.
When he opened them again, Lina was still there.
In the centre.
Unharmed.
The wind was not striking her.
It was not making her retreat.
It did not even seem to push her.
Her clothes and hair stirred, but her body remained steady.
As if the air knew exactly where she was.
Daniel felt a chill.
“Lina...”
She looked at him.
“What?”
Daniel did not answer.
He did not know how to say it.
He did not even know what he was seeing.
A leaf rose in front of Lina.
Climbed slowly.
Spun once.
Then again.
Lina watched it.
The leaf hung suspended for a moment.
Lina stopped breathing.
So did Daniel.
Then it fell.
The wind eased.
Just a little.
Lina looked at her hands.
“Did I do that?”
Daniel took a while to answer.
He could lie to her.
Say he did not know.
Say perhaps it had been a draught.
The same things he had been trying to tell himself since the hall.
He looked at the motionless trees.
The leaves circling his sister.
The closed window behind them.
There was no easy explanation any more.
“I don’t know.”
It was all he could tell her.
Lina looked up.
“You saw it too.”
Daniel did not answer.
There was no need.
The fear on Lina’s face changed.
It did not disappear.
It became more real.
Because it was no longer something only she was feeling.
Daniel could see it too.
A voice came from inside the house.
“Daniel?”
His mother.
They both looked towards the door.
“Lina?”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
Daniel looked back at her.
“What?”
“Don’t tell them anything.”
“Lina...”
“Please.”
The door was still closed.
Daniel looked towards it.
Then towards his sister.
Another gust lifted the leaves.
Lina gritted her teeth.
“I don’t want them to see me like this.”
Daniel stood motionless.
His mother called again from inside.
“Are you both all right?”
Daniel looked at Lina.
“Yes,” he finally answered. “We’ll be right in.”
Silence.
Footsteps retreated on the other side of the door.
Lina let out a breath.
“Thank you.”
Daniel did not answer.
He was still not sure he had done the right thing.
The wind kept circling.
Less violently.
But it was still there.
Lina looked at her hands again.
“What’s happening to me?”
Daniel thought of everything he had seen since the Fall.
The sky.
The creature among the rubble.
That impossible moment before it reached him.
The patient in the corridor.
The videos.
People in different cities.
Different phenomena.
And now Lina.
His sister.
“I don’t know.”
Lina looked up.
Daniel moved a little closer.
This time she did not ask him to stop.
A leaf passed beside Daniel’s face.
Then another.
He felt the wind.
It was real.
Not a recording.
Not a rumour.
Not someone on the other side of the world.
Lina.
The air began to circle more strongly again.
From her feet.
Around her legs.
Climbing her body.
Lina’s hair lifted.
The leaves rose again.
One.
Three.
Five.
Ten.
Daniel stopped counting them.
Lina slowly raised her hands, palms upwards.
She did not seem to know what to do with them.
Or what was happening.
She looked at Daniel.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes wide.
“Dani...”
Nothing more.
The wind grew stronger.
It circled her body from her feet to above her head.
But it did not strike her.
It did not make her retreat.
It did not seem to hurt her.
Daniel did not move.
He had seen the videos.
He had heard the radio.
He had seen something impossible in that corridor.
He had spent hours looking for explanations.
But this was different.
It was not a video.
It was not a rumour.
It was not someone on the other side of the world.
It was Lina.
His sister.
And it was happening right in front of him.
CUT TO BLACK.