Free Cumulus by Eliot Peper

have impressed the original creator of Tetris. She could sell shots of it to house-porn and interior design sites for full-screen spreads.
    The sharp smells of ginger and mint wafted through the air. The woman was at the counter facing the window. She was grinding something. The muscles on her thin shoulders and the outline of a green sports bra were visible through the wet T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
    “How do you know my name?” asked Lilly. Traversing the garden, a thousand thoughts had gone through her head. Relief vibrated within her like a tuning fork. She had thought up half a dozen diplomatic ways to try to find out what was going on, but now that she was here, the words just tumbled out.
    “Do you like rum?” asked the woman, not turning around.
    “Uh, sure,” said Lilly.
    “Good answer.”
    Clinking and stirring sounds came from the countertop, but Lilly’s view was blocked.
    Then she turned and offered a tumbler of dark liquid to Lilly.
    “Does it need anything?” she asked, raising her own glass to her lips.
    Lilly took a small sip. Rum. Ginger. Mint. Sweetness. Spice. Carbonation.
    “It tastes like a party hosted by Caribbean pirates in a secret cave hideout,” said Lilly. The warmth of the alcohol calmed her frayed nerves.
    The woman snorted a laugh and raised her eyebrows. “So you’re a poet as well as a photographer.”
    Lilly set her glass down on the center island. The only other thing on the granite surface was a pen resting on a single sheet of paper. It was too far away to read whatever was written on it, but Lilly could see that the paper itself was thick, cream-colored, and handmade. The grain of the woven pulp gave it weight and texture. It was the kind of thing you’d find in an art supply boutique.
    “So why did you hop my fence? Looking for a good view of the sunset?”
    For the second time that day, Lilly felt childish. What a ridiculous thing to do. She was acting like a teenager ruled by adolescent impulse. Risking a run-in with Security, for what? A pretty picture? Despite everything, she was glad she had recovered both the camera and the film. Those shots were gold and she knew it. She took a swig of the tropical cocktail.
    “I know how silly it sounds,” she said, swirling the drink around in her glass. “But that’s pretty much it. It was just spontaneous. I had a shitty day and it was something I needed to do.” She shrugged.
    The woman’s eyes locked back onto her, as black and intense as Turkish coffee.
    After a moment, they both looked out the window. The wall of fog had swallowed the bay and the western flats of Berkeley and Oakland. The advancing line charged up the hill toward them, ghostly in the twilight. As they watched, it devoured house after house as it ascended the ridge. Finally, it breached the fence, swept across the garden, and broke over the house. Visibility instantly dropped from kilometers to a few meters. The window was nothing but a blank slate.
    “Come with me,” said the woman. “I want to show you something.”
    Lilly followed her around the island and into a hallway adjacent to the kitchen. A torn blouse lay abandoned on the hardwood floor. The woman opened a door and descended a dark stairway winding down deep below the house.
    Lilly paused at the threshold.

 
     
     
    15
     
     
     
    LILLY STEPPED THROUGH THE DOOR at the base of the stairs, and out into the dark space beyond. Her heart was pounding, and cold sweat had broken out all over her body. She couldn’t see much, but her footsteps echoed on the polished wood. What the hell was this? Had the woman saved her from Security only to imprison her in some twisted torture chamber? The space felt cathedral, not some cramped basement.
    But what was she going to do, just stay upstairs and wait alone in the hallway? Make a dash for the Land Rover? The woman would probably have just withdrawn her pass and had Security pick her up again. No. The only way forward was