THE COLOURS IN THE AIR --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The storm broke simultaneously all across the sky. It was as
if some kind of charge had built up to bursting point. Lines of
colour sluiced down towards the ground.
There were shouts of warning and cries of dismay. The members
of Group Nine and the 'special tools' group held their hands up
over their heads.
It wasn't rain and it wasn't lightning. It was colour -- slanting
vertical lines of colour. It was like watching the air open up
in thin seams, unzipping all the way from the sky to the ground.
And in the seams -- strange lurid colours, coiling shapes of blood-red,
purple, yellowy-green. But only for a moment: then the seams sealed
over again.
At first there were just a few, then dozens, then hundreds. More
and more colours, pouring down out of the sky. Now bluey-blacks
appeared, and mottled browns, and greys streaked with white. An
infinite variety of colours -- but always lurid, glistening, somehow
disgusting. It was like looking into the depths of a wound, like
a momentary glimpse of entrails . . .
The men and women in the workers' dormitory area ducked and jumped
and jinked as though being shot at. Many ran for the walls, flattening
themselves into corners, crouching and cowering. But the walls
offered little protection when the lines of colour came slanting
down in different directions.
More and more colours: violet, orange and rust, livid lime green.
People yelled and shrieked with horror as the colours touched
them.
"Aghhh!"
"Watch out!"
"I can't --"
"No!"
Beano jinked and jumped like everyone else. Even Jaralax was
hopping from side to side. Only ev Ghair didn't move. His white
hair blew in the wind like an aureole round his head.
"Stay calm!" he thundered.
