Starts with a Match

Get to Later

It takes me ten seconds to roll out the flames that I'm drowning in, and that's ten seconds too many.

By the time I'm staggering to my feet, I've vomited twice, from pain, and from when I turned and saw bits of Elijah on the ground.

Even the gentle, humid breeze tracing over my destroyed back is too fucking agonizing.

I raise a hand to my neck, above my torn collar, feel it flaking and wet. Other hand to my belt, see just how far down the fire went. Welts, blood, tendons, muscle. Whole back, whole of me, burned to shit. Least it didn't go past my hips.

Whole of Elijah just...

Forest is ablaze.

This wasn't a regular bomb. Not like Sochi.

This was a cherry pit. Meant to crater. Twice the size, at least.

Usually see these kinds go off from a chopper. Or from ten stories up in a building, watching the chaos through my sniper scope or a window.

Being in it is a whole 'nother thing.

Lick my lips, coated in sick and blood from my busted nose. I take in a breath and throw up again. It's corpse and fire and burnt flesh and our stupid scientific concoction of cherry blood.

Thought my sense of smell was bad before. This is hell.

Shouldn't be alive. I'm crying.

Won't be alive much longer if I don't get medical attention. Think, man, c'mon, keep cool, calm, listen, don't focus on just the smell, what am I seeing.

Ears are still ringing, yet I pick up oncoming PCs.

I got no weapon but the bowie knife at my hip. We were close enough to the tent and truck that it got blown to hell, too. All other means of defense destroyed.

I'm coated in the shit we use to draw in the PCs. Walking target.

First three steps have me screaming. Think fire got to the backs of my thighs after all, shaky fingers tell me there are holes in my pants above the backs of my knees.

Next three steps and I get to what looks like torso, and I crouch and grab Elijah's tags. No sign of his Beanie Baby. I pat my leg, feel the lumpy form of Scorch still safe in my front pocket. Priorities, Kevin, we gotta move.

After that I'm running for green, cause other side of green base is the bridge to red. I just gotta keep moving the opposite direction of the PCs.

I think I'm good, until I hear them in front of me. At my sides. Rushing my six.

Claire, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.

I unsheathe my knife and put it between my teeth just to bite down on something so I don't chomp off my own damn tongue. I duck under branches on fire, swerve around tree trunks on fire. Every step is more fire, shooting up my spine to my head.

Cry about it later. Make it to later. Warn Jim about green. Get Elijah's tags mailed to his dad. Write the letter to his dad.

Write a letter to Toby.

That's right. Toby Fritz. They're waiting on me to reply about the soup. Fucking soup. Gotta reply.

My steps speed up. I take the knife from my teeth and jam it into the eye of the first PC that appears at my right side.

Gotta reply about the soup. Gotta get to later.