There is screaming and where do you run? There is screaming and fire and dying, and where do you run? There is screaming and fire and dying, and the air is dark with soot and stinks of burning flesh, and where do you run?

Callum throws himself to the ground as a gas tank explodes, sending molten fragments high in the air. All around him he can hear the sickly hiss of spilt blood boiling, and then it’s quiet, so quiet, because another tank blew, this one closer, and he thinks maybe the concussion ruptured his eardrums, because people are screaming, he can feel them screaming, see them screaming, but everything’s so quiet, so perfectly quite, and there goes another tank.

He thinks that was an arm that just flew past him, but he isn’t about to investigate.

He can feel blood trickling down the sides of his face, and definitely his eardrums were ruptured, because he’s screaming, and there’s no sound.

The dirt is hot, too hot, and his hands are blistering and his face is blistering, but flames are arcing around him, dancing, spitting, and another, the fourth and final, gas tank blows. Someone runs in front of him, covered in fire, and they stumble, stumble and fall, and die. He tries to breathe, but all that’s left is smoke and ash, and he chokes, coughs, and if he doesn’t move now, he’s going to suffocate to death.

His nails scrabble against the ground as he struggles to push himself up, and god, it just got a hundred times hotter. Callum staggers, and inhales, and chokes again. If he doesn’t run, he’s going to faint, and he won’t wake up again. So he covers his mouth with a filthy, grimy, bloody hand, and he ducks his head, and he sees a gap in the flames, and he bolts, heart heaving in his chest, and it burns.

He screams and doesn’t hear it, and then he’s through the worst of it. He can see clear air only a hundred yards away, but his head is spinning. He lurches on, and suddenly, there’s a hand at his elbow, pulling him, and he lets it. He thinks he might be crying, but the heat from the fire is drying any tears faster than they can fall, and he’s almost there, almost there.

He trips, and falls, but that same hand catches him, keeps him on his feet, and if has to run any further he’s going to die. And then there are more hands, hands as black from soot as his are, and they’re grasping for him, holding him, and pouring something down his throat, and he’s gasping and coughing and it’s awful.

And then he vomits, and it’s all smoke and ash and bile and he feels better, just a little better, and someone’s pressing an oxygen mask to his face and he breathes, just breathes.

Previous: Scene 4-X

Scene 4-XI

Next: Scene 4-XII