Pain. Pain. Pain.
I can’t scream. I can hardly even breathe. It’s not the volcanic ash and gases that are killing me, but something much bigger. A tidal wave of agony swallowing me and everything else in its path. I’m burning and choking, begging death to move faster.
And finally, everything stops.
“I’ve got you. Just keep breathing. That’s all you need to do. Keep breathing, Briar.”
I’m wet. My throat burns. I try to crack my eyelids open, but I don’t have enough strength. There’s something covering my mouth, but I can’t lift my hand to move it.
All I can manage is a short hum.
“Briar, can you hear me?” It’s Amira, and she’s crying. “Are you okay?”
I try to talk, but all I can manage is another hum.
“She’s waking up!” Amira says.
“Want me to take her?”
That voice is a man. Niran, I think.
“Yeah. My arms are about to fall off.”
Water splashes my face, my eyes finally opening. Niran’s taking me from Amira, holding me over-the-threshold style.
“Welcome back,” he says. “You’re officially a volcano survivor. The prize is pretty shitty, though.”
It’s nighttime, and we’re in water. The ocean, I think, as water laps lightly against my arms and legs.
I’m hollowed out. Exhausted. But I have to wake up and help evacuate camp. We have young children and people with mobility issues. I can’t let them get left behind.
“What’s happening?” My voice is a croak I don’t recognize.
“Just rest,” Niran says. “You’re okay.”
“No,” I manage.
“She wants to know,” Amria says softly. “Briar, you were unconscious. We covered your face with your wet T-shirt to help you breathe. Niran carried you to the beach we evacuated to. It’s been a few hours since the volcano erupted.”
“No.” It’s a helpless whimper because I don’t want to believe I failed everyone.
Not only did I not help anyone evacuate, but Niran had to carry me instead of saving someone else.
The roar I felt earlier is quiet now. There’s just a dull, flat sense of melancholy.
“They’re gone,” I whisper, my throat tightening.
“Who’s gone?” Amira asks.
It’s so much quieter now. Not silent, but the absence is staggering. They lost so many, both young and ancient.
“Plants. Trees. So much destruction.”
“You felt it, didn’t you?” Amira asks softly.
“I was dying.”
“You just felt like it because they were.”
