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“Son of a bitch,” I grit out, the open wound burning.
“Evan, move!” It’s a shout seconds before another substantial portion of wall falls. My head turns, and the movement causes a sharp pain to cross my temples. It throbs, and my vision is a bit hazy. However, I still catch the moment he’s knocked unconscious and his leg is pinned beneath the debris. “We need to get him and get the fuck out. Everyone, lift up on the count of three.”
I stand to help and wobble, and more blood pours. Take three steps, and my knees wobble.
Someone grabs my arm and I look over; it’s another EMT, and there’s concern on his face. “Get to the car, Nick. You’re injured and can’t—” Another explosion, larger this time, and from the peak we see a bit of lava roll down the side.
“Three!” The others work together, and Evan is carried between three men. They’re rushing, while I try to gather my bearings. Time slows around me, and I try to take another step on my own.
My foot slips on some gravel, and I’m pulled up by the arm—held up as we make our way down to the car. The sky slowly begins to rain soot, and breathing is bothersome. We’re coughing, dirty, and now wearing my blood. Evan is in the bed of a truck while I manage to crawl into the car.
I’m losing a battle with my consciousness; my eyes are heavy and body coiling in pain.
Everything around me blurs as we rush back to the hospital and away from the disaster. Everything dims except one thought:
My Mila.
How much I love her. Miss her. My promise to always come back to her.
