Ellamae had a whole childhood of fabricated memories, but her absolute favourites always involved the soft clinking of shells. It was a sound Ellamae associated with warmth, safety, and a mischievous smile that stretched as wide as her whole body.
‘Clink, clink, clink,’ the shells would sing with every shift of the creature. It was the sound Ellamae would fall asleep to every night, and the one that accompanied a soft voice when she woke.
‘It’s time to wake up, little flame,’ the old voice would say. ‘Wake up.’
“Wake up.”
If she opened her eyes, would she see seaweed-green skin, and the kind smile with teeth as big as her longest finger?
“Wake up! Ms. Holt, you have to wake up!”
As her lids fluttered open, the world that smelt like lavender, moss, and honey burnt away from her mind; revealing a scene of twisted metal and billowing smoke.
Gradually, she became aware of someone shaking her, pulling her out of the daze. Fionntan was staring down at her with a concerned gaze. A thin gash marred his brow, where blood mingled with the dust of the chaos.
“Get up!” Fionntan said, “We need to move!”
Smoke enveloped them, acrid and suffocating. Twisted metal formed an eerie labyrinth. The impact tore seats from their moorings and scattered them haphazardly across the floor.
Flames hungrily licked under the crushed remains of the door; black already charring the wood. They were trapped in an oven.
The reality of the situation flooded back, and with a sudden surge, she pushed herself upright.
“Can you stand?” he asked urgently. “Are you hurt?”
“I—I can move.”
As Ellamae regained her bearings, Fionntan left her side and wielded his cane as a makeshift battering ram against the window glass. Cracks spread like veins across the surface like spiderwebs.
‘Bang, bang, bang,’ his desperate hits sounded.
A curious unease gnawed at her.
As she stood, an unsettling realization came over her. Sweat was dripping from Fionntan’s brow, yet it had not even crossed her mind that the temperature could be uncomfortable.
‘You know what the problem is,’ her mind taunted. ‘Do you even feel the sting of smoke in your lungs and eyes?’
Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe Fionntan was more sensitive, and she was just lucky.
Each strike of his cane against the window seemed to require immense effort. With a final blow, Fionntan shattered the window, creating an escape route amidst the chaos. “Ms. Holt! Now!” he rasped between coughs.
Ellamae propelled herself through the shattered opening, landing amidst a scene of equal chaos. Screams and groans filled the air as passengers stumbled amidst the wreckage.
Screams and groans of passengers surrounded. Some stumbled aimlessly upon the uneven terrain, their expressions dazed, as if they were sleepwalking.
Above them, the rail was severed like a snapped twig. Trees that had helped slow the fall of the train were amongst the scattered wreckage.
“What happened?” she asked Fionntan, but his wide-eyed gaze offered no answers.
Suddenly, a horrible screech sounded from above. They heard a horrible screech as the heavy rail detached from the structure above.
Below, a man struggled to rise from the ground, his movements strained. His expensive black frock coat and polished boots were now coated in dust, a dark gash marring his pant leg.
Fionntan reached out a hand, and the movement connected his shadow to the one cast by the wreckage beside the man. That shadow morphed into a large hand that wrapped around the man’s leg. As Fionntan yanked his arm back, the man let out a yelp as the shadow pulled him along the ground.
The impact from the falling structure sent a shockwave rippling through the air, debris raining down around them. The man lay sprawled on the ground, saved from death by mere inches.
Fionntan looked between her and the man, hesitating. Finally deciding, he pointed at the spot beside him. “Ms. Holt, you are to stay close. If you are more than an arm’s reach away, you are too far. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Fionntan rushed forward to aid the man. He removed his tie from around his neck and used it to help stop the bleeding on the leg.
Her legs felt itchy; urging her to move or do anything.
A sharp pop pierced the air, sending a shiver of dread down Ellamae’s spine. Slowly, she turned to face the source of the sound, her worst fears confirmed.
“Mr. Ward,” Ellamae began, her voice trembling with urgency.
“Not now!” Fionntan snapped, focused on tying off the makeshift bandage.
“Mr. Ward!”
“What?!”
“We need to move,” Ellamae stated, her voice tinged with urgency as she pointed toward the spreading flames.
The fire from the train had caught on the trees and brush.
They were standing within what was about to be a raging wildfire.
Fionntan swore under his breath as he hoisted the injured man to his feet, ignoring the man’s screams of protest. Then he hesitated, his eyes scanning the surrounding people with growing panic.
There were too many injured, too many trapped beneath the rubble. Fionntan couldn’t save them all. If he tried, he risked succumbing to the flames himself. Time was running out, and they needed to act quickly.
Cupping her hands around her mouth, Ellamae screamed out, “The fire is spreading! If you can move, then move!”
Her words sparked a frantic scramble as people scattered in all directions, desperate to escape the advancing fire.
Fionntan turned to Ellamae, his expression unreadable. “That’s the best we can do,” she said, meeting his gaze with determination.
With a curt nod, Fionntan agreed. “Yes…you’re right. Stick close and let’s move.”
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