The ground cracked beneath David's feet, fissures forming like a spiderweb. The trees swayed wildly, leaves and branches thrashing about in an uncontrolled dance. David's feet sank into the newly formed cracks, sending plumes of ash into the air as he struggled to regain his balance. His dad’s body crumpled against the ground, a cloud of gray dust enveloping him and Grace.

“Dad!”

David tried to move toward them, but the ground trembled, his solid foothold morphing into something unreliable, writhing and shifting like a living thing. 

He couldn’t stay upright. He fell to his knees as the earth split open beside him. His heart raced, and he pushed forward on his hands and knees, the blood pumping hot in his head. The cacophony of screams and crumbling terrain and powdery ash filled all of his senses.

He couldn’t see his dad. Or Grace. Not with the ash everywhere.

“Dad!” He coughed and choked on the word. 

The shaking stopped, and he shoved to his feet. People scrambled in every direction. 

“Dad!” he screamed. “Grace!”

“David!”

He spun to his left, disoriented. Two figures sat in the dust, and he tumbled toward them.

“Dad!” David thrust his arms around his father’s shoulders and clutched him, wanting to cry, wanting to be held and coddled like Grace.

But he couldn’t. 

“David,” his dad breathed out. Grace threw her arms around them both.

The word came out strained, and David backed up. The dust and debris in the air made everything hazy, but he could still make out the trembling of the ground and the tense set of his father's jaw. “What’s wrong?”

 His eyes locked onto his father's pained expression, his face contorted in agony, his hands gripping his leg tightly.

“My leg is broken. And I think I sprained my wrist.”

“Shit,” David breathed.

“Don’t talk that way. Not in front of your sister,” his dad admonished. Quietly. His words laced with pain.

“Sorry,” David said automatically, but his eyes were on his dad’s face, the color leeching from his skin, the sweat glistening on his brow. “Can you stand?”

“The bone broke through the skin.”

Shit, shit, shit! David didn’t say it out loud. His fingers trembled as he shoved his father’s hands away and pushed the pants leg up.

Blood seeped along the leg, and his stomach churned at the gruesome sight. “Okay,” he said, taking short breaths to stave off the nausea, “we can fix this. It’s okay.” He unwrapped the fabric around his face, but his dad’s fingers stopped him.

“Take mine,” he said, tugging at the wrappings shielding his mouth.

He didn’t argue. That would waste time. His whole body shook as he grabbed the cloth and bound it tightly around the bone, fingers becoming slick with blood as he tried to shove it back into the skin. He panted with the effort to keep his focus.

His dad made a noise, a sound between a grunt and a whimper. David didn’t look at him. He tightened the fabric and tied it off, his fingers slipping twice as he worked the knot. Then he pulled the pants leg down and stood up.

“We have to keep going,” he said, and he didn’t recognize the hard, cold tone of his voice. “You can lean on me.”

“All right.”

David got under his father. He swallowed a grunt and stumbled slightly under his dad’s weight before straightening. Grace hovered beside them, far too silent in the face of these tragedies. Was she in shock? What were the signs of that?

“One step at a time,” David breathed. “We can rest later.”

A cracking sound rent the air, and David froze. Before his mind could interpret what the noise meant, screams of terror rang out around them, and people began running, over the cracked ground, past them, shooting up the hills and toward the trees.

“The dam! The dam is breaking!”

The words echoed around him. David's gaze shot upstream. A thunderous roar filled the air, drowning out all other sound. He could see the dam in the distance, shaking and crumbling under the relentless force of the river.

His dad’s voice screamed in his ear, “Move!”

Move. The command put fire in his limbs, and he pushed up the hill, faster. The cracks grew louder and more frequent, like a giant reloading and shooting a rifle. People cried out in fear and desperation. The ground trembled under David's feet, the vibrations thrumming through his entire body. His heart raced, pounding against his chest with each beat, his fingers shaking as he clutched his father's arm. His feet felt unsteady on the shaking ground, and his hands shook as he tried to support his injured father.

His heart dropped into his stomach. They were still too far away to make it to safety before the dam gave way. 

If he could run—he was a sprinter. Fastest eight hundred in the state. 

"Come on, Dad," he urged, straining against the weight of their combined bodies. "We have to go faster."

"I can't," his father gasped, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "I'm slowing you down."

He looked down at his injured father, struggling to keep him upright as they moved. The fear on his face mirrored David's own.

They weren’t going to make it. And his father knew it.

“Take Grace,” he said. “Run.”

“No,” David said, shaking his head, but his father’s hand clawed into his arm. The screams from behind them grew louder, a horrific symphony of terror.

“Go!” his dad screamed. 

Another tremor shook the ground beneath them and David knew they had no choice. If they didn't find shelter soon, they would be swept away by the river or crushed by debris from the collapsing dam.

Grace stood frozen, curls matted with ash, her small frame shaking. 

His father released him. “Save her.” It was not a request. It was a command born of love, a father's final order.

"Love you, Dad," David choked out.

And then he scooped Grace up in his arms and ran harder than he ever had.