Kanto in Flames: Chapter 0 - Origins

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Kanto in Flames: Chapter 0 - Origin
by ~TheLostOracle

What happened?

I cough thickly, ash and bile mixing into a choking paste in my throat. My nose and eyes are streaming freely, and I can barely breathe. Something nearby collapses with a pitiful crash, and I am showered in hot cinders that stick to my clothing and burn my flesh. It is too dangerous to stay here, but I can barely open my eyes.

Weak and blind, I crawl forward. Broken glass cuts mercilessly at my hands and knees. Ash worms its way into the gashes, itching and burning. As I move, the ash swirls into the air I'm trying to breathe. I cough continuously, my throat so raw and painful I'm sure it is torn and bleeding.  I want to quit and rest so badly, but I don't dare stop here. Smoke hangs thickly in the air, evidence of more fires burning nearby. I force myself to keep crawling, keep breathing, keep hoping. There has to be more to the world than fire and ash.

A tortured sound manages to pierce the ringing in my ears. I am drawn toward it, drawn to the one shred of evidence that something else alive exists in this place of darkness. I keep crawling, but I find my strength returning bit by bit, and I finally manage to open my eyes. The world is a swirl of black, red, and orange. Flames dance in the distance, jovially consuming everything in their path. I am well behind the flames now, lost in a hazy ocean of smoke and destruction. I stop to listen, praying for that sound to come again. For just a moment, it had given me purpose and direction in this hellish place.

My patience is rewarded. Another moan, faint but distinctly alive, floats through the haze. I cannot see the source; only the remains of a structure, collapsed and charred black. A reckless courage seizes me. I would rather be killed and buried in the rubble than lose this gossamer thread of hope I have found to cling to. I approach the structure, still crawling. It might have been a house once, but now I cannot even discern its original shape or size. The moan comes again, more urgently this time. I pull myself to my feet using the blackened and twisted remains of a downed tree. Perhaps it was too green to burn. Or maybe the fire swept through so quickly it didn't have time to catch properly.

Gravel crunches under my feet as I move forward, evidence of an old road or walking path. It is buried under so much ash that I can't even see it. When my path parts from the tree, I sway unsteadily and my head spins. The smoke is more dense at this level, and it fills my nose, choking me. I find myself on the ground, with no memory of falling, but my left shoulder and the side of my head hurt even more now. I crawl again, feeling the ground change from gravel to dirt to concrete. I'm close now. Most of the structure has been demolished, but one part – perhaps a garage? – seems to have escaped relatively intact. Most of the roof has fallen in, one corner has collapsed, and the walls stand at an unnerving angle, but they still stand.

I move to a hole in the wall. It is blocked by a pile of cracked and splintered two by fours, and I don't dare try to shift them for fear that the whole building will come down on top of me. Slowly, I pick my way around the structure. Wires and pipes lay jagged and broken under the ash. I receive a long, deep laceration on my right shin as I crawl, and it is immediately filled up with ash. It burns so badly it seems the fire has caught under my skin and brings new tears to my eyes, but I can't stop to cry. If I stop, I will die here.

Alone.

"Hello?" I croak weakly. It is all I can manage. My voice sounds shrill and muffled in my own ears. It is as if the living have no right to speak here, and the very air rebels at the sound of my voice. This is a place of death.

Something hears me though. A frantic scratching and scuffling comes from within, and then a whine of frustration. I release a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Something else is truly alive here. I am not completely alone. Not yet. Before long, I find another opening. It might have been a window, but now it rests askew, just above the ground. The way is mostly clear, so I try to crawl in, but my hand comes down on a shard of glass hidden in the ash. I cry out, a pathetic, wheezing sound, and recoil. A rough triangle of glass is embedded in my palm.

As I pull the shard out with my other hand, the glass catches the light of the flames. Reddened by my blood, the light dances merrily in the glass. It is strangely beautiful. I can't tear my eyes away. The sight relaxes me. What I wouldn't give to simply sit, or perhaps lie down, and do nothing more strenuous than watch the flames. So pretty....

A booming bark startles me back to consciousness. Entranced by the flickering light, I had started to doze. As far as I can tell, it has only been a few seconds, but the lapse awakens me to the danger I face. Falling asleep here would mean death. I force myself to move, pushing myself back up to my hands and knees. My right arm buckles as pain races through my hand and wrist, but I manage to force myself up anyway. It registers somewhere in the back of my mind that what I'm doing is stupid, suicidal even. I'm not even fit to walk, and here I am trying to rescue some dog from a collapsed building. Still, as I kneel in the ash, listening to it whine and moan, I can't bring myself to abandon it. I could just as easily be the one trapped in there. For all I know, it might even be my dog.

No, I decide. I refuse to leave you behind. I won't leave you alone to die.

I am ready for the glass this time. I fish around in the ash for a stick, and sweep the ash and broken glass away from the window. When, as far as I can tell, the ground is reasonably clear of glass, I crawl through the small opening. Inside the structure is dark and hot. The smoke hangs so thick I can barely see. Small flames still flicker here and there, glowing like candles in the gloom. Their light extends only a few feet before diffusing completely into the smoke, giving the impression of suspended globes of orange light. "H– Here I am," I say, coughing on the smoke.

The dog whines again, and I hear it struggling frantically. I can't see it through the smoke, but I can hear it thrashing around. I follow the sound, squeezing between the beams from the caved in roof, and skirting around the flames. Finally, near the collapsed corner, I spot the dog. When the roof caved in, it must have nearly buried the dog in debris. The dog claws frantically at a hole just too small for it to wriggle through.

"Take it easy." I try to speak calmly, but my rasping throat just doesn't have the strength to do any tone other than pathetic and sickly. "I'll get you out of there. Somehow."

The big problem is, the way the roof and walls are sagging, it looks like the whole place might come down if I move anything. However, I already made up my mind to try, so I move around the debris, poking and prodding, looking for something loose. Down by the floor near one of the walls, I find a few loose boards. They are hopelessly tangled, and I can't possibly hope to pull them free, but I think I might be able to pry them just far enough apart for the dog to squeeze through.

I get back down on the floor. The air is cleaner here, but not by much. I take a few deep breaths to try to clear my head. "Listen up, pup," I say. "I'm going to lift up those boards over there. See if you can squeeze through, ok?"

The dog barks loudly, as if it understands, and stops clawing at the beams. I have no idea if it actually comprehends what I said, but I have to try all the same. Before I stand up again, I take a few more breaths of the relatively clean air to sustain me. It doesn't do much to bolster my strength, but it will have to do. Using the pile of fallen and broken beams, I manage to leverage myself back to my feet. The room starts spinning again, and I know I don't have long before the ambient smoke drives me back to my knees. Before I have time to even think about giving up, I put my shoulder to one of the two by fours, take a good grip with both hands, and heave. My right hand complains angrily, and a fresh spurt of blood trickles down my fingers. Spots break out in my vision, and my head swims. My body just isn't ready for this kind of abuse, and I have only lifted far enough to make a gap that nothing larger than a small cat would fit through.

Just as I am about to concede defeat, I hear the dog whine. The tip of an ash-covered snout peeks through the small opening I have created. If I drop the pile, it will crash down on the dog's head, maiming it, and perhaps even killing it. I inhale deeply, steeling myself for one final effort. The smoke makes me cough, and I tilt forward, nearly falling. I can't breathe anymore, I can't even see. With one final wrenching heave, I manage to lift the beams another few inches.

The dog forces its way into the gap, clawing at the floor and the beams with its front paws, kicking feverishly with the back, doing anything and everything it can possibly do to wiggle through. Part of what little roof remains sags suddenly. Something hits me in the side. Blinding pain explodes in my head, and I see a bright white flash. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth. My body finally rebels completely, and I fall, heavy coughing tearing at my lungs and throat. The pile of beams collapses, and I am sure I am about to die. The whole building is coming down around me. More hot cinders fall on my exposed arms, my neck, my face. Something pulls at my neck, choking me. The world dissolves into a dark, sepia-toned hell of noise and pain.

Suddenly, the noise stops. I still ache, and my lungs are burning, so I know I am still alive. It's a small comfort. My hands claw at my eyes, trying to tear out the smoke, ash, charcoal, and wood dust while I retch uncontrollably. Between bouts of retching, after I have emptied the contents of my stomach, I manage to breathe. The air is better here, but still reeks of smoke and burning. Several minutes pass while my body rages against the toxins I have been breathing for far too long, and for most of that time, I am convinced I am about to die.

Slowly though, my breathing eases, my stomach stops convulsing, and my eyes clear. Something rough and wet touches the side of my face. I recoil instinctively, rolling away, but I don't have the strength to go far. I wind up on my back, staring up at the billowing clouds of smoke against a blood-red sky. The rough, wet something attacks my hand now, wiping away the blood and ash from the gash in my palm. It eventually occurs to my overwhelmed brain that the rough, wet thing is probably the dog's tongue.
That's good, I think. That means it got out ok.

But how did it get out of there? How did I? I remember the pull against my neck. Something had dragged me out of the structure by the collar of my shirt. Someone rescued me.

"Hello?" I gasp. "Is anyone there?"

Silence.

The dog starts licking my face now, but not randomly. It's almost as if it is trying to deliberately clean away all the soot, ash, and blood.

"Did you save me?" I ask.

The dog barks happily. I hear its tail swishing back and forth in the ashes on the ground.

"Thanks. I guess that makes us even."

As I lie there, exhausted and aching, I feel as if a golden ray of sunlight has pierced the clouds of smoke. I still don't know where I am or how I got there – I can't even remember my own name– but there is one thing I know.

I am no longer alone.

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End of Chapter 0

These chapters will have slightly erratic times of release. More information is posted on my deviantart account listed at the top of this work. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!