Rise From the Ashes

Chapter Two: The Girl With the Sunny-Blonde Hair

(NARRATED BY TRAVIS GUILDER)

It began with a nightmare.

"Travis, come on! We have to get moving!" The stranger kneeling over me tugged at my limp shoulders. My head was reeling, my throat and lungs stung, and my clothes were soaking wet. I slowly looked up to identify the stranger, but my vision was blurred.

"W-Wha... Wha hap—" I couldn't get the words out because of the pain. My chest and a few other spots felt as though they were on fire. With seemingly all the strength I could muster, I brought my trembling hand to the throbbing pain below my rib cage. It felt warm and slick....

The stranger gasped silently, "Oh no... you're more hurt than I thought." Subtly, yet audibly enough, he wept as he anxiously wrapped fabric around the wound. "I'm going to get you help," he promised. "Hang in there, okay?" With that, the boy hoisted me over his shoulder and promptly made a run for it. Bullets and shrapnel zipped by in every direction as gunfire and other explosions sounded off nearby, but he never gave up or faltered. The stranger kept pressing on. And yet, even with all the luck and determination in the world, an explosive managed to impact the ground near us and sent me flying.

"Sorry about that," the boy apologized, scooping me back up. "This would be so much easier if I could use my powers!"

Even if I could, I had no time to respond, for the boy immediately started running again.

After a while, I heard another voice speak up: "Hurry up and get him inside! We need to get out of here!"

"You saved my life once," the stranger muttered as he laid me down on a stretcher, "now I'm returning the favor." I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't really care. At this point, the only thought occupying my brain was that I desperately wanted to live, yet I could do nothing about it. Assuming I managed to survive my wounds, the anxiety alone had the potential to do me in.

"We're good to go!" a man shouted. Someone shut the back doors and the vehicle lurched forward. I could hear the boy at my side, weeping silently.

A gunshot rang out.

"He's been hit!"

Suddenly, the vehicle began to veer slightly. I heard the boy spring into action while the medic remained beside me.

"Do you still have a pulse on him?" the boy asked.

Before the medic could answer, a high-pitched noise erupted.

"He's dying fast!" cried the medic.

I had so many questions.

"Then do something!" shouted the boy.

I was slipping away....

The medic's voice started to say something else when darkness overcame me. Everything faded to black. Not one sound could be heard, not one thing could be seen. The only thing I could sense was my own conscience, yet the voice of another spoke to me in my mind:

"The last of my power, I sacrifice for you. Hail and farewell, Chosen Hero... Live on!"

A bright, fiery light overcame the darkness, and that was when I finally realized...

None of this is real.

* * *

When I woke, I no longer lay on a stretcher. Instead, I was in my own bed.

"Just a dream," I muttered, thoroughly relieved. My digital alarm clock was ringing, so I arched over and shut the stupid thing off.

I wished I could just lie back down and pass out for a few more hours, but I had chores to do. Plus, Elli Craydell and I had talked about going to our tree house in the nearby forest that day. Elli was a girl about my age, roughly six months younger than I. She had beautiful, luminescent eyes that shone sapphire and short, brunette hair that fell inches above her shoulders.