Fire begins to rip through the houses on the edge of the forest. Ambrose, Eva, and Audrey huffs, letting the wind blow them, tripping over their shoes as they hurdle through the streets, as far away from the forest as they can get. Cars clog the streets, police officers barking out orders. Fire catches, jumping onto the dry lawns and ripping through telephone poles that crash into the middle of the street.
Coughing, Leo and Nico pull themselves through the streets, hurrying in the direction all of the cars are headed as best as they can. Leo cannot jog independently, but he does his best while glued to Nico's side. They are closer to the edge of town, closer to salvation.
Forget their convictions, Barry is running. They hold Lydia's hand while she leads them, navigating the streets where she grew up for them. Smoke clogs the air, and he can hear her wheezing as she hurries.
The mask is useless. Clare still gives it to Kaia, in case it somehow does help. As they hurry, there are fewer cars honking, bumper to bumper as fire catches. Clare expects a helicopter with a water tank to dump over the fire. They try to listen for one since time is passing. It must be the witching hour now. Nothing comes, even as the streets start to empty out.
Fallon has to dodge the sidewalks. Where she is, there are more people without cars, racing on bikes and skateboards and tripping over their own feet. Buses roll by, completely packed with people. One stops for her, but she brushes it away. She could use a jog, and Fallon worries one of her neighbours will recognize her as a dead girl. Fallon has already broken Corrin's heart once tonight.
Shaking, Ajay and Este dodge the police. Jayce as well, who Este sees once on the street and leads Ajay down a different path. Together, they almost certainly could kill him with combined efforts. Este is done wasting her time. Ajay is still shaking, still burning up. He manages to run though.
Slowly, they begin to combine. Fallon sees Ambrose, Eva, and Audrey first and belines for them. Ajay and Este catch Clare and Kaia. Then everyone converges on a street heading out of town, careful to run through the grass as cars whizz by, too fast for city limits but heading out just beyond it.
Branches crack, the group speeds up as a tree collapses behind them, choking the road. People in cars begin to scream. Doors slam open and shut, people bolting on foot. Leo turns around, ready to help, but already cars are turning around. The trees overhead are ablaze, puff of smoke clouding the sky, bright like honey, like molten heat. Leo's skin is tight, the burns itchy. Just past the edge of town the trees break and there is a stretch of open road.
Ambrose has been here before. He doesn't feel like he's dying again when he sees the town sign. Leaving Chelster, finally.
"Wait," Audrey looks at the sign, furrowing their brow.
Barry doesn't stop. They bolt over the town line.
"Barry!" Lydia screams.
They stop. All heads turn to look at Barry, semi-translucent, just over the edge of town. Barry yelps, leaping back into town. The colour returns to him, the solidness of his body.
"What happens when we cross?" Ajay shouts over the roaring air rushing through the trees. Fire ignites both sides of them.
Barry looks at Lydia. She doesn't answer either. Instead, she pinches the flesh of her pinkie finger with her other hand, feeling herself still. When she crossed, the sleeve collapsed around her. There was nothing there.
So, Barry and Lydia do not try to answer. No one knows.
They can't be sure that it is nothing which awaits them. Death was empty, stolen moments in retrospect. Crossing the line might make them nothing, might make them have never been anything at all. Maybe it will send them back to the moments of their deaths. If they are homunculi, they might go back to the dirt. Maybe their souls will be destroyed, or maybe they will be fully intangible souls wandering this earth, or maybe they will finally be at rest, reaching the horizon.

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Ficción GeneralIn which they are alive when they shouldn't be. "Their harmonies at sermons on Sundays, the prayers of old women whose children work in the oil sands, the cries of widowers at funerals, the laughter of children at weddings. It all is still in the wa...