Green Green Grass.

C1: Apocalypse

Station X - New York City. U.S.A

June 2489 - 127 years, 4 months and 9 days since the Calling.

It was the scent that woke me.
The thick odor of melting rubber flooding my nose. A strong, acrid smell that made me want to stop breathing all together.

I shot up and out of the bed that lay to the side of my small, tin-can like room. Quickly opening the Door that seperated me from the hallway and began running towards where the smell was coming from. My bare footsteps echoing against the cold metal below my feet. We had gotten to used to this, to waking up in the middle of the night. Frantically trying to put out the fires before they spread.

The problem with relying so heavily on technology to survive is when it starts to break down a cup of water can't put out the flames that threatened to consume all that stands around you.

"It's the filtration system" a strong female voice is heard loudly over the crackling fire. As I turned into the main hall, I was met with so many familiar faces, faces I had grown up next to. Natalie turned toward me.

"Daniel, grab that towel!" She shouted, pointing in the general direction of the object she needed.
I turned back to my right where her finger lined up with and saw the oil stained, torn grey towel laying a top a steel table. I grabbed it with urgency, rushing my way towards her.
Natalie grabbed one end of the towel and I kept ahold of the other. Together we lay it over the filtration system. A large, tall box with fans wiring. The sound of people rushing around to find anything capable of covering the fire mixing with the loud, echoey beeps from the machine itself. Each sharp ring of the machines screams sending a devastating thud into the top of my head.

We both desperately slapped our hands down over the towel, trying to smother the flames, to muffle its roar. As Natalie slapped her left hand down for the fourth time a part of the flame had snaked its way out of the top of the towel and before either of us could comprehend the danger, her hand had landed right in the midst of it. She shouted out in pain and pulled her hand away, clutching it with her other hand, holding it close to her chest as she fell backwards, away from the heat.

I watched her, as she grimaced in pain. One of our first aiders Paul was already at her side, trying to convince her to show him the damage. She didn't reply just tried to push past him, back to my side. He was quick to stop her from coming back.

Without thinking I yanked my faded, worn out blue t-shirt over my head and slapped it down on the flame. Exposing my pale white, muscular torso to the heat. The fire now nearly twice as big from when it initially wrapped its grip around the hand that threatened to drown it out.

Before long there were 2 other people by my side with a duvet cover. I pulled away from the machine just before they droped the cover ontop of it and were finally able to rid us of the flames.

"I need you to show me." Paul stated, one hand on either of Natalie's arms, facing her.
" let me see. " He spoke softly.

She took a deep shaky breath before finally letting go of her hand, slowly presenting it too him.
" it's bad isn't it? Tell me Paul. Is it bad? " her voice full of pain.

She winced as he inspected the area that was damaged. On the top of her hand It looked wet. Glossy. Like someone had smothered it in vasiline. The skin was bright red and burnt open in places. The entire palm of her hand basically one giant blister, threatening to pop any second. The skin surrounding it, was folded and charred.

Paul opened his mouth to give her a response but before he could even get the first letter out he was interrupted.

"Killian!? No!" The voice radiated around the room and all eyes fell to the source. Mrs Harris, she was knelt to the side of her son killian who has sprawled out on the floor. Everyone went silent.
Paul quickly made his way to them, as did I. Following closely behind.