Flames

Chapter 1

250 years after.

 

                The short bell rang indicating that school was finished for the day.  I stuffed my books and papers into my blue backpack and I threw it on my back as I walked out of the classroom hearing Mr. Johnson call out, “Don’t forget to do your math homework! It’s due tomorrow!” I turned into the hall packed with students, teachers, adults, children and infants. A baby started crying in the distance from the increase in noise. The school had become a sort of safe house for people whose homes were destroyed due to the bombing.  More and more people have had to come here to live; living in emptied classrooms and in the hallways. The school was big enough for it, although at times it felt cramped and overcrowded, but it was nothing like the hospital and I was grateful for that.  The hospital had run out of room a while ago, bloodied and burned patients in the waiting room sometimes waited longer than they cared for and the doctors were so overwhelmed, they’ve issued the help of practically anyone willing. They’ve had to send away their long term patients to another hospital in another town hours away from here and more people are in need of help every day.  I’ve considered helping, but then I realize that I would probably cause more harm than good, so I don’t.  Instead I help the firefighters at the fire department, as everyone who is fifteen or older, uninjured or with a home is required to help. My job is to clean the firehouse.  It’s a boring job, really; all I do is sweep the floors, clean the counters and do laundry.  Although I admit that I follow them when they go to fight the fires and try to be unseen.  There was only one time when they saw me and they ordered me straight back to the firehouse. When they got back, I was sitting there frustrated that they had seen me, but they didn't make any remarks about it. All they talked about was this ghost or spirit in the form of a girl helping them in the fire, and helping them save the people inside.

 

                I almost reached the heavy black double doors leading outside when someone pulled me back using my backpack as puppet strings. I stumbled backwards, trying to turn myself around to see who the predator was. They stopped pulling and I quickly turned, over correcting myself, “Hey,” he said.

 

                “Ethan, you scared me half to death!” I readjusted my backpack on my shoulders. Ethan is my best friend, he is the only person that gets me and accepts me for who I am.  Well, the half he knows I am. We met when we were twelve and he still thinks he has to repay me for my act of kindness.  He's already done that by being my friend and staying my friend, but he doesn't know that.  In the four years I've known him, he’s become tall and skinny, but he never lost his ability to make me smile, even in the darkest of days. His dark hair falls into his green eyes constantly although sometimes he can’t even be bothered to readjust it.  Then about a year ago his house was destroyed by a bomb and he’s had to live here in the school and he absolutely hates it.  He’s always complaining that there are too many people and not enough food or pillows. His mom and dad work at the hospital as doctors so they’re rarely there with him and his younger sister, Ava, who is twelve.  When he lost his home, I talked to my mom and then asked them if they wanted to live with us, but they’re too proud to take other people’s “charity”, as they called it.  So they live in room 214 with twelve other people, who watch over them like family because they know that Mr. and Mrs. Hamill see them maybe once a week, if they’re lucky. 

 

                “Sorry, but I have to show you something,” he motioned for me to follow him and we started running.  The school was two stories, a mile long and half a mile wide, and we ran to the other end, passing people telling us to slow down and people trying to get out of the way as we ran towards them.  We raced up the stairs and he led me into room 200.