Fanfare

Timer

Trenna can hardly make herself think, move, for a long moment, as the red numbers blink once, twice, three times. And then she is snapped to wakefulness as the last body disappears around a corner.

Yelling at herself to hurry in her mind, she runs, heedless of being seen, back through the building and slides down the pipe, not even bothering to stay on the whole way; halfway down, she jumps. Anyone else would have broken a leg. She simply bends her knees to absorb the impact and grabs Kina's hand. "We have to run," she says, and there is panic in her voice.

They don't even question her. Joss takes Kina's hand, and they begin to run. Trenna wills them to go faster, faster. She knows she is worrying them. She knows she is slowing them down. But they need to go faster. "Faster, hurry," she huffs between breaths. Joss looks past Kina at her, frowning.

"Why?" he asks. But she cannot answer. She is too busy running. And remembering the number she saw, from a distance she knows is impossible. Because deep in a dark alleyway, at least twenty metres away, she saw the small, red numbers blinking down, can still see them in her mind.

2:28. 2:27. 2:26.

The numbers tick down, one by one. And she knows there is nothing she can do to stop them. They feel so far, yet so close. She feels she has been running for seconds. Days. Minutes. Hours. Time feels disjointed. But, she knows, it is passing. It is passing with every frantic beat of her heart, every sawing breath she pulls in, every shuddering breath she lets out.

She sees Joss's house, looming closer, and puts on a final burst of speed.

55. 54. 53. 50. 47. 45. 39.

She can feel her lungs, tearing inside of her, feel the frantic motion of her heart, trying to pump blood around her body. She can feel her pulse in her fingertips, throbbing in her temples, beneath her jaw, her wrists. Every part of her feels alive, more alive than she's ever felt. But not in a good way. She's not going to make it.

20. 19. 18. 17.

They're in the blast zone. She knows it. If they're placing it there in hopes of it destroying the flames, taking them down, then the bomb can reach that far. And, out on the street, they are still in danger.

Trenna sobs a choked breath. She can feel the energy coursing through her. She can feel that it's not enough. Joss could get there without her; he's always been a fast runner. He can pull Kina with him, though she was never very fast. Strangely, her long legs were not a help, but a hindrance, something for her to trip over. Without her, though, her sister and friend have a chance.

Still, life calls to her. Sacrifice is stupid. She races.

"Ten seconds," she pants out. Kina's eyes widen, and they push themselves faster. Faster. The house is getting closer. So close. So, so close...

She feels it, when the bomb goes off. It is soundless, but also the loudest thing she has ever heard. There is a sort of whomp as all the oxygen is sucked from the air, pulled away or pushed away, she does not know; all she knows is that it is gone, and her tired muscles can hardly work without it.

Silence.

She holds her breath, but her lungs are already starving for air and she slows, slows. Kina takes her hand, and Joss is holding hers. Their faces are red from lack of breath, but their chests are still as they tug her along. Up the slight step. Through the door.

Kina lets go of her hand and she collapses as the door slams shut. She is pulling in air, air that is still but is there, retained in the house. Her chest heaves as she breathes in and out, in and out. Kina and Joss are collapsed on the ground on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, just happy to be alive.

But Trenna, as soon as she can rise, goes to the window facing the closest fiery border. When she sees it intact, the flames not undone by the attack, she lets out a breathless, harsh laugh.

"Still there?" Kina asks, breathlessly, from the ground as Joss pulls her up. Trenna just nods.

Joss lies down on the couch, and Kina goes to her sister and envelopes her in her arms. Trenna closes her eyes and breathes in her sister's scent, warm and familiar. The embrace is unexpected and longed for, in her starvation for closeness. Her sister is not generally a close person, with anyone but Joss, and neither is she. But, sometimes, her hugs feel like release, relief. Kina lets her go and walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Trenna touches her finger to her neck and feels wetness, breathes it in and smells salty tears. Kina does not like people seeing her cry. Trenna can understand that; she doesn't, either, really. It makes her feel weak. But, right now, she does not feel weak. She just feels alive.

She sighs as she walks over to Joss and sits on the armrest. He is stretched out on his side, legs slightly folded, too long for the couch. His bed sits in the corner, neatly made, but he does not use it. "How long do you think it'll last?" she asks tiredly.

"You're not going home tonight, Trenna," Joss tells her, and his words are firm and final; law. He taps his legs, eyes closed, and she crawls into the triangle of space his legs leave free, her knees fitting into his so that she lies in the opposite direction he does, her head on the opposite armrest, his feet on her stomach. His body heat is warm and comforting, and she smiles as she closes her eyes. She cannot help but fall asleep, being this warm and this comfortable, this safe.

Kina looks at herself in the mirror, hands braced on the sink. She turns on the tap, and water trickles out, as it does in every household; their tanks do not catch much, as the flames make most of the water evaporate quite quickly, but they survive.

She sees her eyes, bright with tears, her skin, pale with two red patches high on her cheeks. She splashes water on her face, patting it dry, and then walks out of the bathroom, her eyes slightly red from tears that cannot help but fall. She takes in her sleeping sister and friend, and Joss blinks open his eyes, taking her in but saying nothing about her obvious tears. Silently, he lifts his arm and shuffles back a little, careful not to shift Trenna; an invitation.

Kina crawls onto the couch, tucking her head against his chest and curling into a tight ball as he wraps his arms around her, his hand buried in her hair like a comb, the other lightly resting on her ribs. She shivers into his warmth, closer. He pretends not to notice the hot tears that soak his skin as she sleeps.