The 5th Guardian

When thinking about death, I always pictured myself to die of old age peacefully in my sleep.

Certainly not this way.

I didn't know what happened exactly but I thought I was going go die. At least, I should be dead. Yet, I was still breathing. Quite a miracle I might add because the possibility of surviving a nuclear mine was next to none. Zero to be exact.
But here I was. Breathing. Alive. The stench of chemicals burning in my nostrils, my clothes completely burned, my body covered in their ashes and the only thought crossing my mind over and over again: Why was I still alive?

Why was I, Allison Steve, age 21 not dead and burned down to ash like everybody else who had been riding that deathtrap of a truck with me?

(c)resistance94 2016