The Song of Violet Snow

“Run, Violet!” my husband screamed. “We have to get out of here!”

I ran as fast as I could, but the street was full of fire and debris, which slowed my progress.

“Stephen!” I yelled as my hand slipped out of his.

Suddenly, more explosions rocked the building next to us, sending concrete and glass raining down on us from above. I covered my head with my hands, but debris began to fall all around me, and hot ash burned my skin.

I screamed for my husband again and then dove into the street, away from the chaos. As if in reply to my scream, a deafening screech filled the air, and I threw my hands over my ears.

I tried my best not to move a muscle as the sound of leathery wings followed the screeching. I could feel the wind of them on my back, so I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath.

A few minutes later, the flapping wings moved away, and I carefully rolled over onto my back. I took a deep, shaky breath and then started coughing from the smoke in the air. Slowly, I sat up and looked at the devastation around me.

It was eerily quiet now, just the sounds of burning rubble, and far away screams and car alarms. There was no one around me, though, not even any bodies, and it made me feel like I was alone in the world.

I tried to see Stephen through the haze in the air, but I couldn’t find him. I called out for him again, and this time my voice seemed unnaturally loud.

With a wince of pain, I got to my feet and stumbled the way we’d been running. My long blond hair was tangled and flopped into my face, filling my eyes with ash. I violently shoved it back out of the way as tears began to fill my eyes. I tried to tell myself that it was only the ash, but I knew that wasn’t true.

I continued to limp to the end of the street, making sure to avoid getting too close to the crumbling building. I expected to turn the corner and find Stephen, running back to rescue me, but instead, I spotted him on the sidewalk, leaning against what was left of the building, crying out in pain.

I hurried to him as fast as my own injuries would allow, and then knelt down beside him. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and he was clutching at his leg. He didn’t even seem to know I was there.

“Stephen?” I said gently, through my tears, and put on a weary smile.

He looked at me, surprise mixed with the pain and fear on his face. He tried to return my smile, but it faded as soon as I began assessing his injury. His leg was burned, the top few layers of skin red and blistered.

“We’ve gotta get off the street,” Stephen said, and then groaned in pain again.

“Right,” I answered. “I don’t think we can go home, though.”

Stephen shook his head. “Our apartment is gone.”

I stood up and looked around. The block was quiet now, except for a few fires burning in the street and debris continuing to fall from the buildings. Then I spotted a pharmacy with what looked like an apartment above it. I knew it could be dangerous, that looters could come at any moment, but Stephen needed the medicine, we both did.

“Come on,” I said and helped him get to his feet.

He grimaced and stumbled, so I put his arm around my shoulders to help him. It was a struggle to walk, broken glass crunching beneath our feet. The acrid smell of burning chemicals filled our lungs.

Finally, we made it to the pharmacy. The glass was blown out, so we carefully ducked through the broken door. No one else had been there yet, and it was still, mostly, intact.

I found the door to the upstairs apartment, but it was locked with a padlock. I helped my husband sit and then looked for something to break the lock. There wasn’t much, considering it was a pharmacy, but I finally found a collection of walking canes. I grabbed the heaviest one, ran back to the door, and began pounding on the lock.

“You’ll never break the lock like that,” Stephen said.

He was right, but I did manage to break the hasp it was attached to. I smiled triumphantly and then tugged at the door until it opened.

“Maybe we can reattach the lock from the other side,” I suggested, and picked up the lock and hasp.

Then, I helped drag Stephen up the stairs. He grabbed his leg and cried out through gritted teeth on every step. After what felt like hours, we finally made it to the apartment. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years and had started falling apart even before the attacks. It had a couple of sofas where we could rest, though.

“I’m going downstairs to find you some medicine,” I said, once Stephen was comfortable on the couch.

I quickly made my way back down the steps, part of me terrified that another attack could come at any moment. I waited for the sound of fire and roars, so distracted by the insanity I’d been through that I wasn’t paying attention to the pharmacy until I walked into it.

The sound of breaking glass finally brought me back to the moment. I looked down at my feet and realized that it wasn’t me walking on it. Someone else was in the pharmacy. I didn’t even bother to look around, just ducked down behind a shelf.

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and I was sure whoever was in the room with me would hear it. I tried to crawl back to the door, but a piece of broken glass sliced through the heel of my hand. I hissed in pain and then put my hand to my mouth.

The footsteps around the room stopped, and I could hear whispering.

“We can hear you,” a teasing voice said.