Excerpt: Something of Names

The heat was intense, skin-blistering; if he didn’t know he had to go in, he would have already fled into the freezing blackness that was the outside of the crumpled train. Sickeningly wild flames danced from one end of the car, sending flickering light wavering against the scrub surrounding the track.

It was the silence that bothered him so much, as if he was the lone survivor. This wasn’t true, he knew, that would be impossible, but the thought nagged, burrowing deeper…

Couldn’t think anymore, he knew he’d lose his resolve.

He took a deep breath of cooler air before ducking his head and running closer to the train car. He could feel pieces of gravel inching their way through the rips in his shoes, but the gusts of backdraft from the torn wall were masking its crunch with their hungry, licking gulps.

He rounded the car, ducking out of a billow of hellish heat; finally: the door. The huge metal door was ajar, hanging awry on its bolts, but it was not engulfed in the flames and that was vaguely comforting. He clambered up the steps, instinctively grabbing for the railing but pulling his hand back before the searing pain hit his brain.

It was pretty damn hot here.

Think, Thomas, think. He reached the top, the slightly gummy feel beneath his shoes betraying the sheer heat emanating, warming the shreds of rubber that were his soles. He felt surprisingly dry despite the billowing heat, and then it hit him – any moisture was evaporating as soon as it appeared.

There. He saw someone on the floor in the car, unidentifiable burning things around it. He wrenched open the door, dropping to the ground as an inexplicably unbearable wave of heat hit his face. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think… crawl.

The carpet was melting, separating in the sheer heat, unraveling and in some places burning. Thomas reached the still figure, grabbing its arm and turning it over. He recognized the face of the young man who had sat in front of him; now there was a long blistered gash down the side of his face, blood drying on the burning carpet mere feet away.

A long, screeching groan from the burning side of the car; Thomas scrambled backward, grabbing for the young man’s shoulder, dragging him toward the door. No time, Thomas heard his mind shout.

Almost to the door. Things buckled beneath, sight wavered in the light-distorting heat, the young man was so heavy. Thomas strained for the door, every sinew stretched to the limit. Somewhere flames erupted in his vision… he batted away a fleetingly ignited stream of melting, burning plastic. Pain, deep searing agony up his arm.

Hot metal against his face; he was at the door. Thomas pushed the thick metal away, hauling the limp figure in front of him. Somehow he tumbled out the door after the figure, flopping onto the stairs, thumping to the deeply rutted gravel.

Everything spun. It was freezing out here, and then another blast of the inferno took his breath away. He let forth a half-audible, disoriented mumble, trying to push himself up. No time, Thomas, think…

Hissing, billowing clouds of smoke filled his vision. He was up on his knees again, searching the wavering ground for the figure – found him, hauled him up again, stood. Staggering away, toward the icy blackness, the expanse of sky and scrub that so seemlessly blended. He thought he heard voices as the inferno faded into a ringing silence, and his foot caught the edge of a stubborn weed. Thomas stumbled, lost his balance, tipped…

Nothing.