Too Late

Ka-thunk.

He ran, feet barely touching the ground as he raced toward the sound.

Ka-thunk.

He was closer now. There was an odd sound, like a hiss.

Ka-thunk.

His breath came in quick gasps. He'd been running at full speed for far longer than he was used to.

Ka-thunk.

He could see his breath condensing in front of him. The air around him was cold.

Ka-thunk.

He heard another hiss, and a creaking groan, like a machine that badly needed oiling.

Ka-thunk.

He felt vibrations beneath his feet; the windows and doors along the street rattled with the reverberations.

Ka-thunk.

He could see spotlights ahead, trained on a city block that was wreathed in smoke.

Ka-thunk.

His muscles ached from the shock-waves that rolled around him.

Ka-thunk.

He was so close; there was no way he could stop now. With renewed vigor, he ran faster.

Ka-thunk.

He winced, close enough now to hear the whine of machinery; the groaning of metal was louder and more clear now.

Ka-thunk.

He had to get there before it was too late.

Ka-thunk.

He heard the distinct whistling of a mortar; a cry ripped itself from his parched throat.

Ka-thunk.

His hands reached out, as if grabbing for someone. Thunderous booms from military weapons shook the air.

Ka-thunk.

His face twisted in agony as windows shattered around him, shards of glass slicing his skin.

Ka-thunk.

He ran on despite the pain and the blood; it wasn't too late; it couldn't possibly be too late.




The very earth shook as an explosion lit up the sky, lifting dust and debris and scattering it in a wave of sound and pressure.



The next step never came.