The Same Second

words by Elaine Ruan, art by Riese Carlson

“EVACUATE NOW.”

By the time Marina smells the fire, the sky has already turned to the colour of rust. Ash drifts down like black snow, settling in her hair, her shoes, the open trunk of her car. Somewhere behind the house, trees are cracking open, one by one, like lit matches.

The power dies mid-pack. The garage door stalls in the air, trapped between open and closed. She breathes in the air and then chokes.

The fire has almost swallowed the road. The only path is behind the house. Heat pushes her forward, breath by breath. Her jacket begins to smoke, and the air feels thick enough to chew.

She thinks of water.                                                  

Cold. Weight. Something that could keep her alive.

She stumbles. The ground is too warm for her even to touch. For one second, she imagines herself staying there and becoming part of the ash.

She stands.

The river finally appears through the smoke, black and fast, steaming at the edges. She tilts her head a little. She steps in, then deeper, until the heat fades from her back.

Behind her, the flames rage, bright and furious, stopped by the moving dark.

“SHELTER IMMEDIATELY”

By the time Aidan feels the cold, the world has already lost its colour. Snow drifts down like white ash, settling in his hair, his boots, the hood of his car. Somewhere beyond the road, trees are cracking apart, one by one, like glass splitting under pressure.

The engine dies mid-drive. The dashboard flickers, then goes dark. The car door hangs open, trapped between inside and out. He breathes in, and the cold cuts his lungs.

The storm has almost swallowed the road. The only way is the path ahead. Cold pushes him on, step by step. His gloves stiffen, his breath thickens, the air sharp enough to chew.

He thinks of heat.

Fire. Weight. Something that could keep him alive.

He stumbles. The snow is too cold for him to kneel in, too soft to hold him up. For one second, he imagines staying there, letting the white bury him, letting himself become part of the storm.

He stands.

The shelter finally appears through the snow, dark and low, half-buried at the edge of the road. He tilts his head and steps inside, then deeper, until the cold fades from his back.

Behind him, the snowstorm rages, loud and endless, stopped by thin walls and stubborn breath.

They stay where they are.

The river is dark and moving, carrying the fire’s reflection in broken pieces. The surface shifts, red and gold sliding over black, as if something were trying to take shape. In another place, hands rest close to a small flame. The glass in front of it glows, light bending and thinning, the heat pressing gently against a tired face.

The water keeps moving. The fire keeps burning.

Breathing. Waiting. 

But they never see each other. They never know that somewhere, at the same moment, someone else is doing the same…

to stay alive.