Ashes of fire (CH2)

Kyle tried to rise, but the pain was overwhelming.

He glanced at his broken watch, then turned his head, trying to understand his surroundings.

Some had died. Others had fled.

Only he remained—surrounded by three motionless corpses.

He began pushing through the wreckage, the twisted metal and overturned gear from the truck forming a tight, nearly sealed exit.

He forced himself through a narrow gap.

Silence.

Total darkness.

Only his own ragged breathing filled the void, and the scent of blood and burnt oil clung to his lungs like smoke from an ancient fire.

He saw nothing.

It felt like the darkness itself was watching him… waiting for him to move—so it could strike.

He lifted his flashlight slowly toward the rubble’s edge…

A single step.

Not a scream.

Not a groan.

Just one dragging, heavy step.

(Whispering to himself while gripping the flashlight):

 “That’s not a person…

That’s something else...”

Kyle turned off the light, trembling.

He tried to calm his breathing—any sound could give him away.

 “Wake up, please… wake me from this nightmare,” he thought.

Then the truck began to shake.

Hard.

Loud thuds from outside—closer and closer.

Then… a sound unlike anything human.

A wet gargle—like lungs filled with mud.

Its breathing was ragged and violent—

Each inhale sounded like death fighting for a last breath.

Kyle held his breath.

 “Think… think… think!”

He began to panic. The calm soldier was starting to slip.

Then—something unexpected.

The truck, flipped on its side, had landed on the edge of a ravine.

Kyle hadn’t realized it was sliding slowly, inch by inch.

Then—it gave way.

The ground collapsed.

The truck tumbled violently down the slope.

Kyle hit his head. Again.

Corpses flew beside him.

Metal crunched.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Water began to leak in through the cracks like cold fingers reaching for his chest.

The freezing chill jolted Kyle awake—not from drowning, but from silence.

The banging on the walls had stopped.

That choking growl was gone.

Only…

Drips of water tapping the metal hull.

And his own heartbeat, screaming:

 “You’re the last one breathing.”

Desperate, Kyle shoved wreckage aside, trying to escape.

He broke through, the cold water licking his skin—

But his breath was fading.

He saw the moonlight flickering above the surface.

He swam upward, fighting the current.

A dead tree, shattered from the crash, had lodged itself nearby.

That tree was his only hope.

Kyle wasn’t a strong swimmer.

The current was too much.

He thrashed, panicking, searching for anything to hold onto—

Screaming into the void:

 “Help! Somebody! Help!”

But there was no one.

He started sinking. His strength failing.

He had trained for war, but not this.

Kyle felt his limbs relax…

He began to let go.

Memories of his father flashed through his mind.

Hallucinations, lights, voices.

All tricks of the brain trying to comfort him In death.

Then—footsteps.

Rushing.

Precise.

Someone was running.

He couldn’t scream anymore.

His eyes closed.

Then—a voice, faint through the roaring water and darkness:

 “Grab him… Grab him!”