Fractal
Millions of people saw Nathan Petrelli when they looked at Sylar. Millions of images bouncing back and forth. Reflections of reflections swimming on to infinity.
The air is screaming.
I should run but I can barely see. They're flinging fire, ice, and something that stings as it passes by me.
And something that smashes me forward through the door Suresh was holding closed. There's a moment of beautiful weightlessness and I'm falling.
It ain't the fall that kills you, it's the landing.
"We have to get up there and help." Suresh is sitting up on the rubble and staring up at the lightshow.
"Help who, the terrorist or the serial killer?" My arm is facing the wrong way. Funny, you'd think it would hurt more.
He blinks at me. "I don't think that's a terribly helpful attitude."
It takes me a couple of attempts to get up and the distant buildings ebb and flow alarmingly. At some point between the swells, Suresh has appeared in front of me. I can smell the blood soaking into his collar.
Phone, phone, phone. Okay in my pockets I've got; two quarters fused together, a double eagle of course, my wallet, oh and a bunch of M&M's smeared over the melted mess that is my phone.
Suresh pats his pockets without success and then starts to say something but a random act from on high blesses us with a rain of broken masonry.
"Where're you going?"
"Away from here. Wherever they're going," I say, nodding at the hordes evacuating the surrounding buildings.
"Just run away?" he echoes, trotting after me.
"See that?" I ask, waving my mercifully functional right hand at the car park where a stray ricochet has created a tasteful fire and explosion motif. "Driving seems a wash out."
"We can't just leave!"
"There's no we."
"For god's sake man, look up there!" He grabs my arm and tries to pivot me around.
"Okay, ow. You know just because that one isn't broken doesn't mean you can haul on it."
"Sylar is up there!" he screeches.
"Yeah and I for one am really pleased he's not down here! Now you can stick around here and get turned to charcoal but I'm getting the hell out of here."
"And do what?"
"I thought maybe I'd start with getting my arm looked at. None of my shirts will fit properly with it like that. You might want to consider medical attention yourself, you've got about half a pint of blood pumping down the back of your neck, if you hadn't noticed."
"I'm sure that the emergency services will be on the way," he suggests, turning around to glance back at the cool kids melting bits of the neighbourhood.
"No, they won't. They'll be at the edge of the perimeter. Look, there are protocols in place for this and I do not want to be here when they sterilise the area. We've got maybe fifteen minutes before a flyover turns this whole place into some much rubble."
"All right!" He throws his hands up in the air. "Where are we going? Or do you just intend running around like a chicken with your head cut off?"
"What am I your fucking father now? 'Don't leave me daddy?' I'm going to find a working phone and some transport. You do whatever the hell you want."
There's a noise, a tiny creak like the first footfall into fresh snow, and then the Homeland Security building starts to collapse. Each floor drops gently onto the floor below gradually gathering speed and weight. A whirlpool of wind and dust sends us to our knees.
'Oh god…'
'I don't want….'
'It hurts…'
'I'm sorry…'
'I never meant…'
'I only wanted…'
They think they're dying alone. Crushed and suffocating in the dust and rubble. Weeping, begging, praying. They're not alone. No dying thought unheard. It'll be weeks before the echoes fade, before I can sleep through the night.
Like every other time.