The smoke clears my way and the faint but vividly ashy image of Gale comes into focus.
Through the choking coughs I run t him in a paniced motion.
"Gale?" I croak, slumping t his side.
No response.
He lays flat on his stomach, arms wrapped around his head and his shaggy bblack hair strewn everywhere.
"Gale?" I cough patting/rubbing his back.
Nothing.
The faint crys of the affected citizens comeback to life.
"Mrs. Hawthorne?"
I stand up to the sound.
"Hello?" I answer.
A thick floating layer of leaking ash flutters in from the cracks in the ceiling above.
"Mrs. Hawthorne?" The voice echoes.
A small cough comes into range.
It was small even to be recognized as a baby's.
It sounds again.
A baby's.
Baby's.
AZALEA!
"Hello? Where are you? Azalea?" I realize.
"Rissa Hawthorne?"
"Yes! Yes! I'm right here!" I wave the dark ash from my eyes.
"Mrs. Hawthorne." Someone panted, standing in front of me, holding up Azalea.
I took her into my arms and held her from the world.
"Thank you," I whisper from a whimper.
"Bad parenting," The voice tisked, trailing off as the person turned to leave.
Parenting.
Not just parenting, but bad parenting.
What have I done to Azalea?
I have completely ignored her—shunned her absent-mindedly from my world. What have I done?
I lift her by her arms and hold her up to my face.
She coughs.
What trauma has the bombing caused on this little innocent child?
"You Okay, Azalea?" I mumble just tweaking the end to sound the least of a question.
Another cough.
The smoke must be getting to her.
I kneel against Gale, drapping my body over his back for any sort of protection.
I aimlessly curl Azalea into my arm and block the smoke in her direction.
Stretchers fling here and there, gathering the mangled and distraught. It is going to be a long wait….for whatever we are waiting for.
Hello, readers.
I CANNOT express how sorry I am for not updating. BUT thankfully to end your misery, the next chapter wraps up LIFE. Stay tune…