IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 57

Another door melted to the ground and Joan stepped over the pool of molten slag. All around her, the corridor shone in the flicker of firelight and very once in a while, the ground shook, making her have to steady herself against the wall. She passed another sign pointing her toward the exit and she hurried her steps. Whatever was causing the ground to shake was getting stronger, and judging from the way the walls were cracking with each tremor, she guessed they were not figments of her imagination.

Joan reached what she thought was the end of the hallway only to find that it turned to the right and continued on in an equally long stretch of bare corridor. A great shuddering boom sounded above and she broke into a run. Behind her she heard sections of the hallway collapse and a large plume of dust shot up after her.

The firelight danced all around and in its shadows Joan saw all of her greatest fears. Terrors from her time trapped inside the Heat Machine. Days, weeks, months...Joan had no idea how much time had passed inside of that terrible place. She yearned to blaze like she did inside the Heat Machine, push back the shadows entirely, but she knew these walls were not sufficiently strong to handle such a blaze.

“Joan,” called Tom's voice from the shadows.

“Go away,” Joan ordered the voice. She didn't have time to waste on her hallucinations, not with the building collapsing all around her.

“Joan, I want to come with you.”

“Like I could stop you.”

“I miss you Joan.”

Her vision blurred and she realized that she was crying. As she reached up to wipe away her tears she ran headlong into a security door. The impact was so great that for a moment she just lay there on the floor in a daze and it took another crash from behind to prod her back to her feet. Pieces of ceiling continued to collapse behind her and a few pebbles hit her on her head.

“Melt,” Joan said as she pelted the door with her fire. “Come on.”

The door warped and began to glow red hot but the collapsing corridor was catching up and she began to panic. She had to burn hotter.

The walls crumbled and the floor bubbled and still Joan burned hotter. All around her, the air began to pop and burst as the extreme heat threatened to ignite all of the oxygen in the air.

The ground shook and the hallway collapsed right behind her. Joan shrieked and in a great surge of concentration, her fire turned white hot. The door all but vaporized, filling the air with the acrid stench of metal, and Joan started to run.

“DON'T LEAVE ME!” Tom screamed from behind with such anguish that Joan was forced to stop fleeing and turn around.

There, just visible through the shifting clouds of dust and shadows stood a man with blonde hair. He pointed to the floor where a parcel of folded letters lay on the floor; her fire didn't seem to have its usual effect on the papers, though their edges were beginning to brown and crinkle.

“Please Joan,” Tom pleaded in a quieter tone, “Don't leave me.”

Tom's plea was so heartfelt that Joan wanted to go and take the letters and before she knew what she was doing, she had already walked over to them and picked one of them up. However, her instincts for self preservation returned as another section of corridor collapsed and she scuttled backwards on her hands and knees.

“Please,” Tom said, and Joan was torn between what to do.

While the debate raged furiously inside Joan's, the ceiling above her head cracked as another quake tore through the complex. There wasn't time to think anymore and Joan threw herself back as concrete rubble fell where she'd been crouched moments before.

“RUN!” Tom shouted and Joan obeyed, stuffing the single letter she'd managed to grab into her shirt pocket.

Joan's fire burned so hot as she ran that she hardly had to slow down for the next security door, it melted so fast. The intense heat did nothing to slow the collapse of the building, if anything it sped it up, but Joan ran on, staying just ahead of the collapse.

Door after door, turn after turn, Joan ran on while behind her the building fell, until, all at once, she found herself standing outside in the sunlight.

“No,” Joan muttered. She didn't have time for another of her waking dreams. The building was going to fall on top of her at any moment and she'd be crushed. She smacked herself across the face, pinched her arm, and still the corridor did not return. A loud crash behind her made her spin around just in time to see the last remnants of the front doors of the compound collapse.

She was out.

A light breeze blew through her hair and, judging from the sweet flowery warmth in the air, it was summer time. A high mound of earth had been built up all around the compound, recently from the looks of it, and the compound itself was in ruins. The parts of it that were still standing were pocked and scarred. In the distance Joan could hear the distant rumble of machinery and the occasional cracking of gunfire.

“Read it,” Tom said, walking into view from behind her. “There isn't much time.”

Joan withdrew the letter that she'd saved.

However, the wind shifted before Joan could begin reading and a very different scent accosted her nostrils, distracting her. Smoke and sulfur tinged with rot and decay so strong that it almost made Joan retch. A high pitched whistle sounded behind her, growing louder. Joan looked around, wondering what it could be until it climaxed in a thunderous boom that shattered the far side wall of the compound. Joan covered her ears and her fire blazed, feeding from and intensifying her fears once more.

Another whistle and this time Joan didn't wait around. She ran as fast as she could toward the hill surrounding the compound.

“Read it,” Tom said as he ran along beside her.

“Now's not a great time, you know?” Joan informed him as a blast from behind almost knocked Joan to the ground.

“It'll only get worse,” Tom said. “Read it.”

Joan did the best she could, running and trying to read the paper while at the same time keeping a look out for debris that could trip her.

Dear Joan, she read, I hope this finds you well. Or at least better than last week. Things here are going well. I got a cat...

Joan paused in both her reading and her running. She'd read this before, but when or where she couldn't remember.

Tom drew closer to Joan. “Remember me.” It wasn't a question.

Joan looked at Tom, puzzled, and then back to the letter. This was from him, she realized but before she could question him about it another distant whistle spurred her onward again. This time, as she ran, she gave the letter more attention than before.

I can't think of a good name for him. I've included a picture of him so you can help me out. He likes being held, but not being scratched. He'll sit on my lap for hours, purring, as long as I don't touch him. Whenever I do try to pet him he bats my hands away. Sometimes he'll bite if I don't stop right away, but I can't feel it.

Something wasn't right. Why couldn't Tom feel the cat biting him? Something in her mind was struggling to get loose, as though the missing memory was just out of reach, hidden in shadows.

The hill exploded and the world fell silent as her eardrums burst.

Joan tumbled head over heels through the air and with each revolution she saw the apparitions from her captivity, and her memories began to unlock.

Tom was lying on the ground burning. Tom, who had written her so many letters, who loved her. Joan still didn't now if Tom's letters had stopped because the postal service had stopped or if the war had reached where he lived.

Melanie stepped out of the flame and took Joan's hand to calm her fears. Melanie had always been there, sheltered her, even knocked Mike out to help her escape, but her visits had long since stopped, thanks to Matt and his false promises.

Mike stood not far behind, surrounded by bookshelves and looking nervous but not complaining about the fire. He'd given Joan more chances than she deserved, considering how much Mike loved his bookstore. True, it was in part due to Melanie's influence but he had genuinely seemed interested in helping Joan.

“NO!” Joan screamed as the apparitions vanished at the same moment she hit the ground. Tom's letter had been torn apart in the explosion and only the little piece she held between her fingers remained. Pain arched through her like electricity and put an end to the flood of memories as it became clear that she wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. In fact, given how close she was to the explosion, she doubted she would last much longer.

Through the gap in the hill, Joan saw an approaching army. On the far side of the ruined compound another army crested the hill. It was obvious from their movements and hand signals that they had seen one another, as well as Joan. Many of them had their weapons trained on her. As they drew closer Joan did the only thing she think of; she burned.

Fueled by her fear, her pain, and her anger, the fire exploded outward. The soldiers on both sides were forced backward by the heat. None of them had time to shoot their weapons. Men screamed and then fell silent as the fire expanded faster and faster, consuming everything within. What was left of the compound after the shelling crumbled beneath the unrelenting heat, the parts that could melt melted and the rest turned to dust.

Joan made no attempt to reign in her fire. The years of holding it back, the fear and anger at what had been done to her, finally found focus in her fire.

“YOU BETRAYED ME!” Joan screamed at the armies, at her family, at Matt, and even at Judge Dervin. They all should have been the ones protecting her, helping her, and instead they'd allowed this to happen, allowed her to be abused and driven into madness.

The fire continued to press outward, burning through buildings, flooding through caves, finding every crevice and hidden bunker, purging everything in its path. Nothing escaped. And it was accelerating. Hundreds of miles had already been engulfed in the fire and still it sped on. Joan felt each new thing the fire touched and she knew what each object was, whether it was plant or beast. Everything was burned. She wondered what would happen if or when her fire found Tom, Melanie, or Mike. Would she recognize them? Would she spare them? What would be left to them in a world of dust and ash? Would it be more merciful to kill them now than to leave them to suffer and die slowly?

After another couple of minutes the oceans began to burn as her fire raced onward in every direction. The North and South poles lost their ice and cast enormous clouds of steam into the air.

Joan felt colder than usual and she wasn't sure if the gathering darkness was because of smoke clouding over the sky or if it was just her vision dimming. Her body shivered and shook but her pain, at least, lessened somewhat.

Flowers made from fire blossomed around her on the ground, waving as though in a gentle breeze. Blades of grass followed in like manner and soon Joan lay in a golden field. Trees burst out of the ground, reaching up toward the sky. As a final touch, Tom, Melanie, and Mike came and sat down beside her. Joan could feel them in her fire, though that may have been part of the hallucination. Though it didn't appear to make any difference to her friends, she told her fire not to burn them.

Tom stroked Joan's hair, ignoring the sticky patches where blood and dirt had matted it. His fingers were soft on her skin and he traced her facial features with his other hand.

The fire finished crossing the oceans and surged across land once more. In the places where there was nothing to burn but sand, Joan left glassy fields of fire flowers behind.

Melanie began to sing a lullaby and Joan was pleased that her recent deafness did not extend to her hallucinations. Melanie's voice was clear and delicate, something Joan had always admired about her. In high school, their choir teacher had complained that Melanie's voice never carried very well, but now, in this valley of fire, it carried perfectly. Joan nestled her head on Tom's lap as Melanie's lullaby resonated through her body, easing the last of the pain away.

“Joan,” Mike said, “let me tell you a story.”

And he told her of a beautiful land of peace and calm, where no one was feared, where doors were never locked and the lights were never dimmed. A land where her family loved her, where her fire was never outside of her control or hurt those that she loved.

Fire met fire and Joan sighed in relief. The world spun in her fiery grasp, cradled and purged of all the pain and sorrow she'd endured, but at the same time she felt sad and empty. Joan couldn't help but to weep for the loss. The stunning cities, the wonders of nature, the loves and joys of humankind, untold beauties never to be seen or lived now that everything was...gone.

“Sleep,” Mike said, and Joan's body relaxed.

“Sleep,” Melanie said, and Joan's eyelids grew heavy.

“Sleep,” Tom whispered, and Joan's fire went out.

She was walking hand in hand with Tom through a wide expanse of fire lilies. Melanie and Mike were not far off, also hand in hand. An understanding smile showed on each of their faces, none of them blaming her for what she'd done, and behind them, Joan left her body, and with it all her troubles and woes.