Cold Fire [SAMPLE]

[36]

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

It’s nearing the end of the movie when the air around me starts to shift and swirl for the second time today. The moment I notice it, my very being yanks back so hard that I pull out of my body, watching overhead as I have many time before. Even from this distance, I can feel my heart beating in my chest, can feel the shock and fear running through my veins and drowning in my blood-stream. I don’t want to go through any more pain today and I’m scared by the fact that I have to.

But even though I want to get as far away as I can from the scorching heat that’s about to explode inside of me, and even though I’m filled with a fear so strong I can feel myself shaking, I have only one overwhelming urge: to get back inside my body. Because I can’t have a heat attack in a quiet cinema. And I certainly can’t put Sarah through that.

Suddenly, I’m doing something I’ve never done before: forcing myself to re-enter the place I didn’t mean to leave. And despite the fact that I have absolutely no idea how to do that, when I follow my instincts and float over to my body, I can feel a small tug, gently pulling me towards my physical self. Before I know it, I’m melting back into my skin and abruptly, I’m back. I waste no time, hastily jumping to my feet and dashing out of the cinema before Sarah can utter a word, all the while thankful that I took the aisle seat.

People shoot me quizzical looks as I burst out of the cinema doors and head quickly for the entrance leading to the dull outside world. The swirling air gushes after me, unable to reach my body and sink into my skin, and it’s as I’m rushing outside that I’m hit by the most ridiculous thought: if I just kept running, I could avoid it forever.

But a small voice reminds, if you swap back, you won’t have to avoid it. And suddenly my original thought holds no value. It’s not about avoiding the inevitable – it’s about pursuing the possible. And swapping back is a possibility. Albeit, an unlikely one, but there’s always a chance, and I plan to make the most of it.

Gratefulness fills me when I stumble across a small, deserted alleyway. I turn into it, but keep running until I find a second, even smaller path that leads behind the cinema. I stop, and sink to the ground with my back up against the rough brick wall. And then the heat finds my chest and I let it overtake me.

I’m still crying for a while after the pain has faded away, letting my tears flow out in warm rivers down my cheeks. But I’m not crying because of sadness, I’m crying because of fear – because the chance of surviving the next few months are so slim and it seems that the very air I breathe is against me.

I look up then, opening my ears and my eyes to the world around me. But there’s no one around and it’s dead silent. So silent that I honestly feel as if I’m the last person alive, condemned to live a lonely and painful last month, or however much longer I have left.

Where is Sarah? Why hasn’t she come for me yet? I can’t help but ask myself these questions, questions that are unanswerable and a waste of time. If I want to see her that bad, I shouldn’t wait for her to find me, I should try to find her. But I feel drained of energy, and instead, I find myself sinking further into the floor and closing my eyes, allowing the peaceful sound of the wind in the trees to lull me into a state of unbreakable calm.  

A short while later, I hear someone shout my name, accompanied by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Before I know it, there’s a hand on my shoulder and I can sense someone by my side.

“What happened?” asks a voice. Sarah’s voice.

“I had a heat attack,” I say quietly, my eyes focused on the part of the horizon I can see.