| Title | The Burst |
| Genre | War |
| Warnings | None |
| Rating | G |
| Words | 438 |
| This was one of those fics that just happens. It’s the intro to a much longer piece, that will be released in bits and pieces. | |
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Researchers have told us that it takes approximately one third of a second to react to visual stimuli.
In that one third of a second, the world can become extremely still. You haven’t reacted yet, at least not consciously, but your brain is already sending out distress signals. Your breathing quickens and your heart pounds to deliver oxygen and adrenaline to all corners of your body. Even before you know what you’re seeing, your body has gone into a full blown panic.
And then you scream.
It isn’t until a second or two after you scream that you realize you’ve turned away, and that your scream wasn’t anything but the most primitive warning. You’re begging your fellow humans to turn to you to find the cause of your distress. You’re begging them not to look at whatever it is that lies in the other direction.
As your cry comes to an end, you pant for breath. Your child tugs at your wrist and asks simply What’s wrong? They don’t know, can’t know, what is coming in just seconds. You remain silent, hoping the mystery will keep people looking towards you. No, not towards you. Just anywhere but where they had been looking. You can’t yell Don’t look. Human nature would only dictate that they would do just that.
There you stand, dozens, maybe hundreds, of confused, annoyed eyes fixated on your panting, desperate form. Your skin crawls under their stare, but you can’t move. If you do, the spell will be broken.
Finally, as you unconsciously tense your muscles and pull your child closer to your body, your conscious mind processes the scene you took in. The barely perceptible shaking of the earth, the slight plume of smoke, the roar of engines miles away.
The world erupts in a blast of yellow and white. You squeeze your eyes shut, worried that, even with your back turned, the explosion will leave you blind. There are gasps and cries from the crowd as people hunch over and cover their heads. Seconds later, the shock wave rolls through, throwing dust, dirt and debris wildly through the air.
You fall to your knees and clutch your child to your chest. She’s screaming, like everyone else, as the world flies quickly by. Even so very far away from the blast, you feel as if you’re in the wake of a tornado.
As soon as the storm comes, it has passed, and the world is calm again. You can’t bear to turn, to see the settling destruction that lays on the horizon. With weary arms, you lift your child, and you begin to walk.
