Before

Escape. 

Escape was the only thing. It raced through his fevered brain, making obsession look like a schoolgirl crush. Dragging himself along in the air-duct, clawing his way with raw, bloody fingers, his eyes could only see the end. So close. 

The shaft was small, a tight fit even for him and he could only barely scoot along on his belly. It was enough, it would have to be. He moved as fast as he was able, frantically scrabbling, not toward, but away. 

 (so close so close)

 Almost there. The smell of fresh air spurred him on, made his breath hitch in a pitiful attempt to draw it in. A sob caught in his throat he thrust both hands out, clutching with his bleeding fingers to reach the end. The ventilation panel was one of the old, good ones, heavy and strong, but it was no match for a strength born of panic and desperation. 

 (no time no time any minute out out out out) 

 He shoved at the panel with everything he had left, pushed it into the open air and tumbled out after it, hitting the ground hard and awkward in a tangle of bruised limbs. 

 Panting, he struggled to get up (getup run run run fire run), slipping over the rocky sand of the desert floor. Words beyond grasp, the picture of fire, explosions and a meter in a violent red floated in his mind, and moaning in pain he managed to get to his feet. A few clumsy, stumbling steps were all he managed before it happened. A rumbling beast under his feet, then blast as the building, now finally behind him, went up in sound like the end of the world. The concussion picked him up and he flew forever before coming down to earth painfully. The fire lit up the sky and the earth around him, it was everything. He covered his face as best he could, and felt the burns singing on his already ruined skin.  

The initial explosion seemed over, nothing left but fire, fire retreating back into its lair, to burn and burn. Was that screaming? The sick, manic smile disappeared after less than a second, no sign it had ever existed. He was burning. The shirt he wore – the only garment he had had time to grab after killing the single guard they had left with him – was on fire. In a blind panic he beat and tore at it until he got it off and away from him. Then, naked and ruined, he lurched to his feet and continued on. Away. It was all that mattered. Tottering over the baked, harsh terrain. Rocks everywhere, boulders taller than he was dotted the horizon, several pits, valleys, craters, dark as mouths scattered across his view. Vision blurred, darkened. It was harder to move on. 

 The manic strength that had finally allowed him to fight back and escape was draining away fast. His mind, sharp and aware and knowledgeable once again, was breaking up, fading, slipping away. Even still his feet scraped along the dry, cracked ground, forcing him to move despite his loss of self. Shuffling forward focused only on moving, the moon shone overhead. The moon. How long had it been? Months, years, since he’d been free to see the sky. Stars sprinkled in an ebony night sky. The moon was a beacon, hope, freedom. Fresh air. So brilliant, so perfect. It was drowning him. 

Distracted by the pull of the most beautiful object he could remember seeing, he lost his tenuous footing and slid down into one of the crater, an embankment – and landed in water, a small pond glowing with the reflection of the moon, possibly where they had gotten their water. Flailing about he found footing and managed with supreme effort to stand. 

 Explosions again. The fires lit up the world behind him, but he took no notice. It would burn him to death or it wouldn’t, either way, all that mattered was he was free. Free. The would probably come for him, or they were all dead (please god) but for now, free. 

 And there was the moon. Indescribable, enormous. Only the moon. Tears he didn’t feel slid down his face as he stood in the warm, waist-deep water, no longer to muster the strength or will to keep going. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward, half in and half out of the water, the fire and moon lighting the sky in a fury of hot and cold. Somewhere, sirens began to wail and the last of what he was broke apart and drifted off to the stars.