After the Fall by Morgan O'Neill Page B

Don’t ring them out too much, then we’ll put them over our heads.”
    Laita rushed out.
    “ Okay ,” Gigi said in English, then caught herself. She turned to the children. “It’s getting very hard to see and breathe, so we’ll go single-file and stay low. Hold on to the person in front of you and cover your mouths. I don’t care if the blankets stink, just cover up.”
    Laita came back with the sodden blankets, and together they draped them over the children and themselves.
    “Good. Berga, you hold onto my skirt — tight! Theo, you hold on to Berga’s, and Laita, you bring up the rear.” Eyes wide with fright, their heads bobbed dutifully. “Nobody let go, not for a moment. Follow me.”
    Looking outside once more, Gigi listened. The fighting had moved to a different part of camp, but the fires surrounded them. Which was the best way to go? Holding a corner of the soaked blanket over her mouth with one hand, and her knife in the other, Gigi made a decision and started forward.
    They crossed the open area and reached the tents on the far side, but the choking blackness made progress almost impossible, except by touch. The wind gusted, and Gigi knew it was the hunger of the flames, sucking in the air around them.
    They were all coughing hard, and Berga seemed especially bothered, but her grip was still strong. Good girl! Gigi realized they had to move faster, because her skin was feeling scorched, the fire close, too close. She spun around, dropped to her knees, and screamed over the roar of the inferno. “Berga, get on my back and hold on, tight as you can. Laita, Theo, get down and keep your heads as low as possible.”
    Scrambling on hands and knees through the caustic, oily, evil darkness, Gigi felt like the smoke was alive, purposefully malevolent, seeking her out, and wanting her dead. Soon, her world was reduced to simply putting one hand in front of the other and moving forward, always forward.
    “Jolie!”
    It was Theodoric. Gigi looked sideways, and the boy’s blackened face loomed close.
    “We are past the camp — we should run now!”
    Gigi looked around. Indeed, they were in weeds, and the ground had started to rise. She nodded and grabbed his hand, then turned, and looked behind him. “Laita?”
    “I don’t know where she is,” Theodoric said. “We had to let go when we started to crawl, and then, and then she just stopped being there.”
    Lowering her head in sadness, Gigi knew she couldn’t go back for her. She had to get the children to safety. “Come on, run, Theo! Berga, hold on tightly!”
    They stood and stumbled up the hill together, and soon the thick, impenetrable dark turned to gray, then suddenly cleared, almost as abruptly as leaving one room and going into another.
    Gigi took a deep, sweet breath of frosty air, but her chest seized, and she started coughing again. The kids were hacking, too. She dropped to her knees and looked up. The clear winter sky was indescribably, painfully blue. Her eyes streamed tears as she continued to cough. She glanced around and saw no one else. Were they the only ones to make it to safety?
    She looked back at the sprawling camp. Fires blazed in the near ground, and she could still hear the shouts of battle farther away.
    “Berga?” Gigi asked when she finally stopped coughing.
    The girl shifted on her back, but her grip was still tight. “Where’s Mama?”
    “She’s fighting the Romans,” Theodoric piped in.
    Gigi studied the hills. “We need to find a place to hide.”
    “I know a cave,” Theodoric said excitedly. “We’ve played there all week.”
    Gigi nodded, and together they staggered away.
    • • •
    Magnus, where are you? Where are you!
    Gigi awoke with a cough and didn’t recognize her surroundings in the dim light. She lay back, heart racing, remembering her nightmare. Magnus had been there, just beyond her reach — she could hear his shouts — but she couldn’t see him because of the smoke …
    “Mama,” Berga