Free Wild by Jill Sorenson

stuff was on fire. Everywhere. Flaming debris was flying through the air, catching the branches of nearby trees. The earthquake had probably caused some pipelines to break, because the downtown area was going off like bottle rockets.
    Forget the tsunami—they needed to escape the fire.
    Mateo pulled her toward the only shelter available. It was some kind of heavy-duty storage shed made of concrete blocks. The roof might be flammable, but they didn’t have much choice. They’d get incinerated if they stayed out in the open. The pavilions were already burning. Orange cinders were dancing on the wind and floating across the sky, like monarch butterflies. Her nostrils stung from chemical fumes.
    The door must have been damaged in the quake, because it came right off the hinges. They scrambled inside, coughing. She squinted at the strange interior. There were fat blue pipes, wider than her waist in circumference, imbedded in the concrete floor.
    “Are these gas pipes?” she gasped, horrified.
    “Agua,” Mateo said.
    That meant water. Blue pipes. It made sense. She tried to shush a distraught Emma by pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. To Chloe’s left, there was a set of aluminum steps leading down to a second floor. Chloe was worried about the pipes exploding, but she was more worried about being able to breathe, and the main room was filling with smoke. They went down the steps, moving carefully. The lower section was similar to the upper, with blue pipes. It was dark and cramped, but the air was clean. For the time being, they were safe.
    Her knees almost buckled with relief.
    Mateo helped her sit down in the corner. When their eyes adjusted to the meager light, he supplied Emma with more gummy bears, chatting in a cheerful voice. Chloe could have kissed him. But she was tired, and suddenly cold. Her T-shirt and jeans were still damp. She touched the wet sock around her thigh, hoping the bleeding had slowed.
    Mateo removed a hooded sweatshirt from his beach bag.
    “Thank you,” she said in a hoarse voice, putting it on.
    He also had a child’s T-shirt for Emma. Chloe took off her ladybug top first. She tucked the fabric under her bottom like a diaper, figuring any barrier was better than none. Then she helped Emma don the dry shirt.
    “Flower,” Emma said, touching the hibiscus decal on the front.
    The firestorm raged on outside. Chloe could hear trees falling and wind blowing. Again, she wondered if the world was ending. It was a maudlin thought, but her mind often traveled that direction. She’d suffered from depression after Emma was born. Before, as well, although her parents had called it “teen angst.” Getting involved with Lyle had fed her self-destructive tendencies. Breaking up with him sent her into a downward spiral.
    Why was she alive?
    She hadn’t wanted to be, for months at a time. Her mother had taken care of Emma while Chloe slept all day. She hadn’t gone to school or work. She hadn’t even left the house. She’d done nothing but lay in bed.
    It was difficult for her to believe she deserved to be here. Someone who’d tried to take her own life had been spared above others. For what? To witness the real end? Maybe this was the ultimate punishment for her carelessness and self-harm. Watching her child suffer and witnessing a fiery apocalypse.
    She began to tremble, overwhelmed with emotion. They’d just survived another incredibly traumatic event. She didn’t know if they’d make it out of this temporary hideaway. The city was burning down around them. People who’d been trapped inside their homes, who hadn’t been able to escape fast enough, were now dying.
    Chloe wasn’t equipped to take this in stride. She didn’t have the temperament to stay strong during a catastrophe. She couldn’t handle seeing Emma in pain or in danger. Shrugging off death and destruction was beyond her.
    Mateo gave Emma a keychain with a red penlight. She pointed it at the wall, making red dots