Fallout

Chapter 1 - Cam

4 years ago…

The air around me stilled, and the ringing in my ears swelled into a deafening roar, drowning out the world until all that remained was silence – and the sharp thrum of panic.

I blinked, the motion sharp and uncoordinated, like my body was still trying to figure out how to move. My chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, but the air felt thick, too heavy. My hands pressed against something cold—rough—and I flinched, a sharp pain biting into my palms. Blood, warm and sticky, seeped through my fingers. My head pounded, and my stomach twisted into a tight knot as a wave of nausea rolled over me.

Where was I?

My eyes fluttered open. Blurry. My heart stuttered in my chest, and I pushed harder against the jagged surface beneath me. Glass—shards of it—crunched under my palms, digging into the skin. I tried to move, but my legs—my whole body—felt like they were weighted down by something invisible.

Then I remembered.

The crash.

The sound of twisted metal, the scream of tires, the way the world had flipped upside down. I had been thrown from the car. Ejected, like a ragdoll tossed aside. The others—Samantha, Ryan, Diego, Leah—hadn’t been so lucky.

I forced myself to sit up, my breath catching in my throat. My vision flickered, black spots dancing before my eyes as I swayed unsteadily on my hands and knees. My fingers scraped against the cold, rough asphalt, and a fresh wave of pain shot up my arm as I struggled to lift myself higher.

Don’t collapse.

Don’t stop.

I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to.

There was a pulse in my head—something insistent, a constant pressure, like a drumbeat urging me to move. To do something. The panic clawed at my chest, but there was something else, too—something deeper. A voice, weak but certain, whispered at the edges of my mind: They’re still alive. You have to help them. You have to save them.

My body screamed in protest, but I ignored it. I planted my hands flat against the ground and pushed myself to my feet. I swayed again, but this time, I didn’t fall.

I had to go back. I had to get to them.

With every step, the world around me twisted and shifted, but I focused on one thing: their faces. Their voices. The memories of laughter and joking and warmth—all of it felt so distant now, like it belonged to someone else.

I staggered forward, dragging my legs, forcing them to carry me, and the sharp sting of pain shot through my body with every movement. My ribs felt like they were going to shatter, and my mouth tasted of blood and metal. But I ignored it.

They needed me.

I stumbled over the wreckage—the twisted remains of the car—the sharp edges of metal jagged like broken teeth. I could hear the low moans of pain, distant but unmistakable. Their voices, quiet, each one a desperate thread pulling me closer.

Samantha.

Ryan.

Diego.

Leah.

I didn’t know who to reach for first. It didn’t matter. I crawled through the debris, my fingers brushing over torn clothes, shattered glass, and bodies that felt too still.

I finally reached Samantha. Her eyes were wide, but they were vacant. Lifeless. Her body was bent at an impossible angle, and I knew, deep down, that she wasn’t coming back.

I swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down my throat. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t give up.

Please.

I shook her, desperate. My hands trembled as I brushed her hair away from her face. Blood coated my palms. I didn’t care. I tried again, harder this time, but she didn’t respond.

Ryan.

I turned, crawling over to him, feeling my body give way with each movement. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, but he was still breathing, shallow and ragged. I put my hand to his chest, relief flooding through me as I felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath my fingertips.

He was alive.

But for how much longer?

I pressed my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. Please. I willed him to wake up. The air felt thick, my head spun with the weight of it all. There wasn’t much time. I knew that.

Help is coming. The thought was so small, so faint, but I clung to it. I whispered it over and over to myself, even though I knew the truth: it might be too late for some of them.

Ryan coughed, a low rasp, and his eyes flickered open. He stared at me, confused, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer, trying to hold him up.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

He nodded weakly, eyes clouded with pain. I could barely even hear his voice through the ringing in my ears.

I had to get him out of here. I had to get all of them out of here.

But I couldn’t. There was no time.

Samantha was gone. I couldn’t save her.

And I didn’t know if I could save the rest.

I pushed against Ryan’s chest, trying to get him to sit up, but his body flopped uselessly against mine. His weight was too much.

God, no. Not him too.

I glanced back at the wreck, my gaze landing on the twisted remains of the car. It felt like a sickening mockery of everything we’d been—everything we’d been doing just hours ago. Laughter, music, the plans for tomorrow. Now, it was nothing but wreckage.

I had to stay focused.

Diego. Leah.

I forced myself to stand again, my legs trembling as I made my way toward the others. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t. But my legs moved. My feet dragged. One step, then another.

It felt like hours, though I knew it couldn’t have been. The world around me was still spinning. My chest was a hollow cavern of guilt. Every breath was a reminder that I was still here. Still breathing. But they weren’t.

Leah lay at the far edge of the wreckage. She was in a position I couldn’t quite make out, but I knew I wouldn’t like it. Diego was close by, his body barely clinging to life. My chest clenched with horror, but I reached for Leah first, pulling her limp body into my lap. I whispered her name, trying to ignore the way her head lolled against me, unresponsive.

I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t lose anyone else.

I pressed my fingers to her throat, praying for a pulse. There was nothing.

I screamed, but the sound didn’t leave my throat. My chest heaved as I fought to keep my composure. Why wasn’t anyone coming?

I dragged Diego closer, my arms burning from the effort. His breath was shallow, each exhale like it could be his last. I couldn’t even bring myself to check his pulse. I just needed him to wake up, to tell me this wasn’t real.

But I couldn’t. There was nothing left I could do.

The sirens in the distance grew louder, a sound I had been waiting for, praying for. I sat back against the wreckage, my body trembling, staring blankly at the destruction around me.

Help was coming. But it was too late for some of them.

Too late for me.

The sirens were getting closer now, a faint whine that scraped against my skull. They were coming, the sound growing louder, sharper, more insistent. But the relief that should’ve followed never came. It only tightened the knot in my chest.

Too late.

I gripped Diego's hand, my fingers cold and slick with blood, my own and his. I didn’t know how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they were still here. Still alive.

Not all of them.

I glanced back at Samantha, her body motionless, too still. Too unnatural. I closed my eyes for a moment, blocking out the image of her lifeless form. I couldn’t focus on that. I had to focus on the others. I had to make sure I didn’t lose them too.

I can’t lose anyone else.

“Diego,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. His name felt foreign on my tongue.

I shook him again, harder this time, my fingers gripping his shoulders with a desperation I didn’t know I had. His body barely reacted, his breathing shallow but still there. I should’ve been happy about that. Grateful. But the weight of what was happening—the fact that I couldn’t do anything more—crushed me.

I could feel the tremble in my legs as I continued to hold him, my arms wrapped tightly around his torso, as if by sheer will I could keep him from slipping away. Please, God, don’t let him die.

I glanced at Leah, her body lying across the wreckage. Blood was already staining her clothes. Her once vibrant eyes were now glassed over. No, I wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept it. She couldn’t be gone. Not like this.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, the terror clawing its way up, burning in my chest. I crawled over to her, feeling the sharp stones of the road digging into my knees as I moved, ignoring the searing pain in my legs, in my ribs, everywhere.

I reached for Leah, my hand trembling as I cradled her face, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Her skin was cold. Too cold. I pressed my fingers against her throat, praying, willing a pulse to beat beneath my fingertips. But there was nothing.

Nothing.

The world seemed to fade away. The sirens, the wreckage, the sound of my pulse thudding in my ears. It was all too much. I slumped beside her, unable to keep the tears at bay any longer. The weight of it all crashed down, too heavy for my fragile chest.

The wreckage of our lives—what had been a perfect night—lay before me in the form of twisted metal, shattered glass, and broken bodies.

I thought I was screaming, but the sound was too far away, as if my body had lost the ability to connect with the reality around me.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

God, please.

But it was real.

It was too real.

This is your fault.

The voice in my head cut through the haze of panic like a knife. A cold, insidious whisper I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t my fault. It couldn’t be. I had tried. I had done everything I could. I’d gotten out. I’d tried to save them.

But deep down, a darker truth bubbled to the surface. A truth I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I hadn’t been able to do enough.

I hadn't been able to save them.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, the sobs coming in broken gasps, but I forced myself to stop. There was no time for this. There was no time for weakness.

Ryan stirred again, his hand twitching, and I snapped my head to look at him. He was barely conscious, but his eyes flickered open. I couldn’t tell if he saw me or if his mind was somewhere else entirely. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

His hand reached out toward me—slow, clumsy, but there.

I crawled over and grasped his hand, my fingers shaking as I squeezed it, wishing I could give him strength, wishing I could will him to get better, to wake up and take control of the situation. But there was nothing I could do.

Ryan's voice cracked as he whispered, “Cam… Where…?”

“Shh. It’s okay,” I said, though nothing felt okay. “Help is coming, Ryan. Help is coming. Just stay with me.”

He squeezed my hand weakly, his breathing ragged, and his head fell back against the ground. I looked down at him, holding on tightly to the small thread of hope that had started to fray.

Help is coming.

It didn’t feel like enough.

My gaze swept over the wreckage again, the broken pieces of a night that was supposed to be filled with laughter and promises of tomorrow. Tomorrow. I felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat at the thought.

Tomorrow was never going to come.

“Hang in there,” I whispered to the others, even though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to them anymore or to myself. “Please, don’t leave me.”

The world felt like it was falling away. Like the earth itself was cracking beneath my feet, and I was being swallowed whole.

But then, faintly, like a distant echo, I heard it. The sirens. So close now.

A dim light flickered in the distance, and for the first time since the crash, I dared to hope.

The darkness was still there, closing in, but maybe—just maybe—there was a way out.

The sound of footsteps crunching on the asphalt reached my ears, and I turned my head sharply. It was them. The medics. The help I’d prayed for.

I barely had the strength to stand as they rushed toward me, their voices urgent but distant as they worked around me, pulling me away from Ryan, from the wreckage that had swallowed us all.

I wanted to scream at them to help them. To save them. But my body wouldn’t obey. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

Then the world went black again.