And around us the rocks were still crumbling, some thundering near us; the searing heat and debris choking me as I shouted, voice breaking. Sara. Sara. Sara.

Everyone was desperately pulling rocks out from the opening, where cracks of sunlight shone through. Mark and the scientist were climbing from the south, and looked like they would be here in a minute - 

"ANNA!" Her faint scream pierced through the darkness. Sara was on a ledge by the outcropping Nicholai had just climbed, her leg at an odd angle, crushed under a boulder. I started to run - 

"No!" Jon caught me. I flung his hand away, turned to scratch at him, scratch his fucking eyes out, but he grabbed both of my wrists and held them behind my back. 

"Anna, you can't," he said, and I was screaming at him, incoherent words that had no meaning other than the fury in the sound.

"Look at the fire," I think he said, but I felt it too - the incoming heat, my dry throat and cracking lips, and already people were streaming out the small opening they had made, clinbing over each other to get out to safety. 

Nicholai was running to us. Mark had only just started to climb, and he hesitated at my sister's cry. For a moment I had a wild hope, maybe, perhaps - 

But Sara was looking at me and her eyes were huge, terrified, and I could read her lips - help me, Anna, save me. 

Mark made an odd jerk, as if to start climbing down. At that moment the lava crept over the ridge, and the air seemed to boil. Jon grabbed me and started to run to the opening, his jaw set, ignoring my struggles. His lips, pressed tight, were trembling. Mark was scrambling up the cliff. I was still looking at her, into the wild frightened eyes of my younger sister, as the lava swept over her.


I'll be home - Meghan Trainor