• “Tuesday. Tuesday Munroe.” He smiled, letting go of my hand and motioning for me to follow him. The ash storm was less violent here, most likely because it was farther away from the center of the explosion. I could actually make out shapes more than ten feet in front of me, but still had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the changing landscape. Four emergency trucks were arranged in a semicircle in front of us, hulking pieces of metal with a red cross symbol stained on every side. We headed towards a truck on the far end of the truck semicircle which stood out from the others due to its sloppily painted cross with the word “HELPERS” painted in all caps underneath.

    “Wait here, Mr. Munroe. Madison, Quin, why don’t you treat our patient for any injuries?” The man gave both another pat on the head before walking off to the next emergency truck. I watched him waddle towards it and knock on the side. A tug on my sleeve caused me to look down. Blue eyes stared up at me.

    “Mister, mister, come with us.” I followed the boy, Madison, to the back of the truck where the gate-like door that normally covered the back was fully lifted up. A large open area inside was exposed with multiple seats, first aid boxes, and beds in sight. Madison sat me down at the nearest bench before scurrying to the wall of first aid boxes. He had to jump to reach the lowest one, but still couldn’t quite get a grip on it. Quin came over to help him, her brown eyes narrowed at me as she handed him the box. I’m not doing this for you, she seemed to be saying.

    To be honest, I didn’t need them to do this at all.

  • Tuesday