Onward, we press toward the fire, solemn as Thanatos, feet dragging in the ashes. I can feel the heat licking at my forehead, my cheeks, little wisps of my hair. My stomach rocks, but I push forward, even as the bulky hose in my hand pulls at my shoulder, straining the socket, threatening my grip.

I grit my teeth, hard. I have to keep going. After all, there’s no other choice.

No one believed the world would ever become this volatile. I remember the way we would scoff at the newspapers, call the scientists conspiracists, leave the lights on too long, ignore the gray clouds in the air. And all the while, the Earth was pushed farther and farther toward its breaking point, until it finally decided it had had enough.

Now fire falls mercilessly from the sky. Nature’s cannonballs, each blazing raindrop sending shockwaves through the electric city, swallowing warehouses, offices, factories, homes. First the sovereigns sent the soldiers, the guards, then us, the firemen, with our great turnout gear and charcoal boots, our hoses and trucks turned weapons against the angry, bleeding planet.

I point mine now at a cluster of infant flames, blooming around what might’ve once been a flower box. Beside me, my colleague Saoirse’s breaths quicken, laborious and tense, like an old man’s. Her eyes are dull; I can see the sweat sticking to her face even through the thick of her shield mask.

I don’t know her very well, but I’ve lingered around her long enough to know she’s never been this afraid. Not on the job, at least. I’ve watched her into burning buildings with a poker face, then crack a joke about it over coffee the next morning.

But this time, it isn’t just a burning building. It’s the end of the word, the edge of the empire, the collapse of the human race. We’re not here to save lives; we’re here to plug a hole in an already crumbled wall, and there’s no heroism in delaying the inevitable.

I meet her gaze and she stares back, with quivering honey eyes, and I want to tell her everything in that moment. How her snarky comments make my heart light up, even on the darkest days. How, despite her cold exterior, I really admire her goodness, the way she always volunteers to save pet cats stuck in trees, but never had the guts to let her know. How, for once, I’m scared of the fire too, because I don’t want to lose the little moments with her.

Instead, I simply take my free hand and place it firmly on her elbow.

“Be easy,” I say, and onward, we press toward the fire.