The Fallen by Jack Ziebell

relatively easily along the smooth hospital floor, aided by her purple velour jumpsuit. 
    They didn’t even try the elevators and pushed the door to the stairwell open.  Smoke wafted through, other floors were also on fire below, but the fire doors were keeping the worst of it out. 
    Brian wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.  “Christ, this is a nightmare.”
    Marius glared at him.
    “Tabby,” said Brian, “Can you try and hold your Mom’s head as we slide her down the stairs?”
    She nodded.
    Painfully slowly they made their way down, step by step, Brian pulling the mother’s feet and Marius trying to control her descent by holding her arms, also doing his best not to drop his lighter or set himself alight.  Tabby, coughing heavily from the smoke, was struggling to protect her mother’s head from the steps but it was already bleeding from several deep gashes.  As they neared the ground floor, something on a higher floor exploded and the building shook.  The girl screamed but Brian and Marius didn’t pause and continued their descent with renewed speed, finally reaching the stairwell exit.
    The lobby, now only dimly lit by moonlight through the large glass doors, was filled with motionless people, slumped in chairs or lying on the floor where they fell.  The smell was overpowering, Brian noticed that everyone had at best wet themselves, including the woman they were carrying.  Marius grabbed a wheelchair next to an old lady who looked liked she’d fallen from it badly, limbs awkwardly bent.  He straightened them out, more out of respect than hope it would help her. 
    “What’s wrong with them?” the girl cried, “Why won’t they wake up?”
    “I don’t know,” Brian lied; he had a very rough idea of what happened, some sort of interference with the brain by the swathe, knocking askew the electric nerve impulses that keep us ticking over, temporarily disabling minds or worse.  He didn’t want to think about worse.
    “Here, you can push your Mom outside, she’d be happy to know you are helping her.” It was all Brian could think of to say to calm her.  “Marius, we’ve got to get as many people out as possible.”
    He turned to go back into the stairwell but could see through the glass in the door that it was already filled with thick smoke. 
    “Don’t bother – it’s not worth it,” said Marius.  “Take everyone out of the lobby, say a prayer for the rest.”
    They spent over two hours dragging people from the lobby waiting area, reception desk and ground floor café.  They laid them out in the parking lot, from where they could see smoke billowing from the higher floors.  When they finished they collapsed with exhaustion, backs to a lamppost.
    “Now what?” said Brian.
    Marius was resting his head in his hands.  “Now I am too tired to think, but from the looks of it, this is everywhere.”
    Brian scanned the horizon, he could see smoke rising from different parts of the city.  Beyond the car park, the cars on
    Main Street were stopped at various angles.  He could just make out the absence of engine sound; strange as he thought a few accelerator pedals would have had feet wedged lifeless and heavy upon them.
    Tabby was sitting a little away from them, stroking her mother’s hair but staring vacantly into the distance, to the hills past the smoke.  It was too much for any of them to take in.  He turned to Marius, who had lit a cigarette and was looking thoughtful; too tired to think?  He knew Marius too well for that to be true, the man never switched off.
    “How long do you think until they wake up?” asked Brian.
    “Who knows? Either they wake up in a few hours and start cleaning up the mess or maybe they’ll never wake up.  Rule of threes will apply.”
    “Rule of threes?”
    “Yah, you know; we die in three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food.”
    “Oh,” said Brian, “You forgot three month’s without