One. Logan finds only one half-empty jug of water left. It may be enough for tonight. A sigh escapes him as his hand drags down his face, feeling nothing but dry, cracking skin. His legs are aching, and his eyelids are feeling thicker as time goes on. It’s been more than 24 hours since he last slept. Every creak of the floorboards, every hum of the fan, was keeping darkness and dreams out of reach.

Logan lethargically moves towards the front window, peeking outside to see no sign of movement across the dusty terrain. He leans against the frame, trying to make sense of the quiet. Mom and Dad were supposed to be back by now. Where are they? Shaking his head, Logan goes back into the kitchen, staring down at the note his parents left on the table a day prior. ‘Went to fill the jugs, be back tomorrow afternoon. -Mom.’ The remaining jug sits in the center; it’s plastic, warm to the touch. He stands in silence, contemplating whether just one drink would be okay; even the thought makes his throat ache. No, he reminds himself. Not yet. He has to make it last.

Logan wipes his hands on his pants and glances at the clock. Time doesn’t feel real. Since his parents had left, night had already come and gone, and was soon to return again. The only thing that feels real is the suffocating heat that engulfs the house and the surrounding area. A tiny shuffle drifts through the hall, causing Logan to glance away from the clock.

“Logan…”

A little boy steps into view, his feet bathing in the dust-coated floorboards. For a moment, Logan smiles, watching Levi clutch Bun Bun to his chest like a shield.

“I’m thirsty.” Logan kneels down beside Levi, trying not to let his own fatigue show. “Here,” he says, pouring a small glass of water for his brother. Levi drinks slowly, the careful kind of sip you take when you know it might be the last for hours.

“Thanks…” Levi’s voice is soft, almost swallowed by the heavy air. “Will mommy and daddy tuck me in tonight?” The optimism in his eyes makes Logan’s heart tighten in his chest.

“No, not tonight. They are just running a bit late.” Logan ruffles through his little brother’s hair and picks up the stained stuffed-animal bunny. “I think Bun Bun here likes me better anyways. Don’t you, Bun Bun?” He makes the bunny nod. Levi lets out a soft chuckle.

Logan doesn’t go back to sleep after tucking Levi in.

While looking up, counting the fan’s rattling clicks, he listens for the sound of his parents walking through the door. It never comes. From the hallway, Levi’s soft breathing drifts into uneven little bursts, interrupted now and then by a quiet mumble in his sleep. Levi had fallen asleep fast after being tucked in, one arm flung over Bun Bun, his fingers twisted into the rabbit’s matted ear.

Minutes pass by. Or maybe hours.

For a minute, Logan closes his eyes before being greeted by a smell that has visited him before. Maybe it is the dust and heat playing tricks on him. Then it sharpens. Around him, the air turns bitter and dry, like something that’s been left in the sun for too long. With suspicion, Logan sits up and listens in silence. The fan coughs up one last death rattle. His heart begins to sink lower and lower as his throat burns with anxiety. He pushes himself to his feet and moves toward the window.

The view solidifies the knot in his stomach. A dull glow stains the distance, pulsing, like hell itself was coming to life. As his body grows tense, ash begins to drift past the glass, floating like snow that forgot how to be cold. Logan breaks away from a heat-fueled haze, turning his attention to the hallway. “Levi!” His voice cracks under the fear choking him. The house makesa low, aching sound as it adjusts to the rising heat. He makes for the bedroom, already movingfaster than his legs want to carry him, his feet striking the ground with violence. His own voice echoed in his head.

Wake him up. Grab him. Go.

Stumbling into the bedroom, Logan wakes up Levi. The boy rubs his eyes, still half-asleep.

“What’s going on-”

“We have to go, now,” Logan grabs Levi’s wrist before he can protest.

“Logan-”

There’s no time. Logan tugs Levi out to the hall, and Levi no longer fights the situation. A sense of faith grows inside Logan when his eyes meet the front door. Without hesitation, he jerks it open to see the growing flames greeting them in the yard. For just a second, he freezes, contemplating what to do next. Scanning the room for answers, Logan spots a window leading to the backyard. As he hastily makes his way to the window, every second stretches too long, and every crackle of the fire feels like a countdown he couldn’t slow.

With the sound of angry gods roaring behind them, Logan and Levi climb out atop the broken glass decorating the backyard. Logan’s panic overrides the pain from his cut-up soles, each step mixing dirt with liquid, but adrenaline drags him ahead, his eyes scanning the enclosing inferno around the yard. Just. Keep. Moving. His lungs feel like sandpaper, and the air burns as he breathes.

“We’ll be okay, Levi, we just gotta keep moving,” Logan fights out, with the suffocating smoke making it harder and harder to draw air. Levi doesn’t respond, his eyes fixed forward towards the empty hills ahead of them.

The boys ran until their bodies gave out, their knees buckling beneath them. Away from the beast, Logan collapses to the ground, dragging Levi with him. Sobbing raggedly, chest heaving, eyes empty from dehydration, he whispers, “We… we made it… we’re okay…”

He lifts his head up, and the world stretches and bends around him. Levi doesn’t move. Blinking through the haze in confusion, Logan turns around to see his brother lying face down in the dirt. “Levi? Hey buddy, come on...talk to me!” Panic comes back as he shakes his brother. “Come on now, Levi, please-“ His voice catches in his throat as he lifts Levi’s hand. A feeling of unease crawls up his spine. Why doesn’t he feel warm? And why is he so…light? Despite every muscle weakened from the long day, he lifts Levi into his arms with ease. Logan can’t quite place it, but something isn’t right. Levi’s form is unnervingly limp. Staring down into his arms, he rubs his thumb against Levi’s unusually soft and smooth hand, everything moving in slow motion. Logan blinks hard, trying to make sense of what his exhausted mind is seeing and feeling. His grip tightens, and his eyes begin to burn.

“No… no… no no no no!” Logan protests, his voice breaking, as he shakes the small figure violently. His stomach churns while his chest tights, and his mind tries to gather itself. Something isn’t right. Memories of the fire flash through him. The screams, the heat, the smoke, all jagged and chaotic.

As his fingers curl around Levis hand, he realizes what feels wrong. He isn’t holding onto flesh and bone, he’s holding onto the soft, white fur of Levi’s best friend. Bun Bun.

Battling himself, Logan wills his battered body up onto its bloodied feet, screaming his little brother’s name. He lurches back towards the house, urging his crumbling limbs to move faster. There in the distance, he sees something he hopes is his imagination. The house is getting eaten by the flames. Falling back onto the ground, a dry, ragged sob rips through him. His body trembles as he presses the bunny to his chest, rocking slightly, letting out guiltful screams of anger and pain. For a long, heavy moment, all he can do is stare at it, unable to move, swallowed by the weight of what he lost, and what he still carries in his arms.

In the making of this short story, ChatGPT was used for light clarification and minor suggestions. As the process continued on, it was removed due to altering the direction and tone of the story. The final piece was written without any AI assistance, but with the help of friends and peers.