Chem plant

 

    Grenada sat down on the ultra modern lobby chair at the exact moment that the chemical plant exploded.  The initial tremor made her feel like the marble floor had gone rubbery underneath her feet, but upon looking up in surprise, she could see the concern in every person around her.  A half second later, the lobby’s glass doors erupted into Grenada’s back.  She was blown all the way past the reception desk and into the elevator hallway.  The chair came with her, their posture barely changing in mid air, until the end, when it landed on her head.  Grenada’s back was on fire from shards of the building buried into her skin like shrapnel.  She couldn’t breathe.  Up until this point in her life, Grenada had never once struggled to breathe, but now, she struggled with all her might.  A sliver of air slipped past her throat and into her lungs.  She pulled for another, her hands wrapped around her throat as if to support the excruciating process.  Her legs kicked and spasmed, her back aflame with both acute and widespread pain.  She stole another sliver of a breath, this one slightly bigger then the last.  Just enough to taste the powdery air.  The alien taste of the air awakened the inside her mouth, rejuvenating her throat and helping her take another strained breath.  She was lying on the ground, but she couldn’t tell where exactly she was at first.  Her eyes reactivated and began sending information to the brain.  Dust.  Or smoke.  It was everywhere.  Someone was kneeling over a body on the ground.  There was yelling.  Yelling.  Grenada’s ears reactivated and she began to hear again.  There was a man in front of her yelling, someone behind her was groaning, and there were screams coming from every direction.