He opened his eyes slowly.
Burnt grass. Gravels. Rail track.
Memories and pain returned at the same time. He rolled out, trying to sit. He heard an explosion far in the distance. Fire were everywhere, radiated its heat. The wind was freezing. He got up on his feet slowly. It was almost dawn. There was something wrong with his body. The pain subdued easily. His wounds healed rapidly. A tiny hand held his hand. He did not realise it at first, until the little girl spoke, barely heard.
“I thought we’d never come back from that one,” she looked at the wreckage.
He looked into her wary eyes. He did not understand how it happened. They were the only survivor.
The train was speeding uncontrollably, startled and roused him from sleep. A tiny hand touched him on the shoulder. It was the little girl from the street. He got up in a sudden movement, but the girl still wore her gloves.
“We have to jump off the train now,” she cried out.
This post was published as response to Daily Prompt challenge. Today’s theme was Use It or Lose It