Ash like Snow…

Late autumn and early winter. The snow hadn't arrived yet, but the chill had already closed in, striking everything with its frost. It was quiet — not surprising, as everyone preferred to stay indoors and avoid being hit by an icy "bullet." On this day, even nature seemed mournful, as if it were holding back but ready to burst into tears at any moment. The sky was overcast with clouds, and a strong wind rose, blowing away the last remnants of grey residue. Ash fell slowly from the sky, taking the place of snowflakes. It swirled in a slow dance, settling on the surroundings. The grass, the trees, and several nearby buildings were covered in a grey shroud. A guy with blue eyes emerged from the building, which at that moment was black, with steam still rising from some spots under the pressure of cold water and the biting chill. He wore a police uniform, and in his arms was a small boy, onto whom a special mask had been carefully placed. The little one lay with his eyes closed as the policeman handed him over to his nurse friend and, swaying slightly, stepped away from everyone. He approached the green trees, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible — after all, carbon monoxide from a ruptured gas burner isn't the best substance for breathing. The guy leaned against a tree and watched the commotion of the people. Soon, an older guy, a man one might say, in a fireman's uniform, ran up to him. — How are you? Maybe you should be examined? — The fireman spoke anxiously. — Everything's fine, Roy, don't worry. I just need to breathe some fresh air, — the younger one said and smiled. — Alright, I'll believe you this time. Only if you promise to go to Amber and ask for a check-up, — Roy replied, his voice still filled with concern. Poli nodded, then said: — But a little later. She's busy with the victims right now. The elder agreed and stood by his friend. The policeman coughed occasionally as he breathed in the fresh air, while the fireman watched his colleague and team leader with constant worry. The former also felt a headache, fatigue, and slight suffocation. A couple of minutes passed like this; Poli kept coughing, having apparently inhaled too much carbon monoxide. Roy couldn't take it anymore; he grabbed the guy by the wrist and pulled him toward the girl: — I’ve had enough of your coughing, let’s go! — Roy, but Amber is… — Busy? And who’s going to look after your health? — The man persisted, scolding the younger one like a child. The wind died down, leaving the two of them in silence. But then, just when it seemed they only had to turn the corner, something happened that no one expected. The policeman began to cough violently, gasping for more oxygen through his mouth. He was suffocating. — Poli? The fireman caught his falling friend and slowly sank to his knees with him. Apparently, the dose of gas was too high. Roy pulled out a small oxygen canister and gave it to Poli. The younger one took it, but his hands had grown somewhat numb, and because of the dry, heavy coughing, he couldn't breathe properly. The man helped the guy, but that canister was clearly not enough for such severe poisoning. — Poli, just hang on, okay? — The elder pleaded with the policeman. A few seconds passed; the blue-eyed man still coughed occasionally, and the amber-eyed one propped him up against the wall. His eyes, like his body, wouldn't obey him. They were closing on their own. — Roy… — Poli quietly whispered his friend's name. He smiled, looking at his colleague. — I love you. His voice trembled, grey ash drifted in the air, settling like sediment, and his ears rang. The clouds in the sky grew darker. Roy pressed the victim to himself and whispered: — I… I love you too, just don't die… The response was a smile. So bright and warm, so alive. His blue eyes shimmered with moisture and then slowly closed. A tear rolled down his cheek. — Poli, hang on, I beg you! Amber… She’ll help you, okay? — The fireman took the policeman in his arms and ran toward the nurse. The younger one's breathing grew weaker and quieter with every passing second. The recently calmed wind began to blow with renewed force, as if trying to help or at least convey a single-word thought: "Live." The elder ran up to his friend; she had finished with the others long ago, and the onlookers had dispersed. — Amber! — Roy? What hap…? — The girl didn't have time to finish, seeing everything with her own eyes. — Oh God. Amber quickly found an oxygen mask and placed it on the leader. The man gently laid the guy onto the stretcher that their mutual friend had so thoughtfully prepared. A minute passed, then two… Poli's face was pale, and he was not breathing. White snow fell from the sky, mixed with dark ash. Snow — the frozen tears of nature, mourning its hero. Ash — the goodbyes and unspoken words, the end and the unlived days of the fallen. A lone tear rolled down a cheek, followed by another. Amber turned around, her eyes wide. She checked for a pulse. There was none. No pulse, no friend, and no leader. — N-no… Poli… — the girl whispers quietly, while the man had already collapsed to his knees, burying his head in his hands on the cot, weeping silently. Tears fell of their own accord. Why? For what? Why now? Why him? Why couldn't he have been given just a few more hours? A mountain of questions and not a single answer. Silence. Helly ran up to the two of them. At first, the pilot didn't understand what was happening, but seeing the person who had become a close friend, an older brother to him, he was struck with horror. The pilot fell to his knees. He was shaking.

***

Ash, like snow, fell from the sky, leaving behind only sorrow and lost lives. Ash — the goodbyes and unspoken words, the end and the unlived days of the fallen. There were always many gifts and flowers on that grave. Various cards and drawings from children. Every spring, delicate flowers bloomed on the tree beside the headstone. Every summer, sunlight fell upon the slab. Every autumn, nature mourned the departed. And every winter, snow carefully covered this place and the man who will remain in our hearts forever. Snow — the frozen tears of nature, mourning its hero. The good people always leave first…