Luke sat himself against the wall as gingerly as he could, but his aching muscles continued to protest his every move. Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a beat-up carton of cigarettes. By some miracle, or perhaps in some cruel twist of fate, he managed to find a cigarette still in passable condition. His fingers fumbled with the lighter until it finally lit.

Leaning forward to meet the flame, Luke lit the cigarette in his busted lips. He resisted the urge to take a long drag and settled for mindful little puffs. Collapsing back against the wall, he let out the smoke in a slow, even sigh. He held his pounding head in his free hand as the pain gradually dulled. The familiar scent and taste were already starting to take the edge off. The smoke rolled off his lips and caressed his face like a woman's fingers tracing his jawline. He took another careful drag, doing his best to make it last.

It was much better than the smoke coming off the burning debris. That smoke was thick and dark. It burned in his lungs and stung his eyes.

Luke pushed out a jet of smoke and watched it scatter. The delicate wisps danced through the air like dandelion seeds before dissipating and fading away. The smoke around him didn't disappear, though. It persisted and reached up into the sky, looming above him like a thundercloud waiting to strike him down.

He let the cigarette burn in his lips at its own pace, watching the thin line of smoke rise in hypnotic swirls. The sweet aroma wrapped around him and soothed the burning that had invaded his lungs. Closing his eyes, he indulged in the smell and taste of the cigarette smoke rolling off his tongue.

Luke forced his eyes open and crushed the cigarette against the ground, pushing himself up with a groan. He caught a glimpse of the palm that had been holding up his head and saw oozing red with caked-on brown.

"Great..." he muttered beneath his breath. He walked over to a pile of rubble and grabbed hold of the arm sticking out of it. With a forceful tug, he pulled Mason free and dragged him out.

"You still alive?" Luke asked.

Mason let a groan and series of coughs. "Yeah..."

"Help me round up the others." Luke staggered in trying to get him to his feet, but soon the two were standing, leaning against each other for support. They began the slow process of trudging through the debris.

"Hey, Mason," Luke said, shaking him to keep him awake. "I'm quitting smoking."

Even in his half-dazed state, Mason scoffed with a grin. "A little late for that, don't you think?"

"Nothing like the end of the world to make good on my promises."

Luke hoisted Mason up straighter and looked around for some sign of the others. They still had work to do. Maybe they couldn't stop the end of the world, but that wouldn't stop them from trying. They could still make one last stand before everything went up in flames.

Before it all disappeared like smoke.