Diva didn't know the first thing about how to put out a fire other than water, but there wasn't any around. She suddenly regretted bringing only beer instead of water. She was in the dirt, trying to pile it on herself in a frenzy to put out the flame, but it wasn't stopped at all.

But she could still see Gene. She cried out for him, when he grabbed the blanket and let out another cry when she saw him stumble. The fire was agony, like every pain she'd ever been through had suddenly come back to her all at once. It was engulfing her, and she was afraid. The first time she had really, truly died, there wasn't any pain at all. She had crumbled into dust and had her time to say goodbyes. She wasn't afraid, then, because it hadn't hurt at all.

She couldn't stay standing, despite how quickly she had jumped up, and she crumbled in the dirt with her hand reaching out for Gene as she burned.