The heat was intense. It was hard to breathe and the smoke was getting thick with fumes. You stagger to your feet from the floor where something had knocked you down. You scan the room to find the ceiling had partially collapsed and was now blocking the door.
You try to shake the fog from your head. Why are you in this inferno? The child. The child was still not moving inside the blanket you had wrapped them in. You needed to get out, and you needed to get out now!
You scan the room again. The window is too small and too high. The air was almost like inhaling flame itself. 'Try.' Try what? This is stupid. This was so stupid of you.
Clutching the child, you drop your shoulder and slam into the far wall. The drywall crushes, and pictures fall, but that is all. You hit it again, harder this time, but it repels you. You buckle to one knee. You're going to roast alive. You are going to die, and so is this child. Someone's kid is going to die and you can't stop it. You are not amazing. You are not.
You are not...
You are not going to die, not like this! The child feels weightless as you charge the wall. The wall offers no more resistance than wet paper and gives way to the alley behind it. The fire follows through the hole as the oxygen feeds it. It crackles as it singes your clothing, but you do not feel it. You slam into the side of the neighboring building, pulverizing the cement facade. Plummeting some forty feet along with the brick and mortar debris, you turn to get between the boy and the ground. An impact that feels no worse then flopping down in bed.
Looking up, you can see the fire pouring from the gaping hole four stories above. Red lights are flashing, the fire department had made it. You leave the alley and carry the boy to his waiting mother. The one who frantically stopped your cab and pleaded for help.
You decided to try.
As her attention is now fully on her son, you get lost in the growing crowd...