Last edited 02 Dec 2001 02:45 PM
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Last edited 02 Dec 2001 02:45 PM
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He was out only for a matter of seconds, if that. He was on the ground, trying to figure out what he was looking at. Smoke, sparks, ashes, fire ... beams leaning dizzily down from the ceiling -- one had hit him. Hand to the back of the head. Comes back -- blood? Hard to see -- too much smoke burning the eyes. He drags himself to his feet, leaning, staggering. Too bad I used those freezing pellets -- they would have been handy right now. Make myself a cool one -- The people he saw -- where were they? He stumbles around flames, peering through smoke, coughing. Aha! That's what I need! Tommy, you old idiot, you, why do you invent these things and not use them? He stood there another few seconds, humorously berating himself, until another fit of coughing hit, and he remembered to reach into his belt and pull on the small rebreather. He took several long breaths, trying to flush out his lungs. He was seeing more clearly, and he could breathe, but something still wasn't right. He put his hand to the back of his head, brought it back again. Blood? Where were those people he'd seen. Ah. He moved around another half-fallen beam -- more bits of burning debris drifting down from above. Two women, huddled in the corner, and four kids. Jesus Christ. "Come on!" he shouted. They stared at him, terrified. Did they even speak English? "Come on!" He reached forward, grabbing for them. They shrank back a moment, then as more ceiling collapsed, screamed and scrambled up, gathering the kids, all below the age of 11. "This way -- no, this way!" He tried to herd them over toward the window. Only there could he get them out, somehow, but there were so many of them, and everything was falling down -- He could hear voices in his earpiece, Iris and Rococo -- the building was coming down, they were outside, trying to support it, trying to help people out. Vic and Tiger were still hot and heavy up topside. The window. They were at the window. What came next? A pain in the back of his head. He put his hand back there, brought it back out. Blood? The women were screaming, the kids were screaming, and the ceiling of the room -- four, five, six stories up, how high were they -- it was growning like it was going to come down at any moment. What to castle with? What to castle with? Down on street, mail box, car, van, tree, fire hydrant. Nothing, damn it, and no one. And there are too many of them. Too many of them. He couldn't take them all, and he couldn't make too many trips, even if there was something he could have used. The growning of the floor above them was like the howls of the damned, coming closer and closer, and the smoke and the flame were roaring, and the women and children were screaming and it was all coming down now -- He reached out. There was a small car down there, something Japanese, never did know cars the way some guys did, more interested in military jets, F-14 Tomcat the most beautiful plane ever built -- Focus! It was too much, he knew in an instant of clarity that he was concussed, that he wasn't thinking straight, that he was going to die, and the others were going to die, and he reached out, the only thing down there that would match his mass and the women and children was that damned car, whatever it was, something Japanese, never did know cars like the other guys, but got to bring it up here, move us all down, because the roof is coming down and the others have to make it, the women and children, women and children first, that's what a hero does, women and children first -- And he reached out, reached out around him, and reached down for the car, and the ground zoomed up at them even as the ceiling collapsed -- * * * There was screaming, buzzing in his ear. His eyes pulled open, still burning from smoke, and there was a pain in his head, and a pain in his legs. His eyes could see the women with their children -- We're on the ground! We're safe! I did it! -- but they weren't the ones screaming. He was having trouble focusing, and there was still a roaring in his ear, and a buzzing, and pain here and there. Who was -- Iris. Wild Iris. Cute girl. Always thought we should get together. Comrades in peril and all that. Thought she might be starting to like me. Maybe a date. That would be great. Cute girl. Her eyes are red. She must be upset about something. But she's not screaming. She's looking at me -- or down -- He looked down. And saw that both his legs were gone at mid-thigh. Iris, wide-eyed, but beyond crying, was telekinetically keeping him from bleeding to death. And he suddenly knew where the screaming was coming from. * * * |
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