2
The heat was suffocating. Flames of orange, red and gold danced around him in menacing cadence, teasing and taunting mercilessly. But nothing could sway Cal’s attention from the small figure clutching the wall on the other side of the room.
When he’d first spotted the child, he could not believe his eyes. It was Marco, one of the many neighborhood children who hung around the firehouse with hero worship in their young eyes. Cal hadn’t seen him in several days, but now here he was in the midst of an out-of-control blaze in the abandoned Hadley Building, a condemned former office complex in the heart of downtown.
Cal took in the gaping hole in the center of the floor as his mind constructed a way around it. “Hang on, Marco, I’m coming!” He slid slowly to the right, trying not to disturb the fragile, burnt wood surrounding the hole. If it got any bigger, he would never reach the other side.
“Cal? Cal is that you?” Marco lifted his head from his crouched position, recognizing the voice of the firefighter. “Help me, Cal!”
“I’m coming, little man, just hang on!”
He moved with care and precision, his eyes darting between the opening in the floor and the small, terrified creature on the other side.
By the time he was twelve years old, Cal was as tall and broad as an average sized adult male. An anomaly that had been both a blessing and curse. His size had kept the bullies at bay—after all, no one challenged a six foot seventh grader—but he also realized that he did not fit in the usual places that kids his age did, and soon became the butt of jokes and teasing.
To counter what he felt was his own clumsiness, he became very conscious of his movements. Even now, he could almost move with the stealth of a ninja. This skill had served him well in his line of work, especially at times like this when a lack of movement was critical to success.
Moving along the wall, he came to a corner and edged around it until there was only a small space that he had to cross in order to reach Marco. He shifted on the ball of his left foot to leap across the gaping abyss. He made the leap and landed only inches from Marco, but behind him the floor disappeared, burning away until only six inches of floor remained behind him.
He scooped the feather-light child up in his arms, and turned to put his back against the wall. He surveyed his options, and realized there were none. He could not go back the way he’d come because the cavity in the floor had widened so that it was almost impossible to cross. Even if they made it, the surrounding wood was so fragile it probably would not support their weight.
On his other side, the fire was eating its way through anything in its path and heading straight for them. Cal knew then that he had no choice but to try to leap across the opening, and hope that they made it. The only other option would be wait for the fire to consume them.
He shifted the boy around so he could look at his face. “Marco, I’m going to put you on my back. I need to have my hands free to hang on once we make the jump.”
“Jump?”
Hearing the panic in his voice, Cal knew he had to act quickly, before the boy had a chance to scare himself into refusing to cooperate. He pushed his small body around and over his shoulder, didn’t have to tell him to hang on. Marco was already clinging to him like a spider monkey.
“No matter what, don’t let go!” Cal said, taking the fateful leap just seconds before the flames covered the wall they’d been leaning against.
The next few seconds happened so slowly, Cal felt as if he were experiencing some kind of a weird dream. He could see the ledge on the other side, and then suddenly it was no longer there and they were free falling through space.
Down into the abyss of a swirling river of flames that covered the lower levels of the building. Suddenly, Cal felt something clamp down hard on the collar of his rubber jacket, and he realized he was suspended in midair.
“Hang on, Cal! I’ve got you!” Even muffled by her oxygen mask, Cal recognized the voice of Marty, the only female member of the team.
He felt himself being towed upward, one inch—stop. The movement started again, another half inch—then, one hard yank. She relaxed her stance to catch her breath, and her heavy burden slipped back down three inches.
“Get the boy!” Cal called, his voice infused with fear as he felt the boy’s tight little clawlike nails losing their hold. “He’s slipping! Get the boy first!”
Marty reached over his shoulder and lifted the small burden. The child went willingly as Marty sat him behind her. Then she went back to trying to lift the much heavier man.
Cal felt his spirit plummet. Marty was more than capable of pulling her weight—but not his. Cal could feel himself slipping even more, slowly and steadily out of her sweaty grip. He knew that as sure as the sun rose in the morning, Marty would never let go of him, which meant she would go over the side with him. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Let me go, Marty!” he shouted through his fogged mask. “Let me go!”
“No!”
He came up an inch.
“No!”
He came up another inch. Trembling with the effort, she relaxed her exhausted muscles just a fraction, and he slipped back down a half inch.
She can’t do it, Cal thought, and somehow, someway, he had to make her let him go.
He looked down into the nothingness beneath him. The wide opening of burnt wood that spiraled down at least twenty feet left him feeling as if he were staring into hell. Instantly he realized he’d made a critical mistake.
A swirling hell…vertigo.
“Take the boy and get out of here!” he shouted, but when he felt her continuing to pull, he knew he was being ignored.
His head felt light, as beads of sweat popped out on his face beneath his oxygen mask. Without thought, his large feet began swinging back and forth trying to find purchase on one of the many, jagged levels that had not burned completely away. He knew he should’ve just held still, but panic had taken hold of his brain.
“Cal, stop! I’m losing you!”
The fire burned below, the orange and red flames dancing in anticipation of the feast of flesh it was about to devour. The heat surrounding him, inside and outside of his suit had him near fainting, something he’d never done in his entire life.
The tip of one foot reached a small, solid foundation just another inch below him. He experimented with putting pressure on the surface. Cal was certain if he could just get his foot firmly on the small, unburned portion of the next level, he could get clear of the opening.
He pushed his body in the direction he wanted to go. His only consolation was that if this did not work, the fall would kill him before the fire ever reached him. Even in death, he refused to give the monster its due.
Cal’s foot touched on the landing just as the wood surrendered to the inferno. His body slid and scraped along the jagged edge until his fingers hooked onto something that felt like a handle and he broke the fall. Using both hands to hold, he tried to lift his heavy form up and over the ledge. Even though the edge had broken away, most of the charred landing was still in place.
