This section is from Derrick's perspective.
Mr. Allen ordered me to help. So I gave him my guns and went to help.
As I ran through the crowd, I heard, "Form a bucket brigade!" Mr. Allen's voice boomed through the chaos, his normally timid demeanor replaced by decisiveness and authority. Damn, he had pipes and courage for everything not related to Mrs. Bitch.
"Alright then," I muttered under my breath as I grabbed two buckets and filled them with water from the Lake.
The headless crowd was slowly getting them selves organized with the instructions of Mr. Allen, but I was quickly leaving the crowd behind.
Smoke billowed into the sky, leading me toward the source of the fire. As I sprinted, the weight of the water strained my arms a bit, but there was no time to waste. My heart pounded in my chest as adrenaline coursed through my veins. The acrid scent of burning wood filled my nostrils.
"Come on, Derrick," I told myself, trying to will my body faster. "You got this."
The scene that unfolded before me was devastating – broken glass littered the ground, and smoke billowed from a house, its windows shattered. A kid sat on the scorched ground out front, crying.
"Hey!" I called out, panting heavily. "What happened here?"
The kid sniffled and looked up at me with red, puffy eyes filled with fear. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his hand. "I dunno," he stammered. "Everything just... exploded."
With frustration, I yelled, "Hey kid, is this your house? If yes, what happened?"
The kid stared at me, tears streaking his snot and soot-smudged face. But my dad's voice seemed to do the trick: "We were kicking a ball around, and it hit the stove, and it fell over. I was going to get my parents when something blew up."
I felt my face drain of blood and go pale as the words processed in my head. "We? There's another kid still inside?" My heart hammered against my chest.
The kid nodded, opening his mouth to say more, but I couldn't wait any longer.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, adrenaline surging through my veins. Jumping up the stairs, I put down one bucket to try on the door. It was locked, but that didn't matter – with a swift kick, I sent splinters flying as the frame gave way. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the bucket and charged into the smoke-filled house, the acrid stench of burning wood clawing at my eyes.
"Stay calm, Derrick," I told myself, scanning the room for signs of life amidst the chaos. Shrapnel littered the floor, remnants of the explosion. And there, in the corner of what used to be a kitchen, was a pot of spilled...something. It hardly mattered now.
"Where are you, kid?" I shouted, hoping my voice could carry through the building. "Hang on!"
Sweat dripped down my face, my skin slick with soot and grime as the smoke clung to my hair and skin. I pressed on, every step feeling heavier than the last.
I made my way into the kitchen. The fire was burning the splintered cabinets, broken dishes, glass, silverware and twisted metal radiated in concentric circles around the fire.
"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered under my breath as I heaved the water-filled buckets onto the fire. Smoke and steam erupted around me, scalding my skin and making it feel like it was about to peel off.
"Damn it, where's that other kid?" I coughed, dropping to a crouch to escape the worst of the smoke. My eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of him. That's when I heard the frantic barking from the living room. The dog - maybe it knew where the child was.
"Hey!" I shouted at the dog, trying to get its attention. But as I crawled into the living room, I saw what had been causing the barking: a little kid lying motionless on the floor, blood pooling around his head. The dog stood protectively over him, snarling at me.
"Alright, alright," I said, trying to calm the dog down. "I'm here to help."
But the dog didn't trust me, snapping viciously at my hand as I reached for the kid. Time was running out, and I couldn't waste another second trying to reason with a panicked animal. I grabbed the dog by the scruff of its neck, holding it at arm's length as it continued to snap and struggle.
"Sorry, buddy," I said, chucking the empty buckets back through the door. With one hand still gripping the dog, I scooped up the injured kid with the other and made for the exit. The steam cleared as I bolted out of the burning house, replaced once more by thick, black smoke.
"Stay with me, kid," I pleaded, feeling the boy's limp body in my arms. I had no idea what was wrong with him, but I knew one thing: Rosalina would know what to do. And that's where we needed to be.
"Come on, Derrick, FLOOR IT!" I roared to myself, forcing my legs to pump faster and harder.
I ran up to the kid crying outside, his eyes even wider with fear, his face even more snot-stained. I'd dropped the dog next to him, and he clutched, his face a mixture of relief and terror, as he recognized his sibling in my arm. "What are you doing?" he choked out between sobs, the dog whimpering in his arms.
"Findin' help!" I yelled back, snatching up the empty buckets and taking off with all the strength my legs could muster. My lungs burned with the effort to expel smoke, each breath a searing pain up and down my chest. But I couldn't slow down.
As i got closer to the crowd I saw people forming a line with buckets. But they weren't the ones I was looking for.
"Where's the damn medic?" I muttered, scanning the chaos for any sign of her.
As I sprinted through the sea of people as they were pairing up to carry buckets of water toward the flames. They shouted questions at me, demanding to know where the fire was, what had happened, why the hell I was carrying an injured kid. But I didn't have time to answer – I just focused on my legs, straining to carry us both to find Rosalina.
"Somewhere where I'm runnin' from!" I snapped, trying to shut them up. The blood dripping onto my hands from the kid's wounds made my stomach churn. He needed help, fast. Kids didn't need to suffer in life.
"Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath, willing my body to keep moving. "Rosalina's gotta be here somewhere."
"Hey!" someone called out from the crowd. "What are you doin' with that kid?"
"Findin' help!" I hollered back, desperation creeping into my voice. "Just let me through!" The people were slowing me down, making my anger rise.
My lungs burned as I pushed through the sea of people, my heart pounding in my ears. "Rosalina! Maria! Tsu! Mr. Allen!" I screamed, desperation tainting my voice.
"Over here!" a redhead waved frantically, jumping to catch my attention. It was Mr. Allen, thank God. With him were Maria and Rosalina.
"Move!" I roared, and the crowd parted like some biblical miracle. I stumbled toward them, clutching the injured kid in one arm. "I don't know what's wrong," I gasped, handing him over to Maria. "The kid was in the building that's on fire."
As soon as I felt the kid's weight off my arm, I turned to the Lake and weaved through the throng, my limbs heavy and my mind reeling. I refilled the buckets, my hands slick with sweat, blood, and soot from the smoke. The weight of the buckets weighed my arms down as I ran back toward the house, passing others carrying their own buckets. The smoke grew thicker as I approached, choking me and obscuring my vision. I noticed a group of people standing and looking at the smoking house as the kid with the dog wailed. I took a deep breath before plunging into the hellish landscape, the heat from the flames stronger this time around, searing my skin.
The fire was growing, now the size of a car. I dumped the water from the buckets onto the inferno, steam hissing as it met the flames, making my skin hurt more. Determination fueled my every move as I bolted back out of the house. The people outside stood by with their own buckets at the ready, seemingly waiting for direction.
"Come on!" I yelled at the top of my smoke-choked lungs, handing them the empty buckets and grabbing theirs. "We've gotta keep going!"
I charged back into the burning building, holding my breath against the acrid smoke. My body screamed in protest, but I ignored the pain and focused solely on extinguishing the flame.
I hurled the buckets of water onto the fire like a human catapult, barely pausing as I ran out. I took a deep breath, turned to the people waiting with more filled buckets, and swamped my empty ones. Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision, but I didn't have time to wipe it away. With each bucket I threw, I could feel the heat lessen just a fraction, and that was enough to keep me going.
"Keep 'em coming!" I shouted hoarsely, trading empty buckets for full ones again and again. As I ran in again and dumped the water, I turned to see people standing in the living room so I didn't have to go as far to get fresh buckets.
After what felt like hours, the fire finally dwindled down to a sizzling mound of charred wood and ash. My limbs trembled with exhaustion as the men in the living room gained some courage to throw water on the embers as well.
"Thank you," a man said, stepping up to me through the smoky remnants of the room. "But you should go get patched up."
I followed his gaze to see the damage I'd sustained during the ordeal: a dog bite on one arm, splinters embedded in the side of my chest and leg, and my shirt torn to ribbons. "It's fine," I waved him off, trying to sound casual despite the pain lancing through me. "I've had worse." My eyes drift to the stab wound scars scattered across my exposed chest and torso.
To contradict my words, my lungs coughed against my will. The man grabbed me and dragged me out of the building, my limbs weak and my head swimming.
"Thank you for your help," the man said, stabilizing me on my feet. His eyebrows were raised in a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. "It would've been much worse without you."
"Mr. Malcom Allen told me to help," I replied with a nod, gripping his arm firmly. "So I did." The man's gaze drifted from my face to the charred remains of what used to be a kitchen. Through the missing wall, he pointed at a twisted pile of metal in the center.
"Looks like a twenty-pound propane tank blew." He frowned, still puzzled by the cause. "Wonder why?"
I squinted at the wreckage, barely recognizing the shreds of a tank amidst the smoldering debris. My lungs felt heavy, and my head started to swim – a toxic cocktail of exhaustion, pain, and smoke inhalation. "You're probably right," I wheezed, acknowledging his observation. "But I think I do need some medical attention."
As I staggered forward, my vision tunneled. The man held me up, but his grip wasn't enough to support my weight. Just as I was about to hit the ground, more hands reached out, holding me upright. Their touch only fueled my panic as I coughed and shoved down my panic. Don't black out now, I thought, clenching my teeth against the pain. I needed to find Rosalina.
Someone asked me something about the house and a kid. I mumbled something about giving him to Rosalina.
"Where is she?" I mumbled, desperation lacing my voice.
"Who are you looking for?" one of the strangers asked, steadying me while we moved away from the remnants of the fire.
"Rosalina... Maria... Tsu..." I whispered their names like a prayer, hoping they'd hear me and come running. They were the ones who could help me keep going. But no familiar faces appeared among the sea of concerned onlookers.
"Take him to the clinic," someone called out through the fog of my head, and I felt myself being guided through the crowd. Each step was agonizing and heavy. I heard screaming somewhere, but right now, that wasn't my concern. Someone else needed to deal with it.
"Keep moving, buddy," one of the people supporting me urged. "We're almost there."
"Thank you," I mumbled, fighting to stay conscious.