This section is from Ivan's perspective.
As I walked forward, the sun's dying rays cast eerie shadows through the smoke down on our little town. My nostrils filled with the acrid smell of smoke that hung heavy in the air, reminding me of the first day the power went out, making it hard to breathe. Someone handed me a bucket, and without a second thought, I carried it towards the lake.
I took my place in the line, the weight of the bucket pressing into my hands. I could feel the tension in the air. I'm sure each person silently prayed that we would be able to save what was on fire.
Suddenly, I caught sight of Derrick darting past me like a flash of black lightning. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, thinking I was hallucinating, but there he was, carrying a bloody child in one arm, empty buckets in the other.
"Keep moving!" someone shouted from behind me, snapping me out of my frozen panic. I shuffled forward with the group, my bucket sloshing in time with my steps.
As we continued towards the column of smoke, I saw Derrick dash past me again with 2 full buckets of water. I felt a sense of admiration for Derrick and his courage. He had no real ties to this town, yet he risked his life for people he barely knew. If only others could be so brave.
If only I could be so brave.
"Almost there!" someone called out, and I braced myself for what lay ahead.
My heart pounded in my chest as I gripped the handle of the bucket. The water threatened to spill over with my strained steps. Sweat prickled at my brow, and my lungs yearned for fresh air. We were getting closer to the smoke – thick, black tendrils that twisted up into the sky like the fingers of a vengeful god.
I made it to the house that was on fire. It wasn't as badly burning as I was expecting. Before I could wonder why steam puffed from the black smoke, I heard a sloosh of a water bucket being dumped, followed by another.
"Two more buckets coming through!" Derrick called, bursting from the smoky doorway. He threw them to the ground, grabbed the buckets from the people at the front of the line, and dashed back into the smoke. The line inched forward, and I found myself standing at the corner of the property next door, smoke pouring out like a never-ending waterfall.
I couldn't force myself to run in after Derrick. I was brave enough to stand there and wait for him to take my buckets.
"Jesus, how is he doing this?" I wondered, my fear mingling with admiration.
I watched him disappear into the smoke over and over again. Each time he emerged, his face was blackened with soot and streaks sweat. His eyes were watering. I handed my bucket forward and tried to swallow the lump of envy and fear that had formed in my throat.
As Derrick burst out of the house and ran back in again and again, the smoke began to thin, transforming into steam. To my shock and horror, the front of the line moved into the house to make it easier for Derrick to get the water. I followed the line, filled to my limit with horror, getting closer to the source of the smoke.
The only reason my legs obeyed me was the see of eyes that could judge my cowardice.
And the legs moving ahead of me in line without visible fear or trembling.
And the people behind me in line pushing me forward.
Mark, clad in his firefighter's jacket, hurried towards us, carrying an ax and a bucket. He caught sight of me and walked over, concern etched on his face.
"What's going on?" he asked, struggling to catch his breath.
"Derrick, Malcolm's friend... he's been jumping in and out of the fire since I got here. Most definitely before, as well," I replied, handing my bucket forward again. Mark's eyes widened in disbelief as he glanced at the house just in time for Derrick to jump through the door, take a few deep breaths, and then back in the house and then back to me.
"Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head. "That guy's got balls."
"Tell me about it," I agreed bitterly, watching as Derrick disappeared into the smokey steam once more. He risked his life for people he didn't know just because his boss told him to. I gritted my teeth, torn between admiration and frustration.
"Ok, I'll walk in," Mark said, his eyes narrowing as they flicked from the smoldering house to Derrick. He pulled a mask over his face, determination etched in every line of his expression. "It looks pretty good already."
Mark strode forward, his firefighter's jacket billowing out behind him like a cape. I watched him disappear into the haze of steam and smoke,
From inside the house, someone yelled out, their voice muffled by the smoke-choked air. "That's enough! Don't need any extra water, just bring in the buckets still close by!"
"Pass it on!" I shouted, waving my hands to signal the people behind me to stop the flow of water. As the message rippled down the line, I took a moment to scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces.
My gaze settled on a man and woman I sort of recognized from around town. They clung to one another, their dog squirming in the woman's arms and their young boy sobbing into his father's shoulder. The desperation in their voices cut through the chaos, pleading for someone to save their child.
"Please," the woman cried, her voice cracking. "Someone help us!"
"Damn it," I whispered, my heart lurching at the sight of their anguish. I had spent so much time jealous of Derrick and his bravery. I screamed at myself in my head to walk up to them to help them.
"Come on, come on," I murmured under my breath, fighting the urge to run away. From the corner of my consciousness, I heard, "Hang on! Hang on! Don't pass out on us. Not in here!"
Then, a collective gasp tore through the crowd, and I followed their gaze to see Derrick emerging from the steam, flanked by Mark and another burly guy. The sight of him took my breath away.
I was finally close enough, but he was slow enough to make out the details of his condition.
Derrick looked like he'd just gone ten rounds with Death itself; his skin had taken on a sickly gray pallor, and his shirt hung off his body in tattered shreds. Blood oozed from what appeared to be a dog bite on one forearm, but it was clear that the man had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
The distraught couple, holding their child and dog, ran forward, trembling and tripping over their own feet.
"Did you find our child?" The father's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, pulling Derrick's attention away from his wounds. "We still haven't found them!"
"Two kids or more?" Derrick asked, his voice way deeper than usual and hoarse from the smoke.
"Two! Is our child in there? Did you find them?" the man yelled back, desperation clawing at every word. His face was a mix of determination for a fight and desperation for good news.
"Found a kid," Derrick replied, pausing to catch his breath. "Left 'em with Rosalina..." his voice mumbled and slurred
The man's eyes were wild, his face contorted with a mix of fear and rage as he charged toward Derrick, putting his still-crying child next to his wife. "Who's Rosalina!?" he bellowed, his hands clenched into fists.
"Back off!" Mark stepped in front of Derrick, putting a hand against the man's chest to keep him at bay. "He saved your kid and house. Say, thank you." His voice was firm, but there was an unspoken plea for understanding in his eyes.
Derrick's labored breathing cut through the tension, reminding us all of his selfless actions just moments before. Mark turned to him, concern on his face. "I'm going to take you to Terruo's clinic."
He then faced the frantic couple, offering them a lifeline. "They are probably there with your kid as well."
"Let's go," I said quietly, stepping up beside Derrick, who nodded in agreement, his face pale and sweat trickling down from his soot-covered forehead. I felt his sweet mix of lake water drip on my neck, and he held on to me for support.
Derrick was just as heavy as he looked.
The couple hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance before following us as we began to make our way toward the clinic, their dog whimpering in their arms.