Matters of Heroes (Delayed)

III: Rebound

June 8, 2012
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My eyes fluttered open. My breaths came quick and labored, sucking in the ash and smoke that billowed around. Fire. My eyes saw fire. "Mama?!" I called, coughing as I breathed in the toxic fumes.

It was dark above, except for the threads of sunlight that could be seen between the cracks in the walls and what was left of the building above. The hall we had been in looked completely destroyed. The door was gone, crushed by debris. Mama's home. It was gone.

I sat up, feeling returning to my nerves and then–pain! It shot up my spine, coursing through my veins. When I dared angle my gaze downward, the sight of my right arm sickened me.

It looked angry and welted, as if it had been dipped in molten lava. My hair had been singed and my body was covered in cuts and scrapes. "Mama? Lakeesha?" I tried to yell their names, my throat stinging as I took in more of the toxic fumes. My lungs ached and every breath was more difficult than the one before.

There was no answer to my calls. Though it was dark in the wreckage of the stairwell, I could see enough to find my way.

"Brayton!" I screamed, seeing his body limp, having been thrown further from the entrance to the stairwell than I had. I crawled to him, keeping as low as possible in an effort to breathe cleaner air.

I yelped when I dragged my knees over the edge of the first concrete stair. The skin was cut and bleeding. With each move I made, my body cracked and popped, protesting my steady pace. I refused to listen to the pain, nor did I pay any mind to the ringing in my ears that seemed to only get worse the more I moved.

I reached my brother after what felt like an eternity of agony. His eyes were closed and from what I could see of the damage to his body, I was not surprised. The left side of his face was completely charred and raised unnaturally. The skin had been stripped from his bone. Blood stuck to his neck and soaked what remained of his jacket. My brother–my poor brother.

I touched his neck as gently as I could and breathed a sigh of relief as I found a faint pulse. "Brayton," I whispered, hoping he would wake with no issue. Somewhere in my mind, I was still in disbelief, praying that this was a dream.

What a sick dream.

I could not be sure if I had suffered a concussion or if the fumes were causing my mind to shut down, but the realization finally came to me. We had been running for the stairwell. Brayton and I had hardly reached it. Mama and Lakeesha had been behind us. The door had been crushed and threads of sunlight fed through the debris. They were too far behind us. They hadn't had enough time to–no.

I leaned over the destroyed railing and hurled violently, my body shaking in disbelief and pain. Mama was gone. My twelve-year-old sister, killed. No, they hadn't just died, they'd been ruthlessly murdered by the monsters that still lurked outside the wreckage of the building. I could still hear the fighting.

What about the others? What about the officer and the family still trapped in their apartment? I remembered how young the voices crying out for help had been.

I hurled again and then pulled myself away from the stair railing. The tears in my eyes fell, but I could not feel them fall down my face. They almost seemed to evaporate when they touched my burned skin, or perhaps they stuck in the blood that coated my body.