Chapter 273 Death
In the wake of the explosion, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Surely, no one could survive that. James, their hero, had to be gone.
But James, moving with a speed born of desperation, had managed to avoid the brunt of the blast. He was battered, bruised, but alive.
The building, however, had not escaped unscathed. The explosion had shaken its very foundations, leaving it groaning, on the verge of collapse.
'Faster,' he thought, his heart pounding against his ribs. He had to be faster.
He could feel the moisture evaporating from his skin, the heat sucking the very life out of him. If he hadn't drunk that water and soaked himself, he wouldn't have lasted this long.
He possessed robust strength, yet he remained human. This relentless, all-engulfing inferno, a beast of unyielding consumption, was driving him to the very brink of his endurance.
James had never asked for this, never sought to be a hero. But circumstance, cruel and unrelenting, had thrust this role upon him. He was the only one who could do this, the only one who could face this inferno and win. Anyone else who dared to enter would simply become another victim.
And indeed, as he charged back into the heart of the blaze, he saw them: brave souls, inspired by his example, hovering at the edge of the inferno. But none dared to follow him, their faces pale with fear as the heat beat back their courage. They finally understood that heroism came at a price.
James, drawing on some deep well of strength, focused on his mission. He consciously willed his pores to close, creating a fragile barrier against the searing heat. He raced upwards, ignoring the flames licking at his heels, his lungs screaming for air.
The third floor, when he reached it, was a scene of relative calm. The fire hadn't consumed this level yet, and a surge of hope shot through him. Sapphira could still be alive.
He followed the sound of a child's sobs, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. And there, huddled beneath a sink in a bathroom untouched by flames, he found her.
Sapphira was a tiny thing, her face streaked with tears, her body trembling uncontrollably. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror, and began to babble, "Don't hit me! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean to start the fire!"
She tried to shrink back further into the shadows, her small body racked with sobs.
James' heart ached for her. How young was she, this child who had accidentally unleashed such devastation? The fear in her eyes mirrored the guilt that would surely haunt her if he didn't act quickly.
He crouched before her, offering her a gentle smile. "It's okay, Sapphira. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help. I'm going to take you to your mommy and daddy."
But his words did little to penetrate the wall of fear that surrounded her. "No! You're lying! Everyone hates me! They don't want to play with me. I'm not a monster! Mommy says I'm not a monster! Why won't you be my friend?"
Her words tumbled out in a torrent of fear and despair, her small body shaking with each sob. James noticed a large scar on her neck, a mark that set her apart and made her a target for cruelty.
"You're not a monster, Sapphira," he said, his voice firm despite the dryness of his throat. "And anyone who says you are, I'll personally set them straight." He reached out, gently stroking her hair. "Now, come on. Your mommy and daddy are waiting for you downstairs. They miss you."
The mention of her parents seemed to reach through the fog of fear. "Really?" she whispered, her eyes searching his face.
"Really," he assured her. "They sent me to get you. They love you very much."
She hesitated, then asked, her voice small, "But the teachers... They'll be mad at me. I don't want to be scolded."
"No one's going to scold you," he said, forcing a smile onto his cracked lips. "They're worried about you. That's why they sent me to get you."
As if on cue, a loud crash sounded from outside, followed by a wave of intense heat. The fire was spreading.
James' expression hardened. "We have to go, Sapphira. Now."
He scooped her into his arms, ignoring her startled gasp as she felt the heat radiating from his body.
"Close your eyes," he instructed, wrapping a damp piece of cloth around her face. "And don't talk. You'll be with your mommy and daddy soon."
"Okay," she whispered, burying her face against his chest.
He raced towards the balcony, hoping against hope that the jump mat would be in place. But the street below was still a scene of chaos, the firefighters struggling to contain the blaze.
He swore under his breath. He had no choice but to go back the way he came.
The thought sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He'd been lucky twice, but could he push his luck a third time?
He considered going up, but the door to the fourth floor was locked. He was trapped.
Another crash, closer this time, told him he was running out of time. The floor beneath his feet groaned ominously.
Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip on Sapphira and ran.
This time, luck was not on his side.
He stumbled twice, narrowly avoiding falling. Debris rained down around him, striking his back and his shoulders, adding to the pain that was quickly becoming unbearable.
He was running on fumes now, his body screaming for him to stop, to give in. But he pushed on, fueled by a primal need to protect the precious life in his arms.
And then, through the smoke and flames, he saw them: the faces of the crowd, etched with worry and hope. He was almost there.
Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, he sprinted towards the exit, bursting through the flames and into the cool night air.
His legs buckled, and he collapsed, the world spinning around him. But even as he fell, he twisted his body, shielding Sapphira with his own.
He heard the thud of his body hitting the ground and felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. His vision blurred, the edges fading to black.
And then, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, he heard two voices, filled with a raw grief that cut through the roar of the flames.
"Honey!"
"James!"
Jennifer. Harmony.
Was this what it felt like to die?
Would they mourn him?
Would Jennifer ever forgive him? He doubted it. She was stubborn and strong-willed. The belief that he'd betrayed her would likely follow her, a bitter shadow over his memory.
Maybe it was better this way. At least it would hurt less.
Harmony... She would be heartbroken. She was a good woman, kind and compassionate. He'd never wished her anything but happiness. It was just a shame they were destined to travel different paths.
And to think, he'd been considered a genius, the golden boy of the Smith family. And now, here he lay, defeated by the machinations of the Perry family. It was almost laughable.
If there was an afterlife, he hoped for a simpler existence. No more family drama, no more corporate intrigue. Just peace.
He closed his eyes, his body going limp.
It was then, as if in cruel mockery, that the wail of approaching sirens reached his ears. And then, a fat raindrop splashed against his cheek, followed by another, and another.
The rain, absent for the entirety of the inferno, had finally decided to make an appearance.
The firefighters were late. Even God, it seemed, was running behind schedule.
The crowd gathered around him, their faces a mixture of awe and grief. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, a testament to the sacrifice their unlikely hero had made.
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