Cute Story, Josh.

But here's how it really happened.

I was walking down the street, minding my own business, humming Belle and Sebastian to myself on a warm fall night back in oh-five. Out of nowhere, a fire engine starting screaming up the avenue behind me, and then another, and then another. I saw them take a sharp turn about a hundred feet ahead, onto a side street where a slight trail of smoke billowed through the air. Without even stopping to think, I dropped my manuscript bag and broke into a run in the direction of the trucks. I didn't know how I could be of any help, I only knew that I had to try.

When I took the corner, the sight that met my eyes was astounding—and terrifying. An apartment complex of twelve, maybe thirteen stories was completely engulfed in flame up to the ninth floor (I counted windows). Fire poured from the sides of the building and the haze of thick smoke choked the air.* Residents cowered, afraid to get too close to the blazing building, but unwilling to turn away.

I ran up to the fire chief. "Chief!" I shouted. "Is there anyone still up there?" The thought made me choke back something awful. Something like fear.**

"I think everyone is safe and accounted for." Before he'd even finished his sentence I felt my entire body slump with relief. "The only question mark is—"

"My baby!" The cry cut through the smoke and chaos like floss through a cheesecake. "Somebody save my baby!"

"Where is she, ma'am?" the fire chief asked of the woman who had made the cries. She was not an old woman, but she wore the face of someone who had seen too much pain in her short life, worry etched into her brow, care burnt into her frown. One look at that face and I knew I had to do something.

"She's in the well behind the building!" she cried. "We were trying to get out and she fell down the well!"

"Then I'm afraid she's gone, ma'am," the fire chief said quickly, far too quickly. "The only way back there is through the burning building—and even then it would take a slender young twentysomething woman to fit into the opening of the well and lift your baby out. It's hopeless."

The woman's cries only increased in volume and desperation. It was all too much.

Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself grabbing a discarded fireman's jacket and bundling it around my shoulders as I made for the building. "Wait!" said the fire chief. "What do you think you're doing? You can't go in there! That's suicide!"

But I didn't care. I thought only of the baby down the well. Leading with my shoulder, I burst into the building and waved smoke away from my eyes. I could see only ten feet away the door to the courtyard where the fateful well had to be. I dashed for the door, and burst into the clean air with a gasp, suddenly realizing how long it had been since I'd taken a breath. Then, on the exhale, I heard the baby crying.

Her screams led me to the well, nestled behind a large patch of shrubbery, and once I found it, I knew what I had to do. I tied a length of garden hose around my own waist, knotted it as tightly as I knew how from my Cub Scout days. Then I lowered my body into the body of the well, using my hands and feet for purchase, and inch by precious inch, lowered myself down until I was low enough to see the baby. She lay there, dazed, tearful, and looked up at me with these great innocent eyes, eyes that seemed to beg me for answers: Why was this happening? What would become of us? How come I fell down this deep well and didn't break every bone in my body or at the very least pass out?

But for answers, I had none. I could only use my feet as giant chopsticks, and lift her from the bottom of the well. And with her pinned between my ankles, I hefted myself up the hose and out of the well. We were safe. For a moment.

But the building had been burning steadily this whole time, and there was no way out but back into the steaming inferno. The baby and I looked at each other, and then I shrugged—what's the difference? Or was it more like, what's the point?—and wrapped her in the fire-retardant jacket. Taking an enormous breath, I slammed into the door leading to the lobby and was immediately pushed to the ground by the force of the backdraft. On all fours I tried to look ahead, but there was only smoke and fire. To my left, a slight opening, a break in the flames. I pushed left, carrying the swaddled babe like a football. Forward, forward, I told myself. Just a little farther.

But the smoke overtook me. "Lie down," it seemed to say as it whistled around my head. "Take a break." I tried not to obey but suddenly helpless, I felt my body slide to the floor. I felt the air leave me. My last breath was spent in a scream—for help, for God, for what I don't know. I only know that I screamed, and then it all went blank.

***

The next thing I knew, I was lying in an airy hospital, breathing into a plastic bag, coughing, spurting, alive. I tried to sit up, but a kindly blond male nurse pushed me back to the bed. "Hey, take it easy," he said. "You're a hero. You should get to take a break."

With his words I knew. I knew the fire chief had rushed in with his state-of-the-art breathing equipment and saved my life, and the life of the poor wellbaby. I knew I had done the right thing. I had saved one life. It was all I knew, and it was enough.

But then with another look at the male nurse, I needed something more. "What's your name?" I found myself saying around the mask.

He smiled at me, pushed back my singed hair with a soft hand. "Josh. My name's Josh."

"And I'm Kelly," was all I could say before sleep took me again.

FIN

*Please note that smoke is always choking the air in novels, because air is a big pansy that never learned to fight back.

**Fear, another big choker.