1.1

The air was thick, and the flames crawled across the floor and up the walls, orange tongues licking every inch of the room. They drew closer with each moment. Kevin pressed his back into the wall, chest heaving. Already he was struggling to breathe, gasping for air as if he were dying. Maybe he was. He certainly didn't see a way out of this one. Not this time.

He licked his lips, trying to think. He grabbed the radio on his vest, pressing the button down so hard that it jammed. The hiss and crackle of static filled the air, even as the flames bore down on him, spitting and popping as they consumed everything in their path.

"Guys," he called over the walkie. "Guys, I'm trapped. I'm not gonna make it out. Wherever you are in the house, you need to leave. Now. Don't bother trying to find me, you're not gonna win that fight."

Silence filled the airwaves, accompanied every now and then by the fuzzy sounds of static and dog barking. Finally, a deep voice he recognized as belonging to his Sergeant rang out clear as day.

"McKnight, there's a window on the second floor, directly below you. It's in the daughter's room. If you can find a way to get down there, we'll make sure we get a ladder to the window so you can get out."

Kevin shook his head, swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat. He had never seen the end so clearly before, had never been so sure that his time was up. His heart squeezed, a frantic hammering against his ribs.

"A support beam fell across the stairs. There's no way down," he explained, licking his lips. Already they were dried up and cracking, a stark contrast to the sweat that covered every other inch of his body. The heat was unbearable, and he dropped to his side where the air was clearer, despite the wave of fire that was now precariously close to his face.

"You better find a way, McKnight," his Sergeant said. "Because if I have to-"

His words faded away and were drowned out as the heat began to melt the plastic of the radio, a thick black goop that dripped down his front and cemented itself to his vest.

Kevin closed his eyes. He could still see the flames behind his closed lids, a hideous red glow that grew brighter and brighter with each passing moment. He swallowed again. He wasn't ready to die. Not yet. Not like this. His eyes popped open, and he scoured the floor around him, searching for something, anything that would help him break through the floor. His eyes smarted with smoke, and tears streamed down his face as he peered through the haze. There, where the support beam had fallen down before him, was a small hole where the beam slipped through the floor. It wasn't large enough to fit through, but maybe...

He rolled onto his belly and slithered his way toward the beam, using his elbows and toes to drive his momentum. When he reached it, he realized just how brittle the floor had become. He reached into his turnout pockets, fishing around blindly for the window punch he always carried. It was a thin piece of metal, designed for portability and maximum impact. His fingers felt a short metal rod, and he ran his fingers over the outer edges, trying to determine the shape. The center of the rod was smooth, but the outer edges were scored for easy identification. With a triumphant grin, he withdrew the punch.

The golden handle glinted in the firelight, and the long needle protruding from the end reflected the wicked orange glow.

"God, I hope this works," Kevin muttered to himself, trying not to breathe in any smoke. "Please let this work."

He pressed the needle into the thinnest, most exposed bit of wood around the edge of the beam, and pressed down, pushing as much of his weight behind it as he dared.

With a sharp click the spring thrust the needle forward into the wood. A piece of wood as large as his fist snapped and fell to the room below. Dismayed, Kevin dropped his head to the floor, biting back the desperate sob that lay in his throat. The window punch had worked, but not as well as he hoped.

"God, help me," he shouted.

He took a few deep, ragged breaths. His lungs burned like the fire all around him. He settled his mind. He wasn't dying today. He wasn't.