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He had been on patrol when he had gotten the call.
“Spring!” His earpiece frantically yelled. Bdubs’ anxious voice all but pleaded him to go as fast as he could to the hospital. He raced there, springing off of buildings with acrobatic accuracy. And yet, he hadn’t been fast enough.
When he arrived, the building was already engulfed in layers of thick, black smoke. He coughed as he breathed, and the acrid taste of it stayed in his mouth. Already, there were crowds of people scrambling out of the front doors and onto the street, hacking and gasping for clean air. Doctors and nurses carried babies and helped patients out of the building.
Holy crap, he thought. Who could have done this? They had recently been searching for information on a new villainous group called the Watchers, but this couldn't have been them, could it? After a small-scale attack on a seemingly random business, the Heroes had been notified of the group's existence and had been on high alert for any related attacks. However, nothing could have prepared them for this.
He hadn’t realised he’d been standing still until he heard someone yell, “help us, Spring!” and Joel was spurred into action.
The screams were deafening. The night sky was lit up in orange and golden hues, and the crackling of combustion was the sound of lives lost. Joel bounced in and out of the hospital with desperate leaps, jumping on thin air. He carried children, men, women, grandparents– anyone he could carry with him. They coughed and spluttered, but that meant that they were alive. He couldn’t count how many bodies he had to leave because the machines that held their lives inside were broken, or flames had already eaten their bodies.
His arms strained with the weight of the four people he was carrying. Each of them felt like dead weight as he leapt through a shattered window of the fifth floor and tried to spring to a rooftop of the building next to the hospital.
“Two more minutes, Spring, and the rest of the heroes will be there,” Bdubs said.
Two more minutes, Joel thought. In two more minutes, the building may very well be reduced to ashes.
He pushed through the pain. The people on the streets helped him as well, at least. The doctors grabbed the patients he held in his arms when he hit the roof of the building. How they had gotten there, he didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to wonder.
Sirens blared, people screamed, coughed, and cried, and Joel entered the hospital again through a sixth-floor window, searching for any signs of life he could possibly save.
The walls were painted with black and brown smudges. The once sterilised, pristine hallway now a mismatched picture of strewn chairs, beds, and tables. “Hello?” He coughed, cautiously jogging from room to room. He stepped into one that wasn’t as damaged as the rest, though still extremely dirty. Dinosaur patterns lined the walls, and his stomach dropped. Joel walked up to the bed, which sat near the middle of the room, and hesitated.
It was eerily quiet, aside from hushed, staccato breaths from the bed before him. He peered inside and nearly broke down at the sight. There, a young boy lay. With closed eyes and soot staining his face and body. If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest and the soft gasps he made every so often, he would have thought the boy was a corpse. The orange hues lit up his face.
“Oh, God.” Joel breathed as he slowly lifted the boy into his arms. The boy did not spur. “C’mon, mate,” he whispered as he readied himself, “let’s get you out of here”.
He bounded back the way he had come. Down the hallway, past charred bodies and burnt walls. The smell of ash and decaying, rotten flesh hit his nose, and he gagged. His muscles groaned for relief, and yet he kept pushing. The smoke stung his eyes and blocked his throat, and yet he kept pushing. Because he was Spring! A superhero whom children admired and parents respected. He could do this.
A creaking echoed down the hallway as he rounded the corner.
He skidded to a stop, clutching the child tight against his chest. That noise couldn’t have been anything good. Cautiously, he took slow steps forward. He was right to think that the noise was a warning, because as his right leg reached out, the floor beneath him collapsed.
He let out a small yelp as gravity pulled his body down. His arms clenched around the child's body as they fell– he could not, no, he would not let go. Dark plumes of smoke rose around them, engulfing them in a blanket of darkness. He clenched his eyes shut. The air thundered through his ears as he frantically reached for his powers. With the momentum they were falling at, it would undoubtedly leave him with injuries, but he had to do it.
A sudden clearing in the smoke gave him a single, crystal-clear view of the ledge of a broken hallway. With no clue where the ground was, Joel braced himself and propelled them towards it with a desperate kick against thin air from his right foot.
Please don't die, please don't die, he chanted in his head. Had it been two minutes yet? He couldn’t tell– not with the way his mind was speeding at two hundred miles an hour. Where were the rest of the heroes? He wondered what the hospital looked like on the outside. It had been fully operational, with thousands of patients inside. How many bodies lie inside? How many people were still alive and clinging to the desperate hope that they would be saved?
Suddenly, his back hit hard concrete. He screamed in pain as he rolled, tucking the child into his chest and cradling their head. His own smacked against the ground as they tumbled. Stars clouded his vision– small, bright dots that danced around against the smoky background. He felt his clothing rip as he was thrown through charred tables and chairs. He coughed and tried to hold onto something to slow their momentum. He dizzily brought his arm out to scrabble along the ground. Because he couldn’t see anything in the smoke, Joel didn’t realise his mistake until it was too late. He heard a loud crack. Pain laced up his arm like bullets, and his vision turned white.
***
“-ing? Spring, are you there?” His earpiece crackled.
His ears rang. Liquid dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Joel realised he was on his side, with his back against a cold, hard wall. Thankfully, he still felt something heavy nestled between one of his arms, moving slightly. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The hallway was dark, at least, and the smoke had lessened. Yet, the air was still filled with the same bitter taste as before. He exhaled with a cough that soon turned into a coughing fit. His throat felt as though he had swallowed glass.
As he moved, a great, pulsing pain radiated from his left forearm. Joel glanced down at it and, upon noticing bone and seeing it bent at an awkward angle, immediately turned his head away. Shit, he thought. How was he supposed to help more people now? Had it been two minutes yet?
Sirens blared outside. The screams had lessened. Joel hoped that meant something good.
“Copy,” he replied. His voice was gravelly, and after he spoke, he let out large, heaving coughs. The movement jolted his arm, and he let out a pained whine.
“Where are you?” Bdubs yelled. He must’ve been watching Joel’s vitals. Based on his panic-laced voice, he knew Joel was in trouble.
“I dunno,” He groaned. Because, yeah, after falling who-knows-how-many stories, Joel had no clue where he was. At least he couldn’t hear any crackling. That was weird– fire didn’t just disappear, did it? He let out a weak chuckle. That would be funny – maybe it had sprouted legs and run away to bother someone else. God, he needed a rest. And his body felt so tired, and his eyelids felt so heavy…
“-oel! Joel!?”
Oh, that sounded like an actual person.
Footsteps bounded towards him. If he were in his right mind, he might have wondered why they were using his actual name, and not his hero name. There were civilians around, damn it! What if they heard?
Alas, his mind was drowsy with pain and fatigue, so he ignored all the questions and pried his eyes open. He couldn’t remember when he had closed them.
He was met with the mismatched, worried eyes of Etho.
“Mh– get out of my room, Etho, I’m trying to bloody sleep!” He whined, trying to lift his arm to shoo him away. However, as he lifted it, pain crashed upon him, and he froze. Oh, right, he thought. I’m literally in a burning building right now.
“Oh, Joel,” Etho whispered as he quickly approached them. His clothes were ashy, and they loosely flowed around his body as he dropped to his knees by Joel’s body. He tentatively reached a hand out to brush against his arm, before pulling back upon noticing the bundle he had in his other arm. “Bdubs, I’ve found him. He needs medical treatment fast– his left arm is most definitely broken,” Etho informed. “Oh snap– and he’s got a young child in his other arm. He needs medical treatment as well.”
Joel hummed his agreement. Hopefully, the boy would be alright. He wondered if the child's parents were nearby when the fire began. He hoped they were, anyway. He didn’t want the boy to be alone.
“Joel,” he heard Etho say. His eyes drifted to meet Ethos. “You did a good job.”
Pride bloomed in his chest. He let out a weak chuckle.
“Thanks, Etho.”
And with that, he let his body collapse into the arms of his partner.