The heroic stranger dragged Laurel through the smoking debris, coughing and staggering. Laurel clutched his shirt and tried to use her legs, but she could not. She could see the strain in his eyes as he carried her; the fire reflected in the shine of his perspiration on his face. She was too heavy for him. She could feel it as her legs began to drag lower and lower on the floor below them as they squirmed through the debris. Laurel wanted to say something. She wanted to tell him to go on without her. But he didn't leave her back at the rock and she knew he would refuse to do so now. So, they would both die.
Finally, the man collapsed and both fell to the ground coughing and panting.
"Please," Laurel pleaded, "Just go! You can't save me. Save yourself."
The man ground his teeth together and grimaced, his head bowing. Suddenly, he roared and, grabbing her, pulled them both up, screaming, "I can't do that! But I can, and I WILL save you!" He dragged her farther into the debris, closer to what they both hoped would lead to an exit. He pulled her over and under, through and around, coughing as smoke continued to enter his lungs, but he continued to hold her and his grip did not slacken again.
"Do you feel that?" the man asked as he continued to carry her.
"What?"
"The air. It's...clearer, cleaner. I...I think we're close!"
Laurel lifted her head and tried to concentrate, to notice the difference the man noticed. At first, nothing seemed changed. But soon Laurel noticed the freshening air.
"There!" the man called out. "I see it! I see a way out!" His pace quickened at the sudden realization of hope, of life and soon both were lying on the grass across the street, panting and crying in the glow of the streetlight.
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