Chapter 16 - Into the Inferno
The heat inside the gas utility shed was blinding and intense. Thick, black smoke rolled heavily against the brick ceiling, reducing visibility to absolute zero.
Daniel dropped to his hands and knees, crawling across the blistering concrete floor just as he had done twenty-four years ago as a fifteen-year-old boy in the basement of Ashbury House.
The roaring sound of the escaping natural gas was deafening—a high-pitched shriek that vibrated in his eardrums. The temperature inside the small room was rising exponentially, turning the steel pipes red-hot.
"Keep moving," Daniel whispered to himself, his throat searing with heat, his eyes burning with tears. "Keep moving!"
He reached the back wall of the shed, his bare hands brushing against the scorching cast-iron pipe assembly. He searched frantically in the smoke for the heavy wheel of the emergency main shut-off valve.
His fingers clamped around the wheel.
"AAAAAHHH!" Daniel screamed in agony as the red-hot iron seared the flesh of his palms, the blistering heat tearing through his skin!
He refused to let go.
With every ounce of physical strength remaining in his weathered, forty-two-year-old body, Daniel dug his feet into the floor and forced the rusted iron wheel to turn.
Quarter turn. Half turn.
The flames licked at his face and arms, burning away his dark wool coat, singeing his hair. His vision began to blur, black spots dancing before his eyes as smoke filled his lungs.
"For Micah..." Daniel gasped, his voice a broken whisper. "For the kids... FOR MICAH!"
With a final, desperate, agonizing surge of willpower, Daniel threw his entire body weight against the wheel!
CLANG!
The valve slammed shut with a heavy, metallic thud.
Instantly, the roaring shriek of the high-pressure gas ceased. Deprived of its fuel supply, the wall of flame died down rapidly, collapsing into small pockets of flickering fire on the floorboards.
Daniel collapsed onto his side on the hot concrete floor, gasping for air, his blistered hands trembling violently, his strength completely exhausted.
He lay there in the dark, listening to the roaring sirens of approaching Chicago Fire Department trucks echoing down the street outside.
As his consciousness began to slip away into the dark, he saw a small pair of bare feet step softly into the smoke beside him.
Daniel looked up weakly through his blurred vision.
Micah Bell was standing over him, his small face lit by the faint ember glow. But this time, Micah was no longer shivering. He was no longer bare-chested or bruised. He wore a clean, warm white sweater, his ice-blue eyes shining with an celestial, unearthly light.
Micah reached down, gently resting his small, cool hand on Daniel’s burned forehead. The excruciating pain of Daniel's burns vanished instantly, replaced by a soothing, incredible warmth that filled his entire soul.
"You came back, Danny," Micah whispered softly, his voice carrying the sweet, beautiful sound of absolute forgiveness. "You didn't run."
"I didn't run, Micah..." Daniel choked out, tears of pure joy streaming down his soot-stained cheeks. "I didn't run."
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"It's time to rest now, Danny," Micah smiled, giving him a gentle, loving nod. "The shelter is safe. The children are safe. You built us a home."
Daniel closed his eyes, letting out a long, peaceful breath as total darkness safely embraced him.
