The flames shot twenty feet out of the third floor windows, mocking the lazy rain that fell and sizzled on the roof. The fire was winning in the battle for control, the house within its clutch, the doors agape and crying.

Daniel held one of the main hoses aimed at the second floor. For a flash he thought he saw something move at one of the windows backlit orange. Then he saw the woman and heard the screams.

He pointed to the window, gave his grip on the black snaking hose to another man, grabbed a tank, an axe, a mask, and rushed through the hollering front door.

Minutes later he emerged, a beautiful blonde safe, sooty, and grateful in his arms.