FLASH FICTION

Not Much of a Superhero

Sci-fi fantasy

The flames rose. He hovered above, aware of his own unexpected and unconscionable desire to flee, for he could. But, he could not. His own guilt at even the thought of abandoning the people below made him want to punch himself a little but he had bigger concerns right now. Flames or no flames, his duty was to protect, and damn it, he would.

He flew into the flames aware of the sizzling of his unprotected body hairs. Hairs didn’t matter, but his skin was not fire-resistant. As far as superheroes go, he was feeling a wee bit inferior and useless. Nevertheless, his desire to save and help was his calling and the threat to his own life was overshadowed by the threat to the townspeople.

He didn’t know this town. He didn’t know how many were left. All he knew was that he had taken twelve souls out so far. Were there more? He could justify it by saying he was sure that was everyone, but he couldn’t be sure, so he couldn’t stop. Fuck Superman — an unrealistic version of a superhero.

He heard a noise — a whimper. He didn’t have super-hearing so he knew they were close. He gently landed his feet on the concrete, grateful for the slight relief from the burning wood around. The child hunkered beneath a large wooden table. The table top had only just flickered into life with flames. A crash from overhead and he ducked beneathe the table only moments before burning beams fell where he had stood. They were perhaps ten years old. They hugged their legs and the small furry head of a bunny barely protruded beneath their chin where their knees held it snug.

Behind them, a concrete wall. He didn’t have super strength.

To their left, more concrete.

To their right, the side of a steel cupboard; mottled, charred, and red.

In front of them, burning and flaming beams.

They were trapped. He placed his foot on the cupboard and pushed. His leg went through the weakened metal sheet and his Nomex suit sliced open. His skin sizzled and he could not fight the scream that assaulted his throat. The child dropped the bunny and reached for him. He wrapped an arm around them and with his other arm, pulled his nomex cape around and over their tiny body. At least it would hold the flame and heat from their skin. It wouldn’t stop the table above let alone the building from crushing them, but he hoped the smoke would take them before flames could.

“Why are we still here?” they asked and his heart shattered.

He was no goddamn superhero. All he could do was fly. Whoop-dee freakin’ do. Did he really think that the ability to fly would allow him to somehow, save the world? How could be so arrogant when he couldn’t even save this one little child.

“We’ll be gone from here, soon,” he soothed, perhaps to himself even more than the scared child in his arms. But they weren’t scared. He felt no fear from them. He felt only strength.

“Let’s go now,” they said and pushed to their feet. He grabbed at them, quickly, placing a hand between their head and the heated table before they could bump into it and burn themself and perhaps even bring the whole thing down.

“We are trapped,” he admitted with a heavy heart. “I cannot save you. I’m sorry.” He felt tears well. All he wanted was to save them. To save everyone. And he had failed.

“I do not need saving,” they said.

They stood. The table never touched them. It bubbled up above their head before snapping wood cracked into splinters. The parts drifted past them barely centermetres away, gently, as if carried on a flowing river. He brought up his covered arm just in time to deflect a splintered chunk of wood before it smacked him across his uncovered face. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, sense it. Like a forcefield around the child, nothing could penetrate to them unless they chose it.

Their eyes met. He smiled.

“Please, fly me out of here,” said the blind child.

This Flash Fiction was created from my personal prompt generator. The prompt was: “A child inspires a flippant superhero in a burning town but they are blind”.