David Palmer - Emergence

And since kamikaze slide’s final yards were backward, vehicle now resting on own gasoline track; flame pond spreading slowly about wreckage, storefront, as contents gurgled from ruptured fuel tank (rescue growing more complicated even as stood there, shielding face from heat [painful even at ten yards], squinting through inferno for glimpse of occupant).

But not last-desperate-second, screaming-crisis emergency; merely grim. No flames yet visible in interior; reasonable to assume passenger compartment intact (underneath, at least; topsides a mess: Glass gone, along with bumpers, fenders; front windshield posts both torn loose; roof at angle never contemplated by styling engineers).

Cooked occupant inevitable but not imminent; had time to secure from van equipment appropriate for crossing gasoline lake safely, forcing probably jammed door, extracting victim, retreating in good order.

(Never mind exploding gas tanks — exist only in fevered imaginations of sensation-oriented, irresponsible Hollywood screenwriters: Fire Marshal Hathaway [Daddy’s friend, neighbor; lived just down street] said so. Claimed endless fueling of myth fostered needless widespread explosion-fear. Marshal Hathaway considered filmmakers’ behavior quasi-criminal — certainly reckless negligence: Public saw so many crashes-followed-by-explosions on TV, in films, believed it; and more peoples’ injuries compounded when unprofessionally dragged from wrecked cars — burning or not — by Good Samaritans fearing explosions following accidents than recordable. Liquid gasoline doesn’t explode; only gasoline vapor, correctly mixed with oxygen , explodes — and only if ignition delayed until precise moment ideal mixture achieved. Burning cars don’t explode.)

None of which rambling bears on fact driver in fair way to roast if not gotten out promptly — gasoline fires hot!

Therefore steeled heart, clamped down emotions, blocked from mind distracting awareness of real stakes at issue; concentrated dispassionately on tactical evaluation, selected tools, commenced organized rescue effort…

Well, not exactly. (Mind still shut off.)

Took short run, dived headfirst. Passage through flames too brief for more than hint of real heat. Felt only momentary, intolerable ovenlike sensation; had barely time to be startled as breath sucked from lungs in reaction. More startling was incredible roar as flames licked at face, hair, clothing: From distance imperceptible; at heart of conflagration sounded like freight train.

Sailed through left front side window, fetching up in disarray on far side against door. Raised head to look around, discovered was gasping for breath: Already pretty warm inside.

Untangled limbs, crawled to driver — sprawled under dash. Examined gently as commensurate with haste, thoroughly as possible under conditions; determined no condition apparent taking precedence over fire: Bleeding from various lacerations ranged from inconsequential to serious, but no fracture grossly evident — though spine distinctly separate question, not determinable under present conditions. Would have to cross fingers.

(Of course qualified to render opinion: Fair-haired only baby girl of best doctor in whole world! Thoroughly, properly instructed in advanced first aid; more knowledgeable in emergency medicine than paramedic.)

Once assured rescue itself probably wouldn’t kill him (him? — HIM…!) turned attention to getting us out: Really getting hot in there.

Especially floorboard, now that had moment to notice; not ideal storage environment for victim while figuring out next step. Braced self, hauled limp body up one end at a time, dumped on seat.

Cast about interior for inspiration. At first found little cause for optimism. Then attention fixed on rear seat cushion: Ripped from moorings, lay skewed across interior, one end almost protruding from rear window. Recognized possible solution.

Tried left door. Not surprised when refused to budge. (But disappointed.) Didn’t bother with right door; solidly wedged against wall in which vehicle embedded.

Indulged in moment’s worry: Required little imagination to visualize consequences of attempting to push cushion through window, positioning to bridge pooled gasoline; climb through window dragging victim — amidst 20-foot-high flames…!

Options (few at outset) evaporated as gasoline lake outside spread, temperature inside mounted. In fact, as practical matter, single avenue remained. But regarded with disquiet: somewhat risky.

No — damned risky. For self (until now personal safety never at issue; could have aborted, exiting same way arrived, exposure limited to possible superficial scorching, crisping around edges) as well as for rescuee: If failed, both dog meat. (Well done.)

Indeed might fail: Strength required far beyond that usually at command. Plus considerable endurance.

Now. Strength available. But endurance most iffy.

Surely everyone remembers stories of 92-pound housewife who, witnessing car fall off bumper jack onto husband, performs hundred-yard dash in three seconds flat, lifts car with one hand, extracting hubby with other. Or hiker, confronting grizzly without warning, who subsequently finds self standing 30 feet above ground; on lowest limb of tree too big to have encircled with arms, legs; with no memory of how got there. Etc.

Less widely known: Many such stories true.

Solution arcane but not supernatural. Straightforward biochemistry: Given protein machine (assuming well-toned musculature, ample lung capacity, sound heart, circulatory system in good repair), energy expenditure limited to rate at which fuel metabolized; muscle cells nourished; heat, waste removed. Reserve stored in muscle tissues negligible.

Cells of which muscles composed contract not in unison but take turns; work in relays. System allows each cell a rest period to recharge during even most strenuous exercise; also means only tiny fraction actually participate at any moment.

Now, if stimulus encountered which triggers substantial majority of cells in given muscle simultaneously, awesome feats ensue (along with real potential for popped ligaments, tendons, fractured bones — system designed for shiftwork operation).

Own karate training, as with any advanced student, had covered Hysterical Strength, Unleashing Management Thereof; had gone, in fact, beyond routine analysis, theoretical discussion — into practical: Teacher included hypnosis in curriculum. Planted within psyche posthypnotic code to loose Beast Within at ultimate need.

Present quandary seemed to fall within definition: Needed more strength than possessed; else would die. Clear enough, even allowing for Teacher’s dire warnings.

For nothing magic about transaction. Simple arithmetic: X calories produced, available within Y length of time. Rigidly controlled by inverse proportion rule: Double consumption, halve duration.

During tests had seen own strength increase tenfold. Briefly. Followed by crushing fatigue: in strict accordance with tanstaafl principle.

But saw no alternative.

Lay back on front seat, fanny close to door. Gripped steering wheel with one hand, seat edge with other. Drew back legs, knees on chest. Concentrated inward. Gathered forces; focused ki flow into, through legs. Transformed trigger word utterance into kiai, intensity of scream hurting throat, and …

…KICKED!

Astounding results: Door burst open, whistled through arc, crashed against hinge limits; welds failed, door flew down sidewalk, bouncing end-over-end.

Instantly air vanished inside vehicle as heat flooded through door opening; searing lungs; dessicating eyes, nasal passages; scalding exposed skin. Smelled burning hair; never doubted was own.