p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The garbage bag his landlord had unhelpfully duct taped over the broken window did little to keep out the rain, and less to keep out the wind. Dean had already spent two years here and was all too aware of how cold winters got on the east coast. But the late spring didn't seem much warmer, especially not with the driving wind blasting damp, cold air over him from the broken window. He'd been putting up with it all week. He'd already asked three times when the window would be replaced, and his landlord was starting to give him the evil eye. The window would be replaced when it was replaced. For now, all Dean could do was huddle under his threadbare blanket and shiver./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"At least he had his car back. Three days of begging rides was quite enough. Then tonight, Sam hadn't been in, he couldn't get anyone to give him a ride, and he'd ended up walking to the garage to get his car. He hadn't gotten more than halfway there before the rain started. By the time he'd reached the garage, Dean bore an amazing resemblance to a drowned rat. In all likelihood, his seat would still be wet tomorrow, when he had to drive back in to work. He'd have to throw a towel over it./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"By the time he'd dripped into his apartment and got something to eat, Dean's head had been throbbing so badly that he'd barely been able to keep his meager dinner down. Then he'd stood under the hot shower to wash the chill from his bones and the smell of Bela's expensive perfume off of his skin before he'd simply pulled on a clean pair of underwear and an old t-shirt and collapsed into his bed. His rumbling stomach didn't help. The repair and tow costs had drained his ready cash. As it was, he had no idea how he was going to afford groceries. He hadn't bothered packing a lunch, knowing what Bela would demand of him, and dinner had consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that had used the last two pieces of bread in his apartment, washed down with a can of V-8. He was all too aware that he was looking at another week of surviving on ramen noodles./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean just wished he could quit his job. It paid well above minimum, which was the only reason he could afford what little he had, including this firetrap of an apartment. The walls were thin, sending the sounds of loud arguing usually followed by loud fucking from Tim and Cynthia, the couple on the left in the row of apartments. From the right came the pounding music of Jeff, the would-be rocker and his band. Both sides sounded equally bad. The apartment certainly wasn't worth what Dean paid every month, but at least the utilities were part of the deal, including cable TV. Now that Sam had taken pity on him and given him an old set, Dean could enjoy it. Of course, the set was fuzzy and occasionally the picture rolled, but hey, it was better than sitting and staring at the walls, listening to yelling and fucking on one side and bad music and off-key singing on the other. Dean had Bessie, his guitar, and flattered himself that he could play fairly well. He even sang a bit. But even though Bessie was his prized possession and had miraculously been overlooked by the burglar, Dean hadn't had the heart to touch her in quite some time. The only reason she'd likely been missed by the burglar was because Dean, feeling like she was accusing him somehow for neglecting her, had hidden her in his closet. Part of him longed to pick her back up again. But he simply couldn't./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean's head pounded worse than usual tonight. He was seeing the ominous glow around light sources that made his stomach want to heave. Not good. He rolled over and put his back to the window, adjusting the blankets and clothing around him. He'd gotten the brilliant idea of stuffing all of his clothes under the blankets with him to help keep warm, and it worked surprisingly well. The biggest problem was that the bed was just too big. The queen sized bed was achingly empty with only him in it. The empty space was just another reminder of what he'd lost./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Was it any wonder he suffered from frequent headaches?/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"But tonight, that aura around the lights signaled that he was about to get one of the really bad ones, the kind that laid him out and made him think he'd never survive, that his head would simply explode. He could only lay still and let it happen. His headache peaked to new heights of agony, reducing him to pitiful whines of pain as he lay in the bed, feeling his stomach churn. The pain was almost a living thing, bringing tears to his eyes and making him wish he could just pass out to escape. Dean was glad that he didn't get them this bad more than once every month or two, but that was quite enough. He longed for something to at least take the edge off. But he hadn't been lying to Sam. There was no way he could afford a hospital bill, especially now. There was no choice but to simply ride it out./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The worst of the pain had finally eased and Dean had just fallen asleep when it happened. There was a loud boom just outside of his window, followed by a tremendous force that sent Dean flying into the wall. His bed immediately followed, landing at an odd tilt on its side, held precariously by a bit of debris above him. Dean had time to blink up at his new view of the raining sky through what remained of his roof before the debris broke and the bed crashed down, landing on top of him. There was a series of dull thuds as more debris fell onto the bed, increasing the weight on Dean's body. Then everything went still./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"For the first time that night, Dean was shielded from the wind and damp. Always a silver lining, especially since his pillow and blankets had made the trip with him. At first, Dean was tempted to just say "Fuck it" and go back to sleep, hard floor or not. But when he looked up to where the corner of the bed was propped slightly up against the wall, he spotted a telltale orange flickering glow. And then he caught the scent of smoke. "Oh, shit!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean tried to crawl forward, but quickly found he couldn't. The heavy mattress and bedsprings, the steel frame and whatever had fallen on top of the bed combined into a crushing weight that pressed down on him. To get up off of the ground required him to push up against the bed with his back, which required all of his strength. Even then, he could only manage a couple of inches for a few seconds, and couldn't move. Frightened, he tried to get the bed to shift, so he could slide it off of him. But the bed wouldn't move./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Dammit, get off me!" Dean pushed and strained, trying to squirm free. He couldn't get out. The weight on his body pinned him firmly down. The only reason he could move as much as he could was that the corner of the bed above his head had fallen against the wall and was being tilted up a little, providing him with some air. He could wiggle a little, but couldn't go forward or backwards. With a sinking heart, Dean finally had to admit that he was trapped. As he kept watching, the light grew brighter as the fire spread. He'd hoped that the continued rain would put it out. But apparently, that wasn't happening. Instead, it seemed to be moving steadily closer. "Help me!" he yelled. "I'm trapped under the bed, and there's a fire! Someone please help me!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The sound was muffled by the mattress. Dean could hear more screams and shouts outside as he continued to struggle and call for help. Could anyone hear him? With all the damage his apartment had taken, surely someone would think to check on him! But as time went by and the light of the flames only grew, Dean gave way to panic. He squirmed and writhed, shoving against the mattress and trying desperately to struggle out from under it. But he was caught. "Get it off of me! Let me out!" he screamed. "Please help me!" There was no doubt that the fire was close. Dean could hear the crackle of flames growing louder, feel the rising temperature of the air. Would he burn to death? Or simply be baked in the oven of his cheap apartment? "Someone please get me out! I'm trapped under the bed! Please, somebody help me!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"He sobbed in terror as smoke began to appear, making its way under the corner of the bed that was propped above his head, invading the tiny space he had to breathe. This was it, then. He'd simply suffocate. He supposed that was better than either of the alternatives he'd considered, but Dean did not want to die. With a small cry, he pushed up with all his strength, silently praying that he could somehow shift the bed, make it move far enough that he could climb out from under it. He managed to raise it up a few inches. But the weight of it bore down on him, his arms shook, and he finally fell back down. Now the bed shifted again, slid further down the wall, and pressed down on him until he could barely move. Suddenly, Dean was in darkness, and had to fight just to breathe. /p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"He was wrong, he decided. Suffocation wasn't better than being burned alive or roasting to death. Panic gripped him as he desperately searched for a way to breathe. "Help! Please get it off of me!" he managed in the dark stillness. "I don't want to die like this!" He struggled to move, each breath coming shallow and fast as the crushing weight pressed against him. "Help me! I'm pinned under the bed! Get me out!" He sobbed, straining to struggle free. "Help me, please, why won't anyone help me?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"And then the weight pressing down on him suddenly eased as the bed rose. Dean quickly shimmied backwards until he was free. "Thank you," he sobbed at the legs next to him. "Thank you so much!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"His rescuer let go of the bed, which fell down with a crash. Now Dean could see why he'd been trapped. The reason he'd been able to see the sky was that most of his roof had, apparently, been bent up at a high angle. When the bed had shifted a bit of debris high on the wall, it had jarred the roof enough that most of it had come crashing down. The bed had protected him, but the weight of the roof debris, combined with more debris all around the mattress keeping it from sliding, had worked to trap him. He couldn't see any way that he could have gotten out of the terrible trap alone, and the entire room was wavy with heat and the glow of flames./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean got uneasily to his feet. Then he looked up at his rescuer and stopped breathing yet again. Intense blue eyes stared down at him from beneath a full head of messy dark hair. He was neatly dressed in an inexpensive suit with the tie on backwards, sensible shoes, and a tan trench coats. The face was extremely handsome, but unfamiliar. /p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean didn't care. He embraced the stranger without thinking. "You saved my life!" he hiccuped. "Thank you!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The stranger didn't move. When Dean looked up, he was staring at him, his head cocked in confusion. Then warmth filled the blue eyes and suddenly the man's arms were around Dean, holding him close. Dean clung to him, shaking in relief and gratitude./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Something shattered, and Dean took note of his surroundings. The apartment, what was left of it, was still on fire. Already, the heat was making him sweat and the smoke was filling the air. "Come on!" he called, taking the stranger's hand. "Let's get out of here!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The two of them quickly stepped over the few inches that remained of Dean's front wall and went outside. As sirens grew closer, Dean's neighbors were already recovering. Jeff, his band member neighbor, was busy filming the blaze with his cell phone while providing running commentary. Tim and Cynthia were, unsurprisingly, screaming at each other again. The tenants of the other apartments were also outside, huddling together in the pouring rain. As near as Dean could tell, everyone had made it safely out. But the five-apartment row building was pretty much demolished. His own apartment, it appeared, had borne the brunt of the damage. Dean's front door had apparently been blasted into the next county. The fire seemed to have started from the twisted remains of Dean's gas stove and was rapidly spreading through his new open-air design despite the rain. "Always did say that place was a firetrap," Dean grumbled to his new friend. "Now I've got proof!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Are you part of a terrorist cell?" It was Jeff. He was shoving the camera on his cell phone at Dean's face. Apparently, he had aspirations of stardom as a news reporter in the likely event he failed to succeed as a rock star. "Why did you have a bomb in your car?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""What?" Dean turned and saw what was left of the car he'd just spent far more than he could afford to repair. It was clearly ground zero of the explosion. The cars around it had been tossed like matchbox toys. The power lines were down, sparking and writhing like live snakes. The poles had been snapped like toothpicks. Trees and hedges had been flattened, mailboxes and outdoor equipment tossed, and everything radiated out in a circle from Dean's car. The car itself looked like a pancake. It was flattened against the cracked pavement as if God had extended a giant fist to smite the vehicle into the ground. Dean's jaw dropped, and his hand went to his head. "Oh, you have got to be shitting me!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Jeff was back in Dean's face. "What terrorist cell are you a part of?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Look, Rockstar, you need to get out of my face," Dean warned. "I have already had a hell of a week, my head is killing me, and I have absolutely nothing left to lose. Punching you might just be the first bit of satisfaction I've had in way too long!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Rockstar? I'm metal, bitch!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Rockstar." Dean's rescuer was still staring at him. This was the first thing he'd said since saving Dean./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean did a double-take at the man, shook his head, and returned his attention to Jeff. "Listen, moron, I'm not a terrorist and this wasn't a bomb. It looks more like a meteor strike or something! See how it flattened my car? That wasn't an explosion, something hit it!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Oh yeah? Then what hit it, genius? All I see is your stupid piece of shit car at the center of this whole mess!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""I don't fucking know! I was sound asleep in bed! And looking at the damage to my apartment, frankly I'm amazed I'm still alive!" Dean's frown deepened. "I almost wasn't! I got trapped under my bed when it flipped on top of me, and where the hell were you? Why didn't anyone help me? You all saw what happened to my apartment, and not one fucking person came to check on me?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""We're not your babysitters, you crazy freak!" Cynthia called./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""I'm not asking for a babysitter, I'm asking for some basic human decency!" Dean yelled. "I was trapped and the apartment was on fire, and I was screaming for help, and no one even thought to make sure I was alright? If it hadn't been for this guy here...!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""This your boyfriend?" Tim wanted to know, looking from the mysterious man to Dean and back./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""What? No!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Hey, calm down, dude, no one gives a shit."/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Honestly, I thought that, too," Jeff said. "You're in a t-shirt and undies, and you're holding hands with him, so I just assumed...?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean stared down at his hand, still clasped with the stranger's. He blushed and let go. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean... Um, you ok, man?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"It was like watching a tree fall, so much that some part of Dean's brain wanted to yell "Timber!" The man didn't collapse. He fell backwards. The blue eyes rolled back into his head and he simply toppled over. Dean barely managed to grab him before the back of his skull impacted the ground. "Call an ambulance!" Dean yelled, cradling the man's head. "Someone call a fucking ambulance!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"At least he had his car back. Three days of begging rides was quite enough. Then tonight, Sam hadn't been in, he couldn't get anyone to give him a ride, and he'd ended up walking to the garage to get his car. He hadn't gotten more than halfway there before the rain started. By the time he'd reached the garage, Dean bore an amazing resemblance to a drowned rat. In all likelihood, his seat would still be wet tomorrow, when he had to drive back in to work. He'd have to throw a towel over it./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"By the time he'd dripped into his apartment and got something to eat, Dean's head had been throbbing so badly that he'd barely been able to keep his meager dinner down. Then he'd stood under the hot shower to wash the chill from his bones and the smell of Bela's expensive perfume off of his skin before he'd simply pulled on a clean pair of underwear and an old t-shirt and collapsed into his bed. His rumbling stomach didn't help. The repair and tow costs had drained his ready cash. As it was, he had no idea how he was going to afford groceries. He hadn't bothered packing a lunch, knowing what Bela would demand of him, and dinner had consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that had used the last two pieces of bread in his apartment, washed down with a can of V-8. He was all too aware that he was looking at another week of surviving on ramen noodles./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean just wished he could quit his job. It paid well above minimum, which was the only reason he could afford what little he had, including this firetrap of an apartment. The walls were thin, sending the sounds of loud arguing usually followed by loud fucking from Tim and Cynthia, the couple on the left in the row of apartments. From the right came the pounding music of Jeff, the would-be rocker and his band. Both sides sounded equally bad. The apartment certainly wasn't worth what Dean paid every month, but at least the utilities were part of the deal, including cable TV. Now that Sam had taken pity on him and given him an old set, Dean could enjoy it. Of course, the set was fuzzy and occasionally the picture rolled, but hey, it was better than sitting and staring at the walls, listening to yelling and fucking on one side and bad music and off-key singing on the other. Dean had Bessie, his guitar, and flattered himself that he could play fairly well. He even sang a bit. But even though Bessie was his prized possession and had miraculously been overlooked by the burglar, Dean hadn't had the heart to touch her in quite some time. The only reason she'd likely been missed by the burglar was because Dean, feeling like she was accusing him somehow for neglecting her, had hidden her in his closet. Part of him longed to pick her back up again. But he simply couldn't./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean's head pounded worse than usual tonight. He was seeing the ominous glow around light sources that made his stomach want to heave. Not good. He rolled over and put his back to the window, adjusting the blankets and clothing around him. He'd gotten the brilliant idea of stuffing all of his clothes under the blankets with him to help keep warm, and it worked surprisingly well. The biggest problem was that the bed was just too big. The queen sized bed was achingly empty with only him in it. The empty space was just another reminder of what he'd lost./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Was it any wonder he suffered from frequent headaches?/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"But tonight, that aura around the lights signaled that he was about to get one of the really bad ones, the kind that laid him out and made him think he'd never survive, that his head would simply explode. He could only lay still and let it happen. His headache peaked to new heights of agony, reducing him to pitiful whines of pain as he lay in the bed, feeling his stomach churn. The pain was almost a living thing, bringing tears to his eyes and making him wish he could just pass out to escape. Dean was glad that he didn't get them this bad more than once every month or two, but that was quite enough. He longed for something to at least take the edge off. But he hadn't been lying to Sam. There was no way he could afford a hospital bill, especially now. There was no choice but to simply ride it out./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The worst of the pain had finally eased and Dean had just fallen asleep when it happened. There was a loud boom just outside of his window, followed by a tremendous force that sent Dean flying into the wall. His bed immediately followed, landing at an odd tilt on its side, held precariously by a bit of debris above him. Dean had time to blink up at his new view of the raining sky through what remained of his roof before the debris broke and the bed crashed down, landing on top of him. There was a series of dull thuds as more debris fell onto the bed, increasing the weight on Dean's body. Then everything went still./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"For the first time that night, Dean was shielded from the wind and damp. Always a silver lining, especially since his pillow and blankets had made the trip with him. At first, Dean was tempted to just say "Fuck it" and go back to sleep, hard floor or not. But when he looked up to where the corner of the bed was propped slightly up against the wall, he spotted a telltale orange flickering glow. And then he caught the scent of smoke. "Oh, shit!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean tried to crawl forward, but quickly found he couldn't. The heavy mattress and bedsprings, the steel frame and whatever had fallen on top of the bed combined into a crushing weight that pressed down on him. To get up off of the ground required him to push up against the bed with his back, which required all of his strength. Even then, he could only manage a couple of inches for a few seconds, and couldn't move. Frightened, he tried to get the bed to shift, so he could slide it off of him. But the bed wouldn't move./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Dammit, get off me!" Dean pushed and strained, trying to squirm free. He couldn't get out. The weight on his body pinned him firmly down. The only reason he could move as much as he could was that the corner of the bed above his head had fallen against the wall and was being tilted up a little, providing him with some air. He could wiggle a little, but couldn't go forward or backwards. With a sinking heart, Dean finally had to admit that he was trapped. As he kept watching, the light grew brighter as the fire spread. He'd hoped that the continued rain would put it out. But apparently, that wasn't happening. Instead, it seemed to be moving steadily closer. "Help me!" he yelled. "I'm trapped under the bed, and there's a fire! Someone please help me!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The sound was muffled by the mattress. Dean could hear more screams and shouts outside as he continued to struggle and call for help. Could anyone hear him? With all the damage his apartment had taken, surely someone would think to check on him! But as time went by and the light of the flames only grew, Dean gave way to panic. He squirmed and writhed, shoving against the mattress and trying desperately to struggle out from under it. But he was caught. "Get it off of me! Let me out!" he screamed. "Please help me!" There was no doubt that the fire was close. Dean could hear the crackle of flames growing louder, feel the rising temperature of the air. Would he burn to death? Or simply be baked in the oven of his cheap apartment? "Someone please get me out! I'm trapped under the bed! Please, somebody help me!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"He sobbed in terror as smoke began to appear, making its way under the corner of the bed that was propped above his head, invading the tiny space he had to breathe. This was it, then. He'd simply suffocate. He supposed that was better than either of the alternatives he'd considered, but Dean did not want to die. With a small cry, he pushed up with all his strength, silently praying that he could somehow shift the bed, make it move far enough that he could climb out from under it. He managed to raise it up a few inches. But the weight of it bore down on him, his arms shook, and he finally fell back down. Now the bed shifted again, slid further down the wall, and pressed down on him until he could barely move. Suddenly, Dean was in darkness, and had to fight just to breathe. /p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"He was wrong, he decided. Suffocation wasn't better than being burned alive or roasting to death. Panic gripped him as he desperately searched for a way to breathe. "Help! Please get it off of me!" he managed in the dark stillness. "I don't want to die like this!" He struggled to move, each breath coming shallow and fast as the crushing weight pressed against him. "Help me! I'm pinned under the bed! Get me out!" He sobbed, straining to struggle free. "Help me, please, why won't anyone help me?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"And then the weight pressing down on him suddenly eased as the bed rose. Dean quickly shimmied backwards until he was free. "Thank you," he sobbed at the legs next to him. "Thank you so much!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"His rescuer let go of the bed, which fell down with a crash. Now Dean could see why he'd been trapped. The reason he'd been able to see the sky was that most of his roof had, apparently, been bent up at a high angle. When the bed had shifted a bit of debris high on the wall, it had jarred the roof enough that most of it had come crashing down. The bed had protected him, but the weight of the roof debris, combined with more debris all around the mattress keeping it from sliding, had worked to trap him. He couldn't see any way that he could have gotten out of the terrible trap alone, and the entire room was wavy with heat and the glow of flames./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean got uneasily to his feet. Then he looked up at his rescuer and stopped breathing yet again. Intense blue eyes stared down at him from beneath a full head of messy dark hair. He was neatly dressed in an inexpensive suit with the tie on backwards, sensible shoes, and a tan trench coats. The face was extremely handsome, but unfamiliar. /p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean didn't care. He embraced the stranger without thinking. "You saved my life!" he hiccuped. "Thank you!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The stranger didn't move. When Dean looked up, he was staring at him, his head cocked in confusion. Then warmth filled the blue eyes and suddenly the man's arms were around Dean, holding him close. Dean clung to him, shaking in relief and gratitude./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Something shattered, and Dean took note of his surroundings. The apartment, what was left of it, was still on fire. Already, the heat was making him sweat and the smoke was filling the air. "Come on!" he called, taking the stranger's hand. "Let's get out of here!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"The two of them quickly stepped over the few inches that remained of Dean's front wall and went outside. As sirens grew closer, Dean's neighbors were already recovering. Jeff, his band member neighbor, was busy filming the blaze with his cell phone while providing running commentary. Tim and Cynthia were, unsurprisingly, screaming at each other again. The tenants of the other apartments were also outside, huddling together in the pouring rain. As near as Dean could tell, everyone had made it safely out. But the five-apartment row building was pretty much demolished. His own apartment, it appeared, had borne the brunt of the damage. Dean's front door had apparently been blasted into the next county. The fire seemed to have started from the twisted remains of Dean's gas stove and was rapidly spreading through his new open-air design despite the rain. "Always did say that place was a firetrap," Dean grumbled to his new friend. "Now I've got proof!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Are you part of a terrorist cell?" It was Jeff. He was shoving the camera on his cell phone at Dean's face. Apparently, he had aspirations of stardom as a news reporter in the likely event he failed to succeed as a rock star. "Why did you have a bomb in your car?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""What?" Dean turned and saw what was left of the car he'd just spent far more than he could afford to repair. It was clearly ground zero of the explosion. The cars around it had been tossed like matchbox toys. The power lines were down, sparking and writhing like live snakes. The poles had been snapped like toothpicks. Trees and hedges had been flattened, mailboxes and outdoor equipment tossed, and everything radiated out in a circle from Dean's car. The car itself looked like a pancake. It was flattened against the cracked pavement as if God had extended a giant fist to smite the vehicle into the ground. Dean's jaw dropped, and his hand went to his head. "Oh, you have got to be shitting me!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Jeff was back in Dean's face. "What terrorist cell are you a part of?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Look, Rockstar, you need to get out of my face," Dean warned. "I have already had a hell of a week, my head is killing me, and I have absolutely nothing left to lose. Punching you might just be the first bit of satisfaction I've had in way too long!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Rockstar? I'm metal, bitch!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Rockstar." Dean's rescuer was still staring at him. This was the first thing he'd said since saving Dean./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean did a double-take at the man, shook his head, and returned his attention to Jeff. "Listen, moron, I'm not a terrorist and this wasn't a bomb. It looks more like a meteor strike or something! See how it flattened my car? That wasn't an explosion, something hit it!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Oh yeah? Then what hit it, genius? All I see is your stupid piece of shit car at the center of this whole mess!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""I don't fucking know! I was sound asleep in bed! And looking at the damage to my apartment, frankly I'm amazed I'm still alive!" Dean's frown deepened. "I almost wasn't! I got trapped under my bed when it flipped on top of me, and where the hell were you? Why didn't anyone help me? You all saw what happened to my apartment, and not one fucking person came to check on me?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""We're not your babysitters, you crazy freak!" Cynthia called./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""I'm not asking for a babysitter, I'm asking for some basic human decency!" Dean yelled. "I was trapped and the apartment was on fire, and I was screaming for help, and no one even thought to make sure I was alright? If it hadn't been for this guy here...!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""This your boyfriend?" Tim wanted to know, looking from the mysterious man to Dean and back./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""What? No!"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Hey, calm down, dude, no one gives a shit."/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';""Honestly, I thought that, too," Jeff said. "You're in a t-shirt and undies, and you're holding hands with him, so I just assumed...?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Dean stared down at his hand, still clasped with the stranger's. He blushed and let go. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean... Um, you ok, man?"/p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"It was like watching a tree fall, so much that some part of Dean's brain wanted to yell "Timber!" The man didn't collapse. He fell backwards. The blue eyes rolled back into his head and he simply toppled over. Dean barely managed to grab him before the back of his skull impacted the ground. "Call an ambulance!" Dean yelled, cradling the man's head. "Someone call a fucking ambulance!"/p