Trin! Trin! Trin!

  The sound was like a drill boring into my skull. Despite my best efforts, it dragged me out of the comfortable cocoon of sleep.

  Trin! Trin! Trin!

  Groaning, I pawed around until I found the damn phone and smashed “snooze.” I squinted at the screen, too bright for my half-open eyes, and “10 AM” glared back at me. Judging by the throbbing in my head, I had gotten maybe six hours of sleep, at most.

  Great. Another late start to a terrible day. Just like the last 300 ones.

  My small apartment smelled of stale air and old pizza boxes. Kicking my way out of the tangled sheets, I landed on the floor. I cringed as my eyes fell on it. A thin layer of dust had begun accumulating; I hadn’t swept it in weeks.

  Ignoring it, I stumbled into the bathroom and made the mistake of looking at the mirror. A head of greasy hair, dark circles and a five-day stubble looked back. A few strands of gray shone through; forties were creeping closer. No wonder I felt like shit.

  I sighed. If only age had been the only reason for my miserable state.

  Splashing some water on my face finally woke me up. I didn’t bother with brushing my teeth or shaving.

  The 32-inch 240 hertz 4K OLED screen lit up in all its glory, as I turned on my monster of a computer. Time to conquer Civilization. Pachacuti needed to teach the upstarts why he was called the Earth Shaker. Soon, Gandhi would be kissing my feet, nukes be damned.

  This was one place I was still in control of.

  My phone buzzed on the desk.

  “Mom.”

  A lump formed in my throat. I silenced the call and turned the phone face down.

  I know I’m a loser. No need to remind me.

  A notification popped up on the monitor, just in time to save me from the guilt.

  “Re: Application – Software Architect.”

  My heart fluttered. I opened the email with trembling fingers.

  “…while your qualifications are impressive, we regret to inform you…”

  I squinted at the date. Four months old, as it should be. I hadn’t bothered with that nonsense for some time. Probably had marked the email unread by mistake.

  “Overqualified,” I scoffed. “Just say ‘blacklisted,’ you cowards.”

  The stupid email made my eyes drift toward the shelf full of awards, covered in dust.

  “Innovator of the Year,” the latest one said. Below it lay the folder containing the final performance review: “Arrogant… uncooperative… creates a toxic environment…”

  “Blah blah blah. I got things done. Made your ungrateful asses rich,” I muttered to the empty room. The betrayal still stung. Training my junior to replace me right under my very nose. Sure, my one honest mistake cost them a million or two, but what was that to a billion dollar corporation? I had made them far more in the last few years.

  No.

  The mistake was just an excuse.

  The truth was that the review wasn’t completely wrong. I had indeed been a prick. I didn’t just make sure the management types knew about my achievements, but also what I thought of them; they would be nowhere without my work. I won every argument and lost every friend.

  That realization had hurt far worse, and led to where I ended up.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  I had far fonder memories of the older trophies. “First in class,” many said. A few were for second place, for the years when the other two smart-asses got too competitive. That was fine by me; it’s not like I had to put any effort to be in the top three. What a curse that turned out to be.

  I chuckled at all the memories. All success and no effort made Jack a royal prick. Maybe the teachers could’ve pounded some sense into me. Eh, who was I kidding? The Golden boy wouldn’t have listened to anyone. And now that I was ready, it was too late.

  All that bloody introspection soured my mood, so I focused on what I did best: escaping. Time to kick Gandhi’s ass.

  ──────── ??? ────────

  A few hours later, I got up to stretch and make some lunch when my eyes fell upon the window. A haze, the kind you see atop a fire, was dancing there. I was going to ignore it, like everything else in my life, when a new smell cut through the apartment’s funk.

  Burning wood and plastic. Sharp and acrid.

  Alarmed, I rushed to the window, tried to peek outside and had to jerk my head back when a blast of hot air almost burned my eyebrows. The window below me was ablaze.

  Goddammit!

  I shoved my laptop, backup drive and wallet in my bug out bag and bolted for the door. Yanking it open, I was met by a wall of acrid smoke billowing up the stairwell. White-hot fire was already licking at the bottom steps.

  “Well, shit.”

  I was stuck. The building had no elevator or fire escape; the joys of living in a developing country. Jumping from the sixth story would be suicide. I had contemplated it, but if I ever did it, it would be my decision. I would not let fire take that choice away from me!

  As I was considering my next steps, a muffled high pitched wail of a child caught my attention. It was coming from the door to the left. The neighbors that lived there had a little girl.

  “Anyone in there?” I said out loud.

  No answer, except for the child’s wailing.

  I tried the knob. No luck.

  “Fuck it.”

  Rearing back, I kicked the door with all my strength. It rattled, but held. I gave it another kick, and another, until the bolt tore out and the door slammed open.

  Inside the apartment, the child, a girl three or four years old, was crying her lungs out. There was no one else in sight.

  “Anyone?” I shouted.

  No one answered.

  Large innocent eyes stared at me.

  Who the heck leaves a child that young alone?

  My throat tightened. I hadn’t cared about anything for months; not my future, not even my aging parents, but looking into those wide, terror stricken eyes, a primal instinct ignited within me. I wasn’t going to leave this child behind to die. She was going to have a future.

  “It’s okay. We’ll get out of this mess,” I told her and myself.

  Opening the window, I saw that this side of the building was still safe from the fire.

  Hope flickered in me as I found a coil of paracord in my bag, just where it ought to be. It also died immediately when I failed to locate a strong anchor. No heavy-duty hooks embedded in the wall. No large fixtures.

  Nothing.

  The bed looked sturdy and heavy. I tied one end of the cord to its leg and pulled until my arms hurt. It didn’t budge. It would have to do.

  “All right. Let’s get out of here. Come here, cutie.”

  “Where’s my mommy?” she asked.

  “Out. Let’s go on an adventure and find her, eh?”

  I tried to build a harness around the little girl, but she wouldn’t stop squirming and screaming.

  I sighed. We would have to go down together.

  I tied her to my chest, which surprisingly calmed her down. Grimacing, I rigged a rappel harness around me. No proper climbing rope, harness or anchor. Everything was jerry-rigged.

  I put my head out the window to look down at the ground. My heart almost leapt into my mouth. The ground looked far more distant, now that I had to rappel down on my sketchy setup. But the air in the room was getting thick with smoke and heat, and flames had begun peeking out from the apartment below.

  It was now or never.

  Why not just let it end here? A tired voice in my head whispered.

  I considered it for a second, but that tiny face staring at me hardened my resolve.

  “Not today,” I said out loud.

  I somehow got myself out of the window, despite my shaking legs. My feet scrabbled for purchase and the rope hissed through my hands as I began to rappel.

  Release, release, release.

  I chanted the mantra as my palms, soft from months at a keyboard, burned with the strain of repeatedly gripping and releasing the rope. My body was shaking, but I was doing it. I lowered us down a story. A smile came upon me.

  We are going to make it.

  Then, the world dropped away.

  The rope went slack.

  We were in free fall.

  The bed’s leg must’ve given out, or the stupid cord snapped.

  It didn’t matter. I would not survive a five story fall, but maybe the little girl would.

  Please let her live.

  Those were my last thoughts as I curled myself around her and shut my eyes.

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