The brain suddenly cleared and great vision appeared, the iron rod holder directly to my left was just a kid, a few years shy of me, a few inches shorter and most importantly, a few significant sizes smaller. He accidently jumped onto my right fist and my helmet at the same time. Foolish boy and a gap appeared whence before the unfortunate boy was standing. I went for the gap with the gentle giant in tow.
It wasn't particularly a long dash out to other side of the building, even the gentle giant was going at it at a speed usually reserved for avoiding death, etc. The long period was spent at the other side, where we were safe, uninjured, safe road home, image intact, but the gentle giant was somewhat solemn.
He said, "Bu, what about them?" The look, his expression, here was a guy who was scared to death and he still wanted to go back in there, facing the iron rods because of his friends, my friends. Damn it, felt really embarrased leaving them now.
Am goin in, back in, mind sending litany of logical explanation not to do so but his look of scared determination pushed me into doing it. We went back in + one discarded brick and newspaper around our waist to shell the body a bit against knives and iron rod hits.
We went back in ...
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