It wasn't as though he didn't know this was exactly what not to do. He had been instructed his entire life to never go into a burning building, or stay in one. He was old enough at 15 to know these things. Yet he ignored them.
The black air stung his eyes. He squatted as close to the ground as he could, but the smoke was simply too thick to see through. Then he heard a strange sound. Yet horrifying in the same instant. A grinding, straining sound. He didn't know what it was, but he did know he vehemently did not want to find out.
He tried to go a little faster in the zero visibility. The groaning filled his ears again, so loud it nearly muffled a cough. Nearly. "Hello?" Benjamin yelled. "Can you hear me?" It took a moment for a reply, and though there were no distinguishable words, that was all he needed.
It was getting hotter as he went along. Benjamin was sweating profusely, though some of that had to be from fear and nerves as well. Then from the black fog, he could see a spotlight shining through a large glass door. He nearly ran towards it, but he paid for his carelessness. He tripped over something in the floor and scraped a long, deep gash into his arm.
He didn't need to see that cut to know it would need stitches. But a startled cry interrupted him. He looked up to see that what he thought was a spotlight was actually the moon. But also another figure lying on the floor. Benjamin watched, relieved, as his chest still rose and fell. The stinging in his arm seemed to evaporate as he helped Mr. Anderson, on the verge of unconsciousness, into his wheelchair.
Throwing open the sliding glass door so hard that the back of the door nearly came off the track, he ran outside. He pushing Mr. Anderson into the fresh air, a feeling of triumphant euphoria sinking in. He had survived. But all that exertion was making Benjamin feel lightheaded.
He was now in the back yard, though he didn't take the time to notice this. and barely a moment or two into the safety of the grass, he crumpled into a heap.