When They Know the Truth

He could hear screams. Driving his beat up old moped down Broadway, Peter Parker could sense the terror of people fifty blocks away. Something was very wrong. Turning into a narrow alley, he ditched the moped behind a dumpster and began to strip. Suddenly his spider sense shrieked in warning, sending violent shivers down his spine. He had to get to those people NOW. Still wearing his jeans he pulled on his mask and took off, letting his instincts guide him.

When he reached the scene he dropped onto a nearby rooftop and gaped. He had been in many fires, but none so big as this. The apartment building was huge, at least fifty stories tall, each story filled with frantic, terrified, helpless civilians. Peter could already tell that he would never get to them all in time. The fire was explosive and strong, and the building was already on the verge of collapse. This was not the first time in his six years of webswinging that Peter had felt defeat, but each time hurt as much as the first one.

I may not be able to save all of them, but I can save some, he thought determinedly, and jumped forward. He swung feet first through a window on an upper floor and was greeted by an onslaught of smoke. He was standing in a hallway, and people were rushing every which way, dodging falling debris, coughing and screaming. Grabbing a middle aged man and his son in one arm, Peter jumped back out the broken window. After getting them safely to the sidewalk, he pulled himself up again. The fire trucks had arrived, and were trying to douse the inferno. They might as well have been using Dixie cups for all the good it did. But Peter had never been so happy to see ladders in all his life. Thanks to the firemen, he wouldn't have to worry about the first twenty or so stories. Which only left… thirty.

Oh brother.

Plunging back into the building, he grabbed two more people and brought them to safety.

If only I really did have eight legs. They would come in handy at times like this.

Time passed slowly. Again and again he made the trip to the upper stories and back again. His throat was filled with smoke, and he was finding it difficult to breath. Every minute the building remained standing was a gift from heaven. As the firemen worked to clear the lower stories, and the crowd of people saved from the upper stories grew, Peter began to think that maybe there wouldn't be many casualties after all.

He was just about to launch himself upward for what seemed to be the gazillionth time when Peter felt something tugging at the now filthy jeans he had not had time to discard. Looking down, he saw a little boy, tears streaming down his face leaving streaks on the soot – covered cheeks. Crouching down, he held the boy by the shoulders and asked him what he wanted. He pointed up at the building with a trembling finger and choked out, "It's my mom. She's still up there."

Glancing up in the direction the boy was pointing, Peter said, "What floor?"

"T - third from the top. Our window is right next to the gargoyle. She g - got trapped in her… in her room," he stuttered through his tears. Peter nodded and patted the boy on the shoulder.

"I'll get her," he reassured him. Shooting a web at the specified gargoyle, he pulled himself up and smashed through the window.

The room was filled with smoke. Peter felt like he was suffocating, and the mask wasn't helping. Yanking it off, he yelled, "Where are you? Hello?"

There was no answer. He could hear the floor groaning, and knew it would not be long before the whole thing fell down. But he had promised that boy that he would get his mother, and he was not about to break that promise. Searching the room through squinted eyes, at first he saw nothing. But on second inspection, he made out a dark form huddled against the wall next to the bed. Vaulting over the couch, he rushed to the unconscious woman's side and gathered her up in his arms. He made for the window, but it was too late. His spider sense screamed in warning a split second before the floor collapsed beneath him.

It seemed as though he fell for an eternity. He could not shoot a web without dropping the woman. Crashing through beams and burned away floorboards, he somehow managed to protect the boy's mother from the worst of the impacts. Finally, his body met something that would not give. Pain rocketed through him and the breath was driven from his body. But it all seemed worth it when he looked down and saw the woman, unhurt and still breathing.

The floor groaned again, sending a jolt of fear through him. Staggering upright, he hoisted the woman over his shoulder and looked around, searching for a way out. His stomach dropped like a stone. He was completely surrounded by debris. No windows, no doors, nothing. For a second he was tempted to just start throwing things out of the way, but then reason intervened. Anything he moved might send the rest of the floors crashing down on top of him.

All right Peter. Time to use that brain of yours. How are you gonna get out of this one?

He closed his eyes and thought back. Up in the woman's apartment, the windows had been on his right. Assuming they had not turned around as they fell, the windows should still be on the right.

That's a very big if.

So if he could just dig through the debris without moving anything too crucial to the stability of the building, sooner or later he would come to a window.

That's also a very big if.

Well, there was no helping that. So he got to work.

Time seemed to creep forward with all the suspense and infuriation of Chinese Water Torture. Moving quickly was not an option, because anything done in haste might end up killing them both. But the groans and creaks coming from below them were constant reminders of how little time they had.

Finally, Peter saw light. Excitedly, he pulled away the debris surrounding the broken window.

Creak. Groan. Crack.

Oh, shit.

Frantically, he grabbed the woman by the shirt and dragged her toward the opening. The space he had cleared was not big, but it would have to be enough. The building was coming down, and not even a miracle would stop it.

They smashed through the opening just as the ceiling fell. It was quickly followed by the rest of the building. Desperate to get some distance between them and the falling debris, Peter shot out a webline at a nearby building. Once again, he found himself unable to shoot another one without dropping his helpless passenger.

Lady, this would be a really great time for you to wake up, he thought to himself as the hard brick wall of the building loomed closer and closer. Turning his body at the last second, he hit the wall with his back and lost his grip on the webline. Luckily, it was only a few stories down to the sidewalk. Peter didn't feel all that lucky when he hit the pavement, however.

He could hear footsteps coming closer, and rolled the comatose woman off his chest. He hoped she was okay, and that she would wake up to see her son's smiling face. Struggling for breath through a smoke – clogged throat, and probably several broken ribs, Peter could feel darkness encroaching. He coughed explosively and gripped his chest in pain. And as he felt consciousness leave him, he finally remembered that his mask, the only thing that kept his identity a secret, was still in that building, buried under the remains of that woman's apartment.

A/N: And the chapter ends. Next one will be up soon!

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