She raced to the foreman’s office to look for a phone. The door was locked, so she took a nearby torch and broke through the glass. She cut her arm trying to find the latch, but it was nothing. She had to call someone.

She picked up the receiver. “There’s an emergency in the welding department! Send someone quickly!”

She slammed it down and hurried back to the woman, whose listless body frightened her. Margaret fell to the floor and scooped the woman into her lap, trying not to inhale the awful smell coming from her. As she waited for aid, she smoothed the woman’s hair, noticing that the ends were now crisp and crumbled to the touch. Her hands were burned, but it looked like they might be no more than superficial.

She rocked her as a mother might do.

“Help is coming,” she promised. “Help is coming.”

*  *  *

The next morning, Margaret was exhausted. She opened her eyes after too few hours of sleep. There were voices downstairs.

Her mother. Gladys.

What was Gladys doing here?

Margaret squeezed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Lord, she had an awful headache.

She remembered now. The woman had not woken up by the time the ambulance arrived, but they’d assured Margaret that she was alive and whisked her off on a stretcher.

Maybe Gladys had news.

Margaret’s feet found the slippers by the bedpost and she pulled her robe from its hook and put her arms into it. She felt like she was in a dream. That someone else was doing the actions.

Gladys was having a cup of coffee at their kitchen table. She stood up and walked a circle around Margaret.

“I don’t see it. It must be invisible.”

“What is?” Margaret asked. Exhaustion weighed on her like the heavy wool blankets that lay across her bed. She wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Your cape. Superwoman has one. I thought you might too.”

Margaret rolled her eyes and slumped into a chair. Her mother put a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and it was the best thing she’d ever smelled.

“Gladys is right, dear. You saved that woman’s life.”

Margaret perked up. “She’s alive?”

Gladys nodded. “George called, but you were still sleeping. So he called me. You’re a hero, my friend. And it gets better. She’s a widow with four small children. Ironically, her husband was a firefighter, but he lost his life in the line of duty. That job is all she has to support them.”

“Will she still be able to work?”

“Yep. Her hands will recover. She’ll have to bob her hair, but no damage beyond that.”

“I can’t believe there wasn’t a fire extinguisher or something.”

“There was. George went and checked. There are two. In a janitor’s closet. The foreman never pointed them out.”