Another small explosion, this time in the shop, shattered the glass cabinets and sent bales of cloth tumbling from the shelves. Sharp screams. People looked around. The blast seemed to come from the ceiling, but the rafters looked intact. Noise seemed to come from all around them. They did not know where danger would come from next.
The fire was spreading in the kitchen now, encouraged by more small explosions which belched and spurted amidst the flaming mass. The old wooden rafters began to crash down onto the blackened stoves and the sacks of rice. There was no means of escape through the rear of the building now. Johnny heard screams. Someone, maybe more than one person — he couldn’t see — trapped in the fiery tomb. He saw a figure stumbling blindly in the flames; it passed like a shadow across his field of vision, howling in terror. He turned his back and went to the front of the shop, where the air was clear.
“Everybody, run!” he screamed as loudly as he could. “Stand far away!”
The crowd now assembled outside moved slowly backwards. They saw Johnny’s face contorted with anguish. His eyes could barely open in the heat of the fire and his face was black with soot; his mouth grimaced, turning upwards, smile-like, at the corners. Behind him they could see the first of the flames from the kitchen begin to leap and lick at the main room at the front of the shop. Smoke was now smothering Johnny, but still he stood at the doorway with his arms stretched out on either side of his body to prevent anyone from going back into the fire.
“Come out here with us!” people shouted.
Instead, Johnny turned around and dived into the smoky, fiery sea.
There were small gasps and cries of confusion, followed by a prolonged silence. Everyone knew that Johnny had gone back in to save those who were still trapped inside. He was going to save his father-in-law. He was risking his life for people who were in all likelihood already dead. But if anyone could save those poor souls, it was Johnny.
No one was certain how long he remained in that fire-filled hell. Some said as little as ten minutes, others said a whole hour. All, however, agreed that it felt like a lifetime. The morning’s heavy rain continued to fall, but it did not seem to lessen the ferocity of the blaze. Where each raindrop fell on the inferno, a thin column of mist hissed into the air, and as the fire grew stronger the whole shop became transformed into a giant spitting monster, shrouded in haze. It was later said that this hellish creature could be seen fifty miles away, from the slopes of Maxwell Hill.
The crowd backed away even further, for the heat was too intense now even for their rain-soothed faces to bear. They could feel the glow of the fire throbbing on their cheeks, even as they covered their noses and mouths to protect against the choking smoke. Several of them exhanged glances now and then. No man on earth could withstand that fire; only a god could survive that long in a fire like that, their eyes said. Another small explosion caused half the shopfront to collapse across the entrance. Many people thought: Surely this is the end of Johnny now.
What happened next is not disputed by any of the surviving eye-witness accounts. Old or young, man or woman, Chinese, Indian, Malay — all say the same thing. They were not crazy from the heat or the shock, they did not imagine it. It actually happened.
The flames, they say, parted.
The dancing fire opened up, separating in two as if commanded by Allah, Guan Yin, Moses, Shiva — whomever.
And out of the parted flames emerged Johnny. All around him the great fire burnt strong and bright, but it did not touch him. He walked steadily and firmly, his magnificent head held proudly. On his shoulder he supported the limp, soot-blackened body of his father-in-law. Next to T.K., Johnny appeared fresh and unspoilt. Though his face was dirty, his eyes shone brightly. He carried T.K. out to the crowd of people and laid him gently on the ground. Slowly, Johnny took off his own shirt and held it aloft to catch the rain. He touched it to T.K.’s face, cleaning away the soot; he put his ear to T.K.’s mouth, listening for the faint breaths, and then, slowly, he looked up at the anxious faces around him. He smiled a gentle smile and his eyes said, I have saved this man.
Everyone remained still and silent. There was no need to speak. As they looked at Johnny the same thought ran through their minds: This man was no mere human, he was something more.
