The Light in the Tunnel

Its evening time, the forest seems a haze of red and green. The sky's crimson fills his thoughts. It is quite all around nothing but the wind in the leaves, rolling of water down a creek and the occasional cry of the birds. The valley slopes down and the sunset is barely visible through the maple leaves by the west over the canopy. The distant rumble warns him of the rains. But he just can't move from the rock he sits on. Its a small peak, the stone, its his hideaway. There is no one around for miles and the nearest sign of life is a half hour trail away. He is here alone. His shelter made out of wood he collected. He sits there everyday, every evening to watch the sunrise and the sunset. The creek gives him water and the supply of food would last him a week more. Its time to go home.
The night is rich with stars and its cold. The breeze blows through the openings of his little hut. A blanket covers his cuddled body. The rain has made the night cold and water seeps into the ground of his hut. The wind blows through the openings and slams down a photo frame. The glass cracked the photo of him and his family faces up, getting wet in the rain. He shivers and flinches in his nightmares and wakes up with tears in his eyes, sweating, breathing heavy. He looks around and picks up the wet photo wiping it on his shirt and folding it, putting it in his pocket. The hut is unstable and it sways as if it is about to fall. He hears flames and knows he can't stay there long. He puts all his belongings into a backpack and climbs down the hill. The creek leads into a tunnel one he hadn't entered out of fear. He hadn't seen the other end of it and didn't know where it lead to. But the road nearby had a fuel tanker that crashed and there were flames all around.
With water in the creek in flames and in the tunnel too, the pathway through the tunnel was a difficult route though that was the only one. He just kept running. All he had was now lost. All he had now is in his backpack. The smoke was making it hard to breathe and he found that he couldn't see. With nothing to guide him but the railing and the slight glow of the fire far behind he kept running. A doorknob reached his hand and he opened it. He was in a small closet with a bulb and tools around him. He sat there with the door open. He doesn't know how long he has been running or what time of the day it is. He cries himself to sleep. He is exhausted. Awaken by the sound of flames and the heat he starts running again. He sees a light at the end of the tunnel and thanks his angels for the rescue. The tunnel seems to be flooding and the fire raised, moving faster. It's dawn and the sun is just rising over the horizon. He is at the end of the tunnel. A mist of smoke seems to linger outside. Maple burning everywhere, he just walked into a forest fire. But it seems a better chance than the inferno he left behind.
He opens his eyes once more. Every thing is moving around him, the ceiling, people, the walls, windows. He raises his hand and finds his photograph burnt, only knees and a little boy's image remains. The tears hurt his burnt face as they roll down. Through whats left of his photograph he sees the sign board " Emergency Ward" pass by. One of the men in the uniform asks him," Sir, what is your name? Do you have any family I could contact?"
His tears roll down faster. The question is repeated. And he says "No".

"We are loosing him! Come on people work faster"
The constant beep slows down. The tone becomes constant.
"We lost him......."