A barefoot child was crying nonstop and pounding on the car door with his fists. When I got closer and looked inside, a chill ran through me. I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed 911.

I was walking towards my car when I noticed him. A small boy, barefoot on the scorching asphalt, was pounding with his fist on the black door of a sedan. Alone. No adults, no voices around — just his broken sobs and the dull thuds on the metal.

I stopped. The scene looked like it was ripped from a nightmare: a child in the middle of the parking lot, red eyes, trembling hands, and around — emptiness. I approached, my heart pounding in my throat. He pointed to the car, hit the door again, and broke into sobs.

I leaned toward the glass. Fogged. The boy tugged at my hand and pointed inside again.

The child was still crying, and I held him close. I got closer to the car and leaned over the windshield. What I saw inside stunned me. Without wasting a second, I grabbed my phone and dialed 911…

Continued in the first comment 

When the rescuers arrived and we opened the car together, everything became clear. On the front seat lay an unconscious woman. Later it turned out — she was the boy’s mother.

She had felt unwell at the wheel and at that moment realized that exhaust fumes were entering the cabin.

She had just enough strength to pull her son out, but she could not get out herself. The door slammed shut, leaving the child outside, and her — inside, unable to help herself.

The woman was rushed to the hospital. For several hours, doctors fought for her life, and fortunately, she managed to recover.

The boy was also under medical observation: aside from severe stress, he only had scratches and feet damaged by the asphalt.

I stood nearby and couldn’t stop thinking that all of this could have ended much worse. One small step — and the story would have had a completely different ending.