Panic shot through me. He was trying to break through. Or pull it loose.
I got halfway turned when I felt it...
A hand, crushing around my ankle.
“No... no, no, no...”
I thrashed, kicked, and clawed. He pulled again, and my hands went out from under me, slamming my face into the ground. Dirt filled my nose and mouth, but I didn’t care.
I couldn't.
He yanked again, dragging me backward. The light disappeared. My body scraped over stone, splinters tearing at my calves. He was strong, wounded, but high on adrenaline and hate.
I knew if he got me, that would be it.
I had to keep moving... do something.
I flipped to my back, panicked and primal.
And without thinking...
BANG.
The second shot was blind.
His grip released.
I didn’t wait to see why.
I couldn't stop to think about if I had just taken a life.
I scrambled to flip back onto my stomach, the grip on the gun white knuckled... and I surged forward on elbows and knees, every movement frantic, lungs burning, heart jackhammering against my ribs. I didn’t dare look back. I just prayed he wasn’t following, that I hadn’t missed, that the fire wouldn’t collapse the crawl space with me still in it.
Another sound.
A gunshot. Farther away.
Not mine.
Was it Gray?
Was it someone shootingathim?
Please let him be ok.
I pushed harder. Dirt crumbled beneath my palms, and my feet felt like they had gone numb. Smoke curled through the slats and stung my eyes. The air was getting hotter. Thicker.
I reached the hatch.
It took everything I had left to lift it. My fingers barely worked,scraped raw, trembling. The wood and metal groaned under my grip, and for one awful moment, I thought it was stuck.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please, just open...”
It gave.
Smoke poured down over me, suffocating and acrid. It felt like I was choking... drowning.
Keep moving, Ava, you have to move.
