The pain hits my eyes again, and I’m blinking, fighting a losing battle against the sting.
“Fuck,” Liam breathes. “Jesus fuck.”
I don’t voice my own discomfort. My pain is secondary to whatever is happening with Liam.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“The building’s on fire, Freddie. Where are you?”
Everything clicks into place with a snap. I see it now. The whole picture. I keep my eyes closed and feel around, running my hand along the tops of the chairs, my makeshift cot.
“I’m in the canteen,” I say. “Second floor, at the top of the stairs, in the middle of the building.”
“I’m on my way, about ten minutes out,” Liam replies. “Ryker’s already there.”
Of course he is . . . ever the hero.
“He doesn’t know you’re inside. None of them do.”
That’s not good.
“I don’t want to hang up to call him,” Liam growls. “Can you get to the window?”
“I . . . I think so.”
“Don’t think,doit.”
I nod and begin to make my way over.
“Freddie?” Liam barks. “Don’t go quiet on me.”
Well, isn’t that ironic.
“I’m here,” I say. “I’m getting to the window.”
It’s a few metres, but I take my time, flashing my eyes open every step to glimpse my surroundings. I should know this place like the back of my hand, but throw in some fog, suck themoisture from the air, and it feels like I’m navigating Mars. The headache isn’t helping either, it throbs at my temples, and I’m dizzy too, swaying, almost overbalancing.
I’m drunk but without the pleasant side effects.
“I’m there,” I tell Liam. I knock my fist on the glass, but it’s a weak thud that I barely hear. They can’t see in. I remember feeling so smug about it a few days before when Liam and Ryker were parked outside, but now . . . now I’m in danger.
“Open the window.”
I frown. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” he blurts. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t fucking know what to do!”
Liam doesn’t sound like himself at all. His voice has jumped a few octaves, wheezing similarly to mine.
“I could call Ryker?”
He’ll know how to help Liam, I’m certain of it.
“Don’t you hang up on me, Freddie, you hear?”
I rest my forehead against the window, but it’s not soothingly cold like I expect. It’s warm, or my forehead is warm, I’m not sure. Either way, it offers me no relief. Cotton wool fills the space between my ears, and my temples continue to throb in time with my heartbeat. The pain expands into my jaw until that’s throbbing too.
I run my fingers along the bottom of the window, finding the catch and making my own decision.
