I find her by the gym doors. She’s on her knees with one hand braced flat against the metal and the other pressed over her face. Her eyes are enormous over her sleeve. She isn't crying. She's doing math, I can see her doing it, calculating the distance to a door she can't see.
"I couldn’t find the door.” She’s sobbing and I take her hand in mine. “I got so turned around and I can’t see.”
“Hey, we’re okay. I’ve got you. Let’s go.”
The sound of something crashing behind me makes me jump. I push Maya in front of me and keep a hand on her back. We make it past the second water fountain. I can see the exit sign through the smoke now. It’s blurred but red, and I shove her the last six feet through the doorway and into the stairwell.
Another loud bang has me gasping for air.
"Go. Go down. Don't stop."
Maya does. I turn to follow her. But when I do, the hallway behind me isn't a hallway anymore. Instead it's a wall. It’s black,moving, and disorienting. The smoke line is lower than it was four seconds ago. Somehow it just dropped like a curtain.
The floor is hot through the soles of my flats and my head spins. I drop to my knees and try to see the way out. Cough into the crook of my elbow. Try to crawl and get maybe a foot before I have no idea if I’m heading in the right direction or straight back into the flames.
This can’t be how it ends. I didn’t do all of this to end up stopping right before the finish line. And to think, I never even unpacked my kitchen.
CHAPTER 2
TESSA
Whispering Pines DispatchCenter
[ALERT TONE]
Whispering Pines Fire, all units. This is Dispatch, Tessa Nguyen. I have a confirmed structure fire at the high school. Building is occupied. School is in session with a full evacuation in progress.
We have multiple 911 calls reporting heavy smoke, visible from the parking lot. Reports of at least one teacher re-entering the building to assist a student. Repeat, occupants confirmed inside. Engine, ladder, and command requested. EMS, stage at the scene for possible smoke inhalation with multiple patients.
Wind out of the northwest. I have a mutual aid request going out to neighboring departments. Caller traffic still active. Time out, ten-forty-seven.
All responding units, copy?
[ALERT TONE]
CHAPTER 3
JORDAN
I'mfirst through the door. My mask is sealed with the air on. The radio in my ear chatters callsigns and floor numbers. The hose team is six feet behind me. My hand is on the doorframe of the east stairwell and the heat is coming up through the metal like it's alive.
This is the moment I’ve trained for.
Teacher. Re-entered the building. Second floor.
That's all I need to know. From there I take the stairs two at a time with my axe in my off hand. Light cuts maybe four feet ahead of me before the smoke eats it. When I reach the second-floor landing the door pushes open and thick, dark air billows around me.
I go low and crawl the line of the floor lights. I pass a trophy case I can feel but not see, followed by a water fountain. I reach a stairwell when the radio says something about wind and I don't process it because there's a shape on the floor up ahead. It’s slumped at the base of the stairwell, not moving.
I get to her on my knees.
She’s got her sleeve pressed over her mouth and her glasses fogged so badly I can't see her eyes. Her hand is still curledaround the fabric like she'd been holding it there when she went down.
I act on autopilot. This isn’t going to happen on my watch. I move to get an arm under her shoulders. The other slips under her knees and I lift her against my chest like she weighs nothing. I turn and go. We move low and fast and I talk to her the whole way.
"I've got you, sweetheart. Breathe shallow. Eyes open for me. That's it. Good girl."
I don't know if she can hear me and it doesn't matter. You talk to them. You keep talking. You give them a voice to follow when their eyes and lungs don't want to work. Somewhere down in the part of the brain that still functions when everything else has quit, a voice means,I’ve got you. I’m here and I won’t let you go.
