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And then it collapsed.
Flames and smoke billowed from the destruction, and the hose team fought to stay on their feet, aiming water at the structure, trying to keep the fire from spreading. Water sprayed wildly in the wind.
Then the ground rumbled again, and the sidewalk around the hydrant fractured. Water shot from the ground in a massive fountain. The fire hoses lost pressure and died.
Another rumble. The grass cracked and split again, stretching off into the darkness. The front yard seemed to be shifting in pieces, rolling like the sea. The house behind them creaked and threatened to collapse like the first. The fire trucks on the road bounced and shifted. People were yelling now, fear in their voices. Her radio was going crazy as people called orders and updates. She couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Another house across the court collapsed. Firefighters ran to escape the flying debris.
More wind blasted her cheeks, bringing smoke and ash.
And then, out of nowhere, one of Michael’s brothers skidded to his knees beside her.
One of the twins. She had no idea which. His clothes were filthy too, his skin darkened with soot.
She put a hand on his arm to push him back. “Gabriel—”
“Nick,” he corrected her. He grabbed Irish’s arm. “Stop.”
Irish didn’t stop—though his efforts lacked the fervor of his initial attempts to save Michael’s life. Hannah could read it in his expression. It had been at least three minutes.
The ground rumbled and shifted again. Irish swore and fought to keep his balance. “Kid, you need to get out of here before that house falls.”
“It’s his brother,” Hannah said. Her voice broke. “Nick—Nick, I need—”
“Stop. Both of you stop.” Nick’s voice was rushed and panicked. He grabbed Irish’s arm again and almost shoved. “I said stop.”
Irish stopped. Time seemed to hold still, the earth shifting below them, the wind slamming into them.
“Just stop,” Nick said again, his voice more steady. Wind whipped at their clothes and made Hannah shiver. The house behind them gave another loud creak. “Wait.”
She stopped. Held her breath.
For an instant, she thought maybe Nick knew something they didn’t, that all Michael needed was his brother’s presence and he’d sit up and ask what was going on.
Michael didn’t move.
Stupid, she told herself. She knew the limits of the human body as well as anyone else. Her eyes wanted to fill, but she could hold it together for his little brother.
Nick put a hand on his brother’s neck. “Michael,” he said softly, his words somehow carrying over the wind. “Mike. Wake up.”
Irish looked at her over Nick’s head. He shook his head.
“Nick,” she said, putting a hand over his. “Nick, the smoke—it works fast. His lungs may be too badly damaged—”
Nick sucked in a deep breath and pressed his mouth over his brother’s before she could even finish that thought.
Michael’s chest rose from the pressure and fell when Nick drew back.
And then rose again.
“He’s breathing!” Hannah grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. Irish reached for his neck.
Michael’s eyes opened. He squeezed them shut and blinked a few times. His arm jerked out of her hand.
“Take it easy, man,” said Irish. “We’re just—”
Michael shoved him away and fought to get off the ground. Irish and Oscar tried to hold him there.
