Page 61

A cat hissed and sped past her. Hannah took a steadying breath and then began to cough. She should go back. The smoke was worsening. She’d been foolish to think no one had checked the area. Those who worked at the wharf would have a much better idea of where to find buckets. She turned and set her hand on the wall of the neighboring warehouse. The structure would guide her back, and if she was fortunate, her gloves would protect her fingers from splinters.

From the wharf, someone gave a warning shout. Seconds later, the burning building creaked, and a timber within fell. Sparks flew, and the flames surged higher. A woman screamed. Hannah pressed herself against the neighboring warehouse, breathing through her gloved hand. The fire was gaining traction. She must return to her father.

She took two unsteady steps toward the wharf before she heard another voice. At least she thought she had. She stopped and held completely still.

“’Elp! Someone ’elp me!”

Fear clutched her heart. She hadn’t imagined it. Worse still, it was coming from farther down the alley.

“’Elp!” the voice came again, more frantic than before.

Fetching reinforcements at the wharf was the most sensible course of action. But it would take time the person needing assistance may not have. Hannah knew what it was to feel responsible for the loss of another’s life. She would not—could not—allow it to happen again.

Turning back, she stumbled toward the far end of the alley.

“Where are you?” she cried.

“’Elp!”

“Where are you?” she tried again.

“Under th’ stairs!”

Under the stairs! What stairs? Hannah coughed. Her gloved hand was helping filter the smoke, but it would not be enough for long. “Keep calling out!” she shouted. “I will find you.”

“’Elp!”

Another crash—this time of broken glass. The orange glow behind her seemed suddenly brighter, illuminating the alley better than it had before. Hannah hazarded a glance over her shoulder and fought back a sob. The fire was spreading toward the back of the building. Already, flames had reached the next set of windows. She kept moving.

Up ahead, a black shadow marked a rectangular patch on the wall. Hannah strained to see it more clearly. A door. It had to be. Was the person she was hearing on the other side of it?

“’Elp! Please ’elp me!” The voice was louder but more frantic.

Hannah reached the darkened part of the wall. Not a closed door but an open doorway. No wonder she’d been able to hear the shouts above the other noise.

“Where are you?” she called again.

“’Ere! ’Ere!”

She stepped inside. Smoke swirled around her. She needed more light. The building shuddered. Dust and debris rained from above. Hannah pressed herself against the wall.

Someone on the wharf shrieked a warning. “The roof!”

The wood groaned, and then with a terrifying crack, the entire building shuddered. Hannah stumbled away from the wall, a portion of the roof above her giving way and tumbling to the ground. Flames roared in response to the gust of air, spreading their orange glow skyward and revealing the warehouse’s empty rear room and the severed staircase in the corner.

“’Elp!” This time, the voice was more of a sob.

“I’m coming!” Hannah cried, running toward the ladder of splintered wood that had once led to an upper floor.

She spotted the boot first. And then a leg. Judging by the size of it, it belonged to a boy. Dropping to her knees, she crawled forward, reaching for him. “I’m here,” she said, her voice raspy. “Can you move?”

“Th’ wood. It’s too ’eavy.” Fear rang through his words. “I can’t lift it off me.”

Setting her hands beneath the thick board that lay across the boy’s torso, she heaved upward. The wood shifted slightly but not nearly enough. She tried again. It moved a fraction more. She needed to cough to clear her lungs, but air in the warehouse was deteriorating rapidly.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“A-A-Alfie,” he said.