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The door in question had no signs of warping. It wasn’t hot to the touch, but it was…jammed. I reached up to grab a screwdriver that had been crammed in between the hinges. There’d be no way to open it from either side.
I yanked the door open and turned my face away as hot air and smoke rushed out. “The door is open,” I yelled. “Can anyone hear me?”
“We’re coming,” a feminine voice yelled. “Need help, Kathy hurt herself…”
I didn’t recognize the name as I peered through the haze and the smoke. It was so dense in here I swore my chest burned. My eyes watered and then Aubrey Miller was there with Kathleen Ross. Behind her were three others, including a spark of blue hair. Relief hit as I reached for the injured girl.
“Give her to me,” I said. Her ankle was twisted at what had to be an uncomfortable angle. “Downstairs,” I ordered as I scooped her up. “Stay together.”
There were no arguments as they followed me down. I paused once or twice to make sure blue hair was still with us, but I kept losing her in the smoke. Outside, the cooler air hit like a sledgehammer.
I was coughing all the way over to the quad where the nurse and some of the security staff had set up. I passed them the wounded girl and turned around.
“How many, Harley?” I asked as soon as I found the RA.
“Four…four are missing…”
Four. I twisted, scanning the quad. I’d just brought out three or four. Where…
Aubrey Miller was racing past me back to the building when I caught her arm. “No, stay out. It’s too dangerous in there.”
“KC didn’t make it out. She was right behind me then she wasn’t.”
Shit.
“Stay,” I ordered before running back into the building. The hot air billowing out was suffocating. “KC,” I yelled as I took the steps two at a time. “Kaitlin…”
My heart stopped on the second floor where I found my blue-haired menace struggling with a pair of large guitar cases.
“What the hell are you doing?” I tried to wrench one away from her and she held onto it.
“I can’t leave them,” she said in a voice so raw it hurt my soul to hear it. “I need them…”
“They aren’t worth your life.”
“Yes,” she countered. “They are.”
“Give me one,” I ordered. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t leave it?” The fact she sounded like she was begging in between coughs rankled me.
“I won’t,” I said. “I promise. Come on, let me get you and the guitars out of here.”
Finally, she relented and I took the larger of the two cases. Then she let me pull her to her feet. She staggered but managed to stay on them. We were descending the stairs together, and she coughed with every step. It was a violent struggle to breathe.
“C’mon,” I encouraged her, hating my own raw cough.
The smoke was thick, the visibility low, but I’d already done this route three times. I knew how to get us out of here. She stayed with me, her hand firmly clasped in mine as we made it to the doorway.
If not for how tight she dug her fingers into my hand, I would have missed her wavering and the sudden laxness as she passed out. Guitars, be damned. I turned and got her over my shoulder then seized the guitar to take with us.
Outside, I carried her, nearly dropping the guitar twice. She’d inhaled a lot of smoke; we both had.
“I have it,” Aubrey was saying as she pried the guitar from my hand. I kept going, racing KC over to where they had the triage set up.
“She needs oxygen.” I put her down, then went back for the second guitar. She’d thought they were worth her life, so I wasn’t leaving the damn thing.
When I got back, she had an oxygen mask on. The flashing lights of emergency vehicles strobed through the smoke and the darkness. The sounds of sobbing filled the air. KC still struggled to breathe, even with the mask on. She coughed and kept trying to remove it even if her eyes were closed.
