Page 61 of Scorched

Paul slammed backagainst the concrete walls of the building, the air knocked from his lungs. When the explosion rocked the school, he’d been on his way to the gymnasium in a separate building, where a teacher had said she’d last seen George Slater.

Adrenaline got his heart going and he sucked in a long, deep breath, restoring oxygen to his brain. Then, he was on his feet and running through the darkened hallways. His path snarled with screaming women and crying children. Unable to move through them, he located an exit and helped the frightened parents outside. Cloud-cloaked skies made nightfall before its time. The rain continued to pour down in torrents, soaking his view and blinding him to the darkness. Had Elise made it out? Were there others trapped in thebuilding?

Bright flames licked through the roof of the building in the direction of the gymnasium. Paul ducked back inside. He had to get to Elise.

“Help me, please!” A woman grabbed his arm, coughed and pulled him toward the smoke. “My son was in the gymnasium getting a soda from the machine. I think he’s still in there.”

“What’s his name?”

“Michael.”

“Paul? Paul? Is that you?” Elise materialized out of the smoke, her wool scarf pulled up over her nose and eyes, a flashlight shaking in her hands. “Oh, thank God!”

“Elise, get this woman outside. I’m going back in.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, it will be faster if I go without you. Please take this woman outside.”

“My son is in there. I have to find him.” The woman headed toward the gymnasium, tears streaming from her eyes.

Elise grabbed her arm and held tight. “You have to let Paul find him. He’s trained in this kind of thing.” She handed him the flashlight she’d been holding and unwound the scarf from her neck. “Take these and hurry.”

Paul wrapped the scarf around his nose and mouth, hunkered low and ran down the hallway toward the gymnasium.

He shined his light in the open doorways, searching for victims too scared or disoriented to find their wayout. When he made it to the gymnasium, the smoke was getting so thick his eyes burned, and the scarf was doing little to keep the smoke from his lungs. He coughed and yelled through the fabric, “Michael!”

Was that a groan? Paul closed his eyes to the smoke and listened.

Another groan.

Paul ducked low and peered beneath the layer of rising smoke, shining his flashlight across the floor. He spotted what looked like two lumps of rags near the vending machines. One moved.

“Michael!”

“Over here,” a scratchy voice called out, followed by coughing.

Paul crawled on his hands and knees toward the sound, tucking the scarf securely around his face. “Gotta get out of here.”

“No, duh.” More coughing led Paul to the downed boy.

“Are you hurt?”

“My ankle hurts.” A coughing fit racked his body. When he tried to stand, he yelped and dropped to the floor. “I can’t walk.”

“Grab around my neck and hold on.” Paul hooked his arm around the boy’s back and lifted.

“Wait. There’s someone else over there.”

Paul glanced over his shoulder at the limp form on the floor. “I can only move one of you at a time.”

“It’s...” Michael coughed. “The janitor.”

The very person Paul had been looking for. “First, let’s get you out, then I’ll come back for him.”

Running low to the ground, Paul hauled Michael out of the gymnasium and down the hall toward the exit, the boy hopping on his good foot. One of the parents met them close to the exit and took over. Paul, his lungs burning, blinking back the smokey tears in his eyes, jogged back into the building. He found his way to the gymnasium, the smoke nearly overwhelming him. He slid to his knees and crawled the rest of the way to the man lying on the floor near the vending machines.

He was a full-sized adult, weighing as much if not more than Paul. Fighting the effects of the smoke, Paul grabbed the man underneath his arms and dragged him back the way he’d come, one slow, agonizing floor tile at a time.

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