Page 58 of Zenith
“Edward!” I screeched, trying to pull him up. “Get up!Get up!”
“Jane?” he muttered as I tugged him into a sitting position.
Grasping his shoulders, I shook him violently. “Get up, Edward Rochester, or we’re both going to die!”
It seemed to work. His eyes flew open, his left was bloodshot, and he pushed to his feet with a grunt pain. Hope seared through my veins, and I flung his arm over my shoulder and carried as much of his weight as I could manage as we began to shuffle through the burning shell of Thornfield as it crumbled around us.
Edward had done most of the work by getting to the gallery from the eaves, so there was not much farther to go. It was a stroke of luck in an otherwise treacherous story, and I was glad for it. Our fight had not been for nothing, for it had given us the power to face this disaster head on. We did not cower in the face of adversity. We went on because wehad to. It was that simple.
The moment we stepped through the entrance, the support wall collapsed, showering us in a spray of sparks that pricked painfully against my bare legs, and I propelled us forward with a final burst of power.
We emerged into the night, and as oxygen filled my starved lungs, I began to cough violently. We kept going, working our way toward the wall of fire trucks that had appeared, and finally, Edward stumbled, and we fell to the ground, gravel digging into my flesh. He rolled onto his back with a moan, and I scrambled to his side, vaguely aware that cool water from an array of fire hoses was misting down over us.
“Edward…”
In the flashing red and blue light from the fire trucks, I could see his face clearly, and I almost burst into tears. He was burned quite badly—the beam had struck him across the left side of his face, and his flesh was completely seared. His eyes were flaring red, blood oozing from his wounds. The pain he must be in…
“Jane…” he rasped, reaching out for me. “Jane.”
“They’re safe,” I said, clutching his hand in mine. “They’re all here.”
“Bertha,” he muttered, his gaze fixing on mine. “She…”
I shook my head gently, knowing I’d never forget the sight of her falling from the battlements…then striking the ground.
“There was nothing to be done,” I said gently. “She’s gone.”
Hands appeared on my shoulder as unknown faces pulled us apart, and I fought against them, never wanting to leave Edward’s side again. Gentle voices coaxed me into the back of an ambulance, the bright lights drowning out the night as an oxygen mask was placed over my face. I watched the chaos outside as water was blasted over the fire and people were rushed to safety.
A gurney appeared at my side bearing Edward, his face raw and bleeding, and I began to feel sick at the sight of his injuries. He was unconscious now, though his chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing. I was completely numb as the door closed, and the siren began to wail, the ambulance carrying us toward the hospital at breakneck speed.
Staring out the back windows at the skyline, I couldn’t see the stars at all. The universe was dull, drowned out by the destruction we’d left behind. The moor was silent, the only sound for miles was the wailing of sirens, and in the distance, Thornfield continued to burn.
I found Edward’s hand and held it tightly. There was nothing we could do now. Nothing at all.
