Chapter 30 Alex
Alex
Ana kneeled on the line where she had collapsed, mere feet from her best friend’s body.
One inch would push her over. From the look of her, she probably wouldn’t care.
Alex put his arms around her and tried to edge her gently away from the line, pull her back to safety.
He tried to keep his eyes away from the small figure lying curled up in the dirt like a fragile, dead bird. Discarded.
“No, please, no,” Ana was sobbing.
Alex wrestled her away, dragging her back out of harm’s reach. The red truck was getting uncomfortably close.
“Not Raya. No…please…not Raya…” She kept fighting him, reaching for Raya. It was all he could do to keep her on this side of the line.
“Raya’s gone,” he whispered in her ear. “She’s gone. That’s not her, Ana. Not anymore. There’s nothing you can do.”
He engulfed her in his arms and held her tight, willing her to be okay. She was shaking from head to toe. He bent his head down, burying his face into her hair, breathing her in, just moments before so all-consuming, now laced with grief and sorrow.
How could this be happening? They had found the hatch. They were going to get out of here. All of them. What the hell went wrong?
The truck was close now. They didn’t need to see this. Alex scooped Ana up in his arms and turned them both away, heading back to the motel.
The sound of the truck pulling up followed them. Voices, doors slamming, thuds and bangs, everything tinged with a sense of horror. This wasn’t the way it should end—not for Raya. Not for anyone. But especially not Raya.
Alex’s room was close, the door left open, flies buzzing around the entrance in a lazy cloud.
There was no fight left in Ana. He felt her strength leave her, her weight bearing on him more and more as they walked away from their friend for the last time. He half-carried her into the dim room, kicking the door shut behind them as they both collapsed onto the bed.
Alex felt tears behind his eyes. Furious tears of grief and frustration. They’d had a chance, a real chance to get out of here. Why now? After everything they’d been through, what was the point?
He looked down at Ana. She was curled up, her dark skin unnaturally pale, her eyes closed. He knew that expression. Shock.
It had been on all their faces a year ago.
All the kids, teachers, even the firefighters and paramedics as they’d faced the horror in the gym.
He’d been in the restroom when the fire started, one building down from the old gym block.
He hadn’t seen the things Ana and the others had seen.
But he had heard the sounds and felt the sheer terror.
They were kept well away, behind cordons, a wall of police holding them back. Rows of waiting ambulances and police cars lined the parking lot, well behind the front line—the fire trucks, flashing lights, sirens screaming.
He had stood there, scanning the faces of the kids running from the flames, desperately searching for a familiar face, a flash of dark hair, a red hoodie. Danny and Ana. They had to be there. They had to.
He hadn’t known then. It was only later, much later, that the rumors started. Messages cutting into the fear. Texts, snaps, desperate calls. Rumors that became a reality. He had never deleted the texts he got that day—the moment he knew:
Ana:
plz come to the hospital
Ana:
its danny
Grabbing a pillow, he gently tucked it under Ana’s head, fully aware of the futility of the gesture. She didn’t even know he was there.
He stroked her forehead softly. She felt cold and clammy despite the heat. He knew this. They’d been here before. The green hospital corridor. The red plastic chairs. Sitting together, waiting. She hadn’t spoken then; she wouldn’t speak now.
Her breathing was shallow and fast, her fists clenched, just like last time; after the doors from surgery swung open, after the doctor walked over and asked if Danny’s mother had arrived yet, after she took Ana’s hand and said she was very sorry.
Ana had gone to the same dark place, beyond his reach, beyond anyone’s reach. There was nothing he could do then—or now.
Alex just had to be there and wait.
As long as she needed. He would wait.