Chapter 31 Ana #2
Panic coursed through her. They would have to run underneath the fire. The whole roof was burning. What if it collapsed on them? They would be trapped. There was nowhere to go—there was no time.
There had to be another way out. She grabbed Danny’s hand.
“There’s another door. A fire door.” Danny looked at her, confused. She pointed behind them, at the door to the locker rooms and back hallway. “There’s a fire exit at the end of the hall. We can get outside from there!”
It went against every instinct to head in the opposite direction to everyone else, but they were already here. The fire exit was so close—just through the door. They could make it. They would be outside in moments.
Danny nodded. He understood. He turned and ran to the back door, pushing through it, Ana at his heels.
The air in the hallway was black with smoke.
Coughing and spluttering, eyes burning, they made their way to the end, feeling their way along the walls, until they found the fire door.
Relieved, they slammed into the panic bars.
The door cracked open, but then stopped.
Something was blocking it. Danny shoved it hard, rattling it. Something on the outside held firm.
“Fuck! Ana, help me!” Both of them crashed their shoulders against the door, together. Over and over. It wouldn’t budge. Through the crack they could see a heavy chain padlocked between the handles. There was no way they could break through it.
The smoke was unbearable; Ana’s throat was burning with every choking breath. The hallway seemed to be getting hotter and hotter. The fire must be getting closer. Was it in the hallway? They had to get out. Now. They had to.
She banged on the door. Through the glass panel, they could see the dark night outside, figures moving, staring at their trapped faces, pointing. So near, but so far.
“Help us!” Ana shouted to them. “Please!”
“Open the door!” Danny rattled hard on it. Useless.
The figures moved closer, pulling at the chain on the other side. It wouldn’t budge. Scared faces, heads shaking desperately, voices.
“We can’t open it!” “We’ll get help.” “Just stay there.”
Just stay there…? Where the hell else were they supposed to go?
A wave of intense heat caught the back of Ana’s neck. Slowly she turned, terrified to look back. The fire was at the far end of the hallway, fingers of flame reaching, burning towards them. The air was unbreathable; they were choking, coughing, gasping for air. They didn’t have time to wait.
The door back to the gym was blocked by the flames now. There was no way out, short of running through the fire. They were trapped.
The locker room.
There were windows in there. Weren’t there? Ana wasn’t sure. She tried to focus, to concentrate, to picture the locker room in her mind. Yes! There was daylight. She was sure of it.
“Locker room. We need to get to the locker room!” Ana tried to shout, her voice stolen by the roar of the flames. She broke into a spasm of coughing as she pointed desperately behind them. With every breath she was inhaling more smoke, less air, her chest burned.
Danny shook his head.
“No. They’ll come. They’ll open the door.”
Flames filled half the hallway now, violently lashing around, racing through the space. It was like nothing Ana had ever experienced. Wild, terrifying, consuming. Closer and closer. A lick of flame brushed over her. She smelled the hairs on her arm burn. They were going to die if they stayed here.
“Danny, we can’t wait!” Ana forced the words out, forced them through the coughing. “A window…in the locker room. A window.”
“No. They’ll come.” Danny shook his head, turning back to the door, rattling on it, clinging to the handles.
Ana grabbed his T-shirt, turning him to face her. She had to make him understand.
“Danny—we’ll die here. You need to trust me.”
Their matching eyes locked together. A second, maybe two—that was all it took to seal their fate. He nodded. The decision was made. It was easy. Ana was the brains. Danny trusted her. Always.
“Go!”
They pushed away from the exit towards the locker-room door. Danny went in first, holding the door open for her. Ana was about to follow him when a scream stopped her in her tracks.
Maia Walsh was standing in front of the burning gym door. She must have followed them into the hallway.
She was rigid, her arms clinging to her backpack, her face locked in a grimace of fear, mouth open. Her curly dark hair was gone, replaced by a wild curtain of flames. She was on fire.
“MAIA!” Ana ran across the hallway, her hand reaching for Maia’s arm. But her fingers never reached her.
Maia staggered backwards, half-falling; her silhouette lit up in flames as she fell through the gym doorway. The fire surged around her, swallowing her whole.
Ana fell back. Horror cut through the fear. She almost dropped to the ground. Almost. The image of Maia was seared into her eyes. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t.
“Ana!” Danny’s voice cut through the noise.
She had to get to the locker room. She turned, willing her limbs to work, to get her out of this, away from here.
Danny was in the doorway, still waiting for her.
The flames were everywhere. It was too much.
She shook her head, desperate to clear her thoughts.
Move, she thought. Move. But her legs weren’t behaving.
“ANA!” Danny shouted. “Listen to my voice. You need to come now!”
His voice released her, unlocking her fear. Suddenly she was back. She started moving, started towards the locker room, towards Danny. Started.
But it was too late.
It happened so fast. The ceiling tiles near them caught fire, lighting up like a match.
Flames ripped along the hallway ceiling.
A wall of heat knocked Ana over. She fell to the ground, away from the locker-room door as the entire ceiling collapsed, crashing inches from her feet, blocking the doorway.
Coughing, terrified, she crawled back, away from the flames, in the only direction left to her, back to the locked exit door.
Reaching out, she grabbed the panic bars desperately.
The metal was burning hot now, and pain seared through her hands, her skin.
She gasped, falling back into the corner of the door frame, holding her scorched hands protectively to her.
Fire everywhere. Smoke everywhere. This was it.
She was going to die here. She sank to the ground, curled up into a ball.
She could smell her burned skin as the fire reached for her. Terror coursed through her.
She was going to die. She was going to die.
She didn’t hear when the exit door crashed open, pried apart by someone with a crowbar. She didn’t feel the hands dragging her outside. Just her. Alone. Into the cold, night air. Coughing and coughing.
Smoke followed her, pouring through the doorway behind her. There were voices, people. Everything was a blur. Nothing registered, except one thing, one desperate thought—Danny is still inside.
Pulling herself to her feet, Ana turned to go back, but hands stopped her. There was no door anymore, just a burning maw, tongues of flame licking out at them. Taunting them.
“Help my brother…locker room…have to go back…” She was coughing, spluttering, but too many hands held her back.
“Too late.” “Can’t go back.” “So sorry…”
“No, no, please!” She was begging—desperate.
The locker-room window. Where was it? She scanned the high gym wall, looking for the window, finally seeing it, almost hidden in the heavy smoke. There it was, high up. A small, narrow clerestory window. Too small. Too narrow. Too high.
There was no way someone could reach it, let alone escape through it. Why had she not remembered that? Why?
Thick, black smoke poured through the broken glass. It moved like an animal, light flickered at its edges. The fire was inside the locker room. There was no way out. No escape. Danny was trapped.
Ana writhed free of the hands holding her and, stumbling, ran to the wall.
Her fingers clawed at the brickwork, at the one thing separating her from her brother, trying to climb up, to break through, anything.
She tried. With every part of her. With everything she had.
She tried. Her fingers bled, seizing in pain, her burned skin shredded on the wall.
“Danny… Danny…”
The hands were back, gloved now, firm. A voice was talking to her.
“It’s okay, kid. Come with me. I’ve got you.”
“My brother…”
“There’s nothing we can do. We need to go. We need to get you out of here.”
She tried to pull away, but her legs gave out and she fell. The ground was cold. Wet earth mixed with broken shards of glass. An empty paint can lay on its side, feet from her, dried green paint spilled across dead leaves.
Leaves, broken glass, a can of green paint.
The voice was talking, the gloves were on her arm, her face. Questions, words. But there was darkness at the edges, closing in over her head. Burying her. Everything was losing focus as she stayed like that. Unmoving.
Leaves, broken glass, a can of green paint.
She should have died then. She wished she had died then. Every day since, she wished that everything had just stopped, ended—that she had closed her eyes and let the darkness take her too, swallow her whole.
Leaves, broken glass, a can of green paint.
At some point the strong arms must have lifted her up, must have carried her away from the wall, away from Danny. For the last time.
But it wasn’t over. It would never be over now.
With a certainty that was forged in that moment of pure, bitter grief, she knew one thing.
For as long as she lived, as long as she breathed, she would never forgive herself for what she’d done.
She had sent her brother to his death. He had trusted her, and he had died because of her.
There would be no absolution, no respite, no hope. Not for her. Her guilt was damning.
She had killed her brother.
There would be no redemption.