11. Maggie #3
It moves. Only a few inches, but enough to send hope surging through me.
“Again,” I gasp.
Together, we shove once more. The rack moves farther this time.
I reposition the pipe and push with everything I have left. The shelving finally lifts high enough for Jules to drag himself free. He collapses against me with a strangled cry, his injured ankle twisting awkwardly beneath him.
“We've got to go.” I wrap an arm around his waist and help him to his feet.
Jules tries to put weight on his foot and instantly sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, that's definitely broken.”
Before I can answer, a terrible groan echoes overhead. Both of us freeze. The sound comes again, louder this time.
Jules's eyes widen. “Maggie?—”
I look up just as part of the ceiling gives way.
Everything happens at once. Wood crashes down. Dust and sparks explode through the hallway. Something slams into my shoulder hard enough to throw me sideways, taking Jules down with me.
Pain rips through me when I hit the floor hard enough to drive the air from my lungs. For a few disorienting seconds, the world is nothing but ringing. Then the noise returns in a rush, bringing with it the roar of flames, violent coughing, and the sound of my own uneven breathing.
“Maggie?” Jules calls weakly through the haze.
I force myself upright, every part of me protesting. “I'm here.”
Dust and smoke churn through the hallway, making it nearly impossible to see, but I don't need perfect visibility to understand what happened.
The corridor behind us is gone.
Burning beams, shattered drywall, twisted shelving, and chunks of the collapsed ceiling now fill the space where our exit had stood only moments earlier. Flames crawl hungrily across the debris, throwing violent orange light against the walls.
For the first time since this nightmare began, the enormity of it all sinks in. We’re not rescuing animals anymore. We're trapped.
I stare at the mountain of burning debris where the hallway used to be. Flames creep greedily across shattered wood and broken drywall. Heat rolls toward us in relentless waves, and smoke churns through the narrow corridor, thick enough now that every breath feels like inhaling sand.
Jules coughs. The harsh, wet sound snaps me back into motion. I crawl toward him on shaking hands and knees and grab his arm.
“Can you move?”
“Define move.” He grimaces as he pushes himself upright, immediately hissing in pain. “The ankle's definitely broken, but I can still crawl if I have to.”
“You're not crawling.” I slip an arm around his waist and help him sit up. My shoulder screams in pain from where the ceiling hit me, but I ignore it. “We're getting’ out of here.”
Smoke churns around us, thick and acrid. Every breath burns. I force myself to look away from the collapsed hallway long enough to study our surroundings.
The storage corridor branches in three directions. One now ends in a wall of fire and debris. Another leads toward the old grooming room near the rear employee entrance. The third ends at the supply room.
Hope sparks.
“The grooming room,” I say. “There's an exterior door.”
Jules nods weakly. “Lead the way.”
Together, we struggle to our feet. Jules leans heavily against me as we stagger through the smoke-filled hallway. Progress is painfully slow. Every few steps, he stumbles, and every few steps, I have to tighten my hold to keep both of us upright.
By the time we reach the grooming room, we're both coughing hard enough to shake.
“Please,” I whisper, reaching for the door. “Please work.”
I shove the rear exit open.
For one glorious second, I think we're saved. Then reality crashes down.
A section of the exterior awning has collapsed, along with part of the roof overhang. Debris blocks most of the doorway, leaving only a narrow opening choked with smoke and flames. Heat blasts through the gap hard enough to force me backward.
“No.” I cough violently. “No, no, no.”
Jules braces himself against the wall, breathing hard. “Maggie.”
I turn back toward him.
“We're not making it through that.”
Another loud crack reverberates overhead. Dust rains down from the ceiling.
My heart lurches. “Supply room,” I say immediately. “Come on.”
Jules blinks at me through soot-streaked lashes. “The room full of dog food and industrial-strength disinfectant?”
“The walls are concrete block,” I say, wrapping his arm around my shoulders again. “It's the safest place we've got right now.”
He doesn't argue.
We limp back down the corridor toward the supply room. By now, the smoke is so thick I can barely see more than a foot in front of me. My lungs feel flayed raw. Black spots dance across my vision, and Jules is putting almost all of his weight on me.
At last, we reach the small room at the end of the hall. I pull Jules inside before pushing the door nearly closed behind us.
The room is cramped and cluttered. Bags of dog food, cleaning supplies, and stacked crates crowd every available inch. The shelving unit that trapped Jules still lies toppled across one side of the room, its contents scattered everywhere, but the concrete block walls remain intact.
It isn't safe. It's simply the best chance we've got.
I lower Jules carefully onto the floor beside several bags of kibble before sinking beside him. Another coughing fit tears through me, leaving my chest aching.
As I struggle to catch my breath, my hand drifts instinctively toward my stomach.
The baby.
Fear grips me. Smoke inhalation. Heat. Stress. My mind races through every terrible possibility before I force myself to stop. I can't think about that right now. I can't.
“Hey.” His soot-blackened hand finds mine. “Don't do that.”
I look at him. “Do what?”
“Get that look on your face.” He squeezes my fingers weakly. “We're getting’ out of here, honey.”
Lord, I want to believe him.
“We're goin’ to be okay,” I whisper, though I'm no longer sure whether I'm trying to convince him or myself.
Jules leans his head back against a stack of dog food and closes his eyes. “Maggie?”
“Yeah?”
“If we survive this, you're bannin’ me from inventory duty forever.”
I manage a weak laugh before another coughing fit steals it away. “Deal.”
We fall silent after that, our ragged breathing mixing with distant sirens and the relentless roar of the fire consuming the shelter I've spent years building.
I squeeze Jules's hand tighter and stare at the nearly closed door, praying somebody finds us before the fire does.