Chapter 71.
“Wyatt!” she yells. “Wyatt!”
Alek points toward the only apartment building still standing on the corner—barely standing—its windows vomiting black smoke, flames licking up the walls like they’re climbing for oxygen.
“He went in there,” Hannah says.
Jack grabs her shoulder. “We don’t know that.”
“We do,” Hannah snaps, and that’s new. Hannah Wagner doesn’t snap. She takes a deep breath, fighting for composure. She is usually the calmest of them all.
“He could be dead,” Hannah says.
“We don’t even know if he’s in there,” Jack says.
Alek steps forward, taking over. “Spread out. Now. Find him. Before the bombers come back.”
Then a voice cuts through the crackle of fire.
“UP HERE!”
Wyatt is on a third-floor terrace, framed by flame, arms stretched out for balance. For one stupid second he looks like a statue. Then they see what he’s doing. He’s not showing off or fooling around. He’s shielding someone behind him.
“There’s a kid inside,” Wyatt yells down to them. “Don’t try to come in. This whole place is about to go!”
He’s right. Black smoke is pouring through the open door behind him, flames spitting out of the windows on both sides of the terrace. Even on the ground, Alek and Hannah feel like they are standing in front of a blast furnace.
Alek takes one step toward the door and Jack yanks her back hard. Because the building makes a sound. A deep, groaning, structural sound. The kind that comes right before collapse.
When the smoke clears for a moment, Wyatt has disappeared again.