It didn’t have to be Ana.
Slowly, disjointedly, he forced himself to walk towards the line; his movements felt clumsy, as though his limbs weren’t connected right. As he got closer, he could make out the small, dark mass huddled in the dirt, arms zip-tied to the rope that had dragged her across the line.
He almost stumbled and fell. He heard a low wail from somewhere behind him, desperate footsteps running for the line. There was no breath. Nothing left. Just a hollow sensation, tinged with the smallest shameful flash of relief.
A gust of wind pulled at the body.
A lock of short, black hair caught the wind.
Raya was dead.
30
Alex
55:15
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:
