A handful of people run toward me, coughing, faces streaked with soot. If they’re making it out, there’s got to be another opening.
“Get to the front and across the street!” I yell. “Medical personnel are on the way!”
I don’t stop to check them over. Compared to the ones still inside, they’re already better off.
Turning the next corner sharply, I spot a glass door, shattered. A family is crawling through it, pulling each other to safety.
I barrel past them and charge inside.
To my left is a stairway, a thin layer of smoke rolling down from it. Before heading up, I sweep through the ground floor. The first door opens easily, and when I step into the main hall, there’s no one in my direct line of sight.
“Fire Department! Call out!” I shout, moving toward the front of the building.
As the lobby comes into view, another hallway branching off to my right—completely swallowed in smoke. I can’t see more than three doors down.
“If you can hear me, shout or make noise!” I yell again, my voice bouncing against the walls.
That hall is a no-go. I turn and charge down the opposite side, calling out room by room. Nothing. Absolute silence, save for the sharp pops of fire crackling somewhere behind me.
I take the stairs up to the second floor. No one passes me on the way, which gives me a flicker of hope that the hotel’s already cleared, but I can’t afford to assume that.
“Keoni, it’s Corey.” I hear his voice crackle over the walkie. “I’m entering—south exit. Over.”
I tilt my head and click to reply. “Copy. I’m taking the east stairway. Be careful—full visibility on my side, zero on the west. No signs of life on the first floor. Check third and fourth. I’ve got the second. Over.”
“Copy that. Over.”
I pull up my mask and push through the second-floor door. Heat slams into me, and the hallway is blanketed in dark smoke.
“Fire Department! Call out!” I bellow. The heavy material muffles my voice, but I know anyone in the nearest rooms would hear it.
I repeat the call again and again as I creep forward, visibility dropping to almost nothing. By the time I reach the four-way intersection in the center, I can see flames licking through the haze.
There are muffled noises, but most belong to the fire—a low, rushing roar. I’ve always compared it to a distant freight train.
Pushing deeper into the thickening smoke, I shout, “If anyone is here, make some noise!”
Two doors ahead, the fire has already consumed the rooms. Paint blisters on their surfaces, scorched patches spidering outward from the furthest door. Thin, black wisps leak through the cracks and curl out from beneath.
I slam a fist against the wall to my right. “Anyone?!”
I’m seconds away from calling it when I hear the smallest cry.
“Hello?!” I bang again, heart jolting, and suddenly my body catches up to reality—the unbearable heat, the way my lungs fight, the way every instinct screams for me to retreat.
But I can’t. Not yet.
“Help!”
I click down on the walkie. “Search in progress. Victim heard, not located. Over.”
Forcing myself forward, I call out, “Bang on the wall!”
Two seconds later, a faint reply. “Help!”
Of fucking course it’s coming from the room right next to where the fire is raging.
I lower my shoulder and crash through the door. “Fire Department!”
