They burst through the north exit into cold air and fog.
Gabe spun back, scanning through the smoke and chaos.
Where was Cara?
She'd been right beside him, running for the exit.
But somewhere between the collapsing second floor and the door, he'd lost her in the dust and darkness.
His voice came out raw and desperate. "Cara!"
The building groaned with the sound of dying metal, of something giving up.
Wade grabbed his arm. "Gabe, we have to?—"
He pulled free and started back toward the door. "She's in there."
Wade blocked him physically. "You can't. The whole structure's compromised."
Cara. Please. Please be alive.
Another explosion cut through his desperation.
The entire west wing collapsed in a roar of concrete and twisted steel.
Gabe watched it fall, watched the dust billow toward them. The fire door where they'd entered had vanished under thousands of pounds of debris.
39
The explosion threwCara against the wall.
Heat rolled over her in a wave, searing her exposed skin. Her ears rang so loud she could barely hear Gabe calling her name from somewhere she couldn't see.
Darkness swallowed everything except the faint glow of emergency lights cutting through thickening smoke. She coughed, tasting concrete gritty between her teeth. The air smelled wrong—burning insulation, melted plastic, something chemical and acrid that made her eyes water.
"Cara!" Gabe's voice sounded distant, muffled by the ringing.
She tried to move toward him, but the stairwell had split apart. A gap at least three feet wide separated them, with rubble piled high between. The floor on her side had buckled downward while his section remained higher, creating an impossible divide.
She shouted back through another cough. "I'm okay! Go. Get David."
Wade's voice joined Gabe's, both of them calling for her, but another tremor ran through the structure and drownedout their words. The station groaned like a dying animal, metal shrieking as support beams twisted. The floor vibrated under her feet with each secondary blast deeper below.
This whole place was coming down.
She wiped her eyes and blinked hard, trying to focus through the haze.
Emergency lights flickered, but during the flashes, she caught them: Hank Brewer hauling David down the interior stairwell toward the back of the station. Both men looked like gray ghosts, covered head to toe in concrete powder. Brewer spat and coughed violently, never loosening his grip on David's arm. Blood ran down David's face from a cut at his hairline, dripping into his eye. He blinked it away, stumbling as Brewer yanked him forward.
Their footsteps left disturbed trails in the gray coating the steps.
Cara looked back toward where Gabe's voice had come from. He and Wade were trying to reach her, but debris kept falling between them. Brewer disappeared with David into the haze.
She opened her mouth to shout, but another blast shook the station. The landing above her split wider, and chunks of concrete rained down.
By the time she could breathe again, Brewer and David were almost out of sight.
The smart play was to call for help. She should wait for Gabe and Wade, or the coming first responders. But Brewer was getting away with David, and backup wouldn't arrive in time.
