Unease slithered down my back the deeper we trekked into the factory. Something wasn’t right.
I was about to stop August when the world went up in flames.
A lowwhooshrolled through the space as flames erupted along the perimeter, crawling up the walls and surging higher. Fire licked along the baseboards and near the boarded windows—multiple points igniting in rapid succession on all sides.
Heat slammed into me a second later.
Adrenaline pumped through me as a distinct, chemical edge cut through the dust and decay. Kerosene.
I cursed. The flames climbed quickly, boxing us in and pushing inward. Smoke followed just as fast, thick and dark, rolling toward the ceiling.
“Move,” I snapped, stepping forward. “We need to find a door.”
The others didn’t hesitate. We spread enough to search efficiently, flashlights cutting through the growing haze as the heat intensified with every passing second.
I scanned the wall ahead, searching for anything—any break, any sign of an exit. There was an entry point onto the main factory floor; we just had to get to it.
It felt like forever before the set of metal double doors came into view. Thankfully, they weren’t boarded over, and I grabbed the handle and yanked. They were locked.
“Fuck!” I roared, sweat beading on my forehead.
The smoke was dropping lower, making each breath sting. My lungs protested as I inhaled, heat pressing in from every direction.
August stepped up beside me, and we hit the door at the same time, slamming our body weight into the metal as hard as we could. Sharp pain shot through my shoulder, but the metal didn’t budge.
We couldn’t give up. We hit it again and again, but with each thrust, my shoulder felt like it might pop out of its socket. August’s gritted teeth told me he felt it too, and he only had one good shoulder to begin with.
“Stop,” I barked at him. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”
August muttered curses under his breath at me, but kept going. I glanced around for Fox or Graham, but they weren’t there.
“They’re searching for something to leverage these doors with,” August spat between shoves, as if he could read my mind.
Visibility dropped more as the smoke and flames crept lower. Every breath burned worse than the last.
Seconds stretched too long.
“Roman!” Fox shouted, carrying a long, flat piece of metal—some kind of shelving support or beam. Graham was close behind him.
He thrust it into my hands when he was close enough, and I studied it for only a moment. It was thin, but strong.
“Thank God,” August muttered, snatching it from me and jamming it between the seam of the doors. He wedged it as deep into the gap as he could. “Help me push,” he demanded.
All of us hit it at once, leveraging the metal, forcing pressure into the latch point. The frame groaned, the metal creaking under the tension.
“Again!”
We shoved harder, and the lock strained. The metal gradually began to bend, and we used all our combined strength to push on the makeshift lever.
It finally gave, the door bursting open. We all tumbled through.
Fresh air hit me hard. I stumbled forward, coughing as my lungs struggled to adjust.
“Close it!” I rasped. We needed to keep that fire contained to that room as long as possible.
We turned immediately, grabbing the doors and forcing them shut as best we could.
It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would buy some time to get Palmer.
