Kicking the door open, Everest turns sharply and that’s when I see it. The licking flames reaching out from the heart of thefire. The hallway is ablaze, the heat slamming into my face and shoulders. Everest does his best to get us away from it but he’s slow, his body weight leaning against the wall for support. There’s no use him trying to play the hero and neither of us getting out of here.
“Put me down, Everest!” I scream. He refuses, the grip across the back of my thighs turning bruising. I kick and scream and punch his back, but he holds tight, yelling hoarsely every time I try to fight free.
“Save your energy for when I really get my hands on you!” he snarls. There’s an additional round of cursing, but I can’t quite catch what he’s currently calling me. I stop trying to listen, more worried about the way he’s slumping down the wall, his entire body trembling beneath me. I thrash until his body gives out, both of us slamming to the concrete floor.
The fire creeps closer, reaching for us, slowly killing us with its smoky claws. I buck, attempting to army crawl towards the door that holds our freedom. Manifesting the cool artificial turf of the pitch beneath my body until I can move no more. There’s no air in my body and no fight left in my limbs. All that’s left is to clutch my phone in one hand and reach out to fist Everest’s shirt in the other. If I’m going down, I’m taking him straight into hell with me.
Chapter Six
There’s a distant beeping somewhere. It lures me toward consciousness like a slow pull through water.
From beneath an oxygen mask, my tongue is thick, stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my throat burns. I shift slightly to feel the tug of something at the crook of my arm. I blink against the fluorescent lights overhead, too bright and too sterile, squinting until my eyes adjust to the dull blur of the inside of an ambulance. Panic stabs me square in the chest.
I sit up too fast, and my stomach lurches. Breath clouds the mask, sawing with each inhale and exhale. A sharp sting cuts through the side of my head like someone’s driving a needlestraight into my temple. An EMT immediately puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Easy, you’re okay,” he says, but his voice is just another throb against my skull. “You’re dehydrated, with smoke inhalation and a mild concussion. You were lucky someone pulled you out in time.” I shake his hand off, frowning at the cannula pushed into my arm. The tubing is hooked up to an IV bag.
Beyond the open ambulance doors, fire engines are attending to the fire in the stadium. I’m too far away to see the flames being targeted by streams of water from hoses, but the smoke is brutal. Heavy plumes are rising into the sky and polluting the clouds. Only an idiot would willingly run into it, and I’m that idiot.
“Where is my phone?” I shift the mask aside to rasp, ignoring my shiver from beneath the silver blanket wrapped around my shoulders. The medic frowns, glancing behind him.
“We took it from you in case it got damaged. I’ll get it, but?—”
“I need it,” I wheeze, reaching a hand out expectantly and then remember myself. “Please, I just need to let someone know I’m okay.”
He must sense my desperation, because he doesn’t argue. I didn’t even have to tell him I nearly died to retrieve that phone. He moves to the bench beside the stretcher, rummaging through a small plastic bag until he pulls it out and hands it over. I snatch it whilst he realigns the oxygen mask with my nose and mouth, and clutch it like my next breath depends on the screen lighting up. I could sob at the sight of the wallpaper, a motivational quote that Thiago sent over and I put it there as a reminder.
‘I’m with you every step of the way.’
I snort every time I see it, because it’s true. He’s usually stalking me every step of the way. Steadying my hand, I pull open the message app. My chest feels too tight, like it mightsplit open with the pressure building behind my ribs. The notifications are piling up. Seven missed calls, four texts and a thinly veiled threat.
Thi:Hey Megs, how did try-outs go? I have a gif ready for either scenario.
Thi:Meg, I’ve seen reports of a fire. Where are you?
Thi:You’d better answer me or I swear to god, I’ll be on the next bus.
Thi:Megan O’Connor. We’re about to have a serious problem here. Call me.
As I’m glancing over the words, another message comes through, this one from an unknown number.
Anon:Next time you feel like a suicide mission, leave me out of it.
A delirious laugh slips out of me. There’s only one person that could be, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or just trying to goad me. I didn’t ask Everest to follow me into the flames. In fact, I bluntly told him to leave. Speaking of which, I lift the oxygen mask from my face again.
“Excuse me,” I ask the paramedic who’s checking my vitals. “Where’s the guy I was passed out next to?” I know I shouldn’t care, but if he’s texting me, and if he’s lucid enough to be angry, then he obviously doesn’t feel like he’s been run over with a truck as I do.
The medic blinks a few times. “Oh, he was pulled out just before you. No serious injuries. Campus insisted he betransferred to a private clinic uptown. One of the trustees called it in.”
Of course they did. The son of their biggest investor was injured on site. The academy is probably already discussing how they will sweep this under the rug and keep Everest’s parents pacified.
I stare at the ceiling, the lights blurring again. My body is wrecked. My throat feels like ash. But I’m alive enough to push back against the lap belt that the medic tries to strap over my middle. He chews on his inner cheek, seeming bored of my attitude.
“We’re taking you to Hollowbrook General. They’ll want to run some tests?—”
“No.” I twist to face him, voice stronger now. “I’m not going to another hospital.” He purses his lips and we enter into a stalemate worthy of champions. I start debating whether the guy even has eyelids when he sighs.
“You inhaled a lot of smoke. You need proper oxygenation and it’s protocol that we take you for some observations.” He raises a dark brow beneath the peppered hair fanning his forehead. I match his stare with one just as hard, despite being the one on the stretcher.
