Page 71 of Asystole

I stand frozen, watching in horror as the chopper falls from the sky, landing in a fireball of magnificent light against the darkness of the night.

Without thinking, without asking for permission, or caring about anything at all, I turn and race back inside, adrenaline and fear giving me wings as I fly down thirteen flights of stairs. There is no doubt my speed is faster than the elevator. I’m jumping entire sections, gripping the railing to ensure my landing as my lungs burn.

I won’t breathe until he does.

I push past people in the hallways, not stopping to explain or offer apologies.

Once I’m out the front doors, I turn left and make a mad dash up the street, almost causing an accident when I don’t stop at the crosswalk.

Nothing matters. No one else matters. I have to get to him in time.

Rounding the first block, I turn left again, the fire lighting my path until I turn one more corner, going right this time, and stop dead in my tracks.

The heat is brutal.

Unsurvivable.

Still, I press forward.

People are shouting at me to turn back. It’s a suicide mission.

Another ten feet closer.

My skin is melting, but I can’t be bothered to care when my eyes land on an arm beneath the rubble.

Quickly moving everything I can off the body, I brace myself for what I’m certain awaits me. The flames are licking higher, threatening to trap us in this inferno. I briefly think about the night I helped him with CPR. Scene safety is long gone, and if I don’t pull him from where he lies right this second, I won’t have to worry about chest compressions because we’ll both be dead.

Grabbing his forearm, I pull with every cell in my body, every beat of my overworked heart, and every breath from my burnt lungs. I heave until his limp body slides free of the metal trying to pin him down.

I’m suffocating from the heat as I fall out of the open doorway, dragging his lifeless body with me. He lands on top of me, cushioning his fall.

I grunt as I roll us onto our sides, but the noise sounds foreign.

Bending, I scoop him into my arms.

Everything hurts, but I’ll be damned if I stop now.

I have no idea what else is happening behind me. My tunnel vision is getting worse as my brain fights for oxygen, but I cradle his body closer to mine.

“I’ve got you,” I tell him, even though I know he can’t hear me.

Even though I know he’s gone.

“LOGAN!” My scream wakes me from the nightmare, my neck damp with sweat.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, sitting straight up. My heart is racing a mile a minute as I jump up to look out the window. Much to my relief, the weather from earlier has subsided.

I’m a trembling mess, my hands shaking with the remnants of the adrenaline coursing through my system.

“It was just a dream, you fucking moron. Chill,” I tell myself.

The pep talk does nothing to help me calm down.

Before I can think through what I’m doing, I grab my phone off the nightstand and walk down the short hall before pushing open the door to Logan’s room. He’s still at work. I’ll just lie here for a couple of minutes. Maybe being surrounded by his things will ease the panic clawing at my throat.

Setting an alarm for five a.m.—just in case—I wrap myself in his sheets and close my eyes.

Chapter 27