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I turned immediately.

Patty caught my shoulder. “You have to wait.”

“There are more.”

“You need something over your face,” she insisted.

She tore off the damp cloth and shoved it toward me. I pressed it over my mouth and went back inside.

The second person was Grandpa Alfonse. He had collapsed near a chair, one hand still gripping the armrest. Even unconscious, he looked offended by the inconvenience.

“Grandpa,” I said, kneeling beside him. “I’m going to move you.”

He didn’t respond.

I dragged him toward the door. He weighed more than Hilary. My arms were shaking before I reached the hallway. There was no way I could get him to the front door like that. I grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, laid it flat on the ground, and shifted him onto it. He was still heavy, but the blanket made it easier to pull him through the house.

The strength didn’t come from nowhere. Weeks of walking. Running. Short intervals I hated. Meals I remembered to eat because Hudson asked. Every change that once felt insignificant now kept Grandpa Alfonse moving across the floor.

When I reached the porch, two men pulled him away from the smoke.

I turned back. A hand closed around my ankle. I screamed. Jason lay beside the wall, barely conscious.

His fingers loosened immediately.

I crouched beside him. “Can you hear me?”

His eyelids moved. “Hudson,” he whispered.

“I’ll find him.”

I got both hands beneath Jason’s shoulders. Dragging him nearly broke me. I made it halfway across the room before my grip failed. His shoulders struck the floor.

“Shit! I’m sorry.”

He didn’t react. I grabbed his shirt near the collar and pulled again. The fabric stretched beneath my hands. My lungs burned from the smoke and effort. At the doorway, several people reached for him. I handed him over and leaned briefly against the porch railing.

“Sloane,” Patty said. “Stop for thirty seconds.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re going to collapse.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re bleeding.”

I looked down. A piece of glass had cut my forearm, and I hadn’t even noticed. “That can wait.”

I hurried back inside. The cloud had thinned enough to find the door leading to Hudson’s apartment. Hudson lay on the other side of the door.

Everything in me stopped.

One arm was bent beneath him. His phone was by his hand, the screen dark.

“Hudson.” I dropped to my knees beside him.

His face had gone pale. I pressed two fingers against his neck.