Page 99

“Sam—”

“Now!”

I look toward the smoke-filled hallway, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.

Then I nod. “Fine.”

Sam stays close as we make our way toward the entrance, smoke stinging my eyes and burning my lungs. The second we stumble outside, volunteers rush forward to take the carriers.

Before he can look back, I slip into the crowd of volunteers and circle the side of the building, sprinting back through the side entrance. There’s no way in hell I'm leaving Jules in there alone.

“Maggie!” Jules shouts again.

“Where are you?” I shout back between coughs.

“Supply room!” comes the answer, followed by violent coughing.

Terror explodes through me, and I race toward the sound. The storage hallway is partially blocked by fallen shelving and debris. Through the thick smoke, I finally spot him.

Jules lies pinned beneath a toppled metal storage rack.

My heart nearly stops. “Oh my God.”

“Maggie.” He coughs harshly before attempting a weak smile. “Please tell me you're not a hallucination.”

I drop beside him, my knees slamming into the floor. “What happened?”

“The shelf collapsed.” He winces and glances down toward his legs. “My ankle's trapped.”

Blood runs down one side of his forehead, disappearing into the soot coating his face. Fear grips me so hard it steals my breath.

“You hit your head.”

“I noticed,” he says dryly before another coughing fit wracks his body.

I grab the metal shelving unit with both hands and shove. Nothing happens. The rack doesn't move more than an inch.

“I’m getting you out.”

“Maggie, no.” Fear flashes across his face. “You need to leave. Right now.”

I ignore him completely. Smoke churns around us, thick enough to make my eyes stream. Coughing, I brace my feet against the floor and push again, every muscle straining.

Nothing.

“Damn it.” I look around frantically. Boxes, cleaning supplies, shattered shelving. My eyes land on a length of metal pipe lying nearby. I snatch it up and wedge it beneath one corner of the rack.

Jules catches on immediately.

“Leverage,” he rasps.

“Exactly.”

I throw my weight onto the pipe while Jules grabs the edge of the shelving and pushes with both hands. The metal groans.

It moves. Only a few inches, but enough to send hope surging through me.

“Again,” I gasp.