Chapter 6 - Smoke in the StairwellThe hallway was full of smoke.
It crawled along the ceiling in thick gray layers, turning the peeling walls into shadows. Somewhere above, children cried. A woman shouted in Spanish. A smoke alarm screamed so loudly Nathaniel could feel it in his teeth.
Grace pulled her sweater over her mouth and pushed toward the stairs.
Nathaniel caught her arm.
“Where are you going?”
“Third floor. Nora and Paige.”
“The fire department—”
“Is not here yet.”
She yanked free and ran up.
Nathaniel followed.
Heat thickened on the second floor. It smelled like electrical wiring and wet plaster. Doors stood open, tenants rushing out with bags, blankets, medicine bottles, whatever life they could carry in two hands.
On the landing, Grace stopped and looked back.
“Why are you following me?”
“Because you’re going into a burning building.”
“I know where the children are.”
“And I have a phone, a flashlight, and enough body weight to break doors.”
For one impossible second, she almost smiled.
Then a child screamed upstairs.
They ran.
On the third floor, smoke pressed low enough that Nathaniel had to crouch. Grace pounded on a door near the end of the hall.
“Nora! Paige!”
No answer.
Grace shoved the door.
Locked.
Nathaniel moved her aside and kicked near the handle.
Once.
Twice.
The frame cracked on the third kick.
Inside, the apartment was dark. Smoke seeped from a vent near the ceiling. Grace dropped to her knees.
“Nora!”
A weak voice answered from the bedroom.
“Miss Grace?”
Grace crawled toward it.
Nathaniel followed, one arm over his nose. His lungs burned. His eyes watered so badly the room blurred.
They found Nora Bell wedged beside a bed, clutching five-year-old Paige Moore against her chest. Paige’s face was streaked with soot. Nora had tied a damp shirt around the little girl’s mouth.
“I couldn’t open the window,” Nora coughed.
Grace touched her face. “You did good. You did so good.”
Nathaniel lifted Paige. She was terrifyingly light.
Grace helped Nora stand, but the girl swayed.
The ceiling groaned.
Nathaniel looked up.
A long crack split the plaster above them.
“We have to move,” he said.
They reached the hallway just as something crashed below. Flames flickered at the far end near the back stairwell.
Grace froze.
“Back stairs are blocked.”
Nathaniel shone his phone light toward the front stairwell.
Smoke.
Too much.
Nora coughed violently.
Nathaniel pulled off his coat and wrapped it around Paige.
Grace stared at him.
“What?”
“That coat cost nowhere near seven thousand dollars,” he said.
Despite everything, Nora gave a tiny laugh.
Then the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the hallway.
Below them, someone shouted, “Exit’s locked! The side exit is chained!”
Grace went rigid.
“What did they say?”
Nathaniel’s blood turned cold.
He remembered Prescott’s urgency. The inspection. The photographer. The perfectly timed notices.
The fire.
The chained exit.
“This wasn’t an accident,” Grace whispered.
Nathaniel took Paige more securely against his chest. “We can discuss that when we’re not dying.”
They moved toward the front stairwell.
Halfway down, Nora collapsed.
Grace tried to lift her.
Nathaniel handed Paige to Grace, then picked Nora up. The girl’s head fell against his shoulder.
By the second floor, flames had reached the electrical panel. Sparks burst across the hallway like violent fireflies.
A beam fell behind them.
Grace screamed as heat flashed across her back.
Nathaniel grabbed her and pulled her down.
“You’re burned.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m busy.”
They stumbled through the smoke toward the main entrance. Firefighters were forcing their way inside from below. Nathaniel heard boots, radios, orders.
Then the staircase shook.
A chunk of ceiling collapsed between them and the exit.
Grace was on one side with Paige.
Nathaniel was on the other with Nora.
For one heartbeat, they stared at each other through smoke and falling dust.
“Nathaniel!” Grace shouted.
He looked at the rubble. Too much to cross with Nora in his arms.
A firefighter’s light flashed behind Grace.
“Take Paige!” Nathaniel yelled.
“No!”
“Go!”
Grace’s face twisted with fear and fury.
Then a firefighter grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Nathaniel turned, searching through the smoke. There had to be another way.
Nora stirred against him. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said, coughing. “None of this is yours.”
The heat intensified.
His phone battery died.
Darkness returned.
Then he saw it.
At the end of the hallway, half-hidden behind a torn plastic sheet, was a maintenance door.
He ran toward it.
Locked.
Nathaniel lowered Nora carefully, stepped back, and threw his shoulder into the door.
Pain exploded through his arm.
Again.
The door did not move.
Again.
Wood splintered.
Again.
The door burst open.
Cold air hit his face.
A rusted fire escape clung to the outside wall.
Nathaniel lifted Nora and climbed out.
Below, flashing red lights filled Calder Street.
People screamed his name.
Or maybe Grace did.
The metal stairs shook beneath him as he descended. One railing broke loose under his hand, but he kept moving.
By the time he reached the bottom, firefighters took Nora from his arms.
Nathaniel turned.
Grace stood across the courtyard holding Paige, ash in her hair, tears running clean lines through soot on her cheeks.
Their eyes met.
Then Lucy screamed.
Nathaniel followed her gaze.
May you like
Prescott Vale stood near the black sedan, speaking rapidly into his phone.
Behind him, half-hidden in his hand, was a small silver lighter.
