Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Not much, but enough, and I hope like hell it’s Kozlov’s or one of his men.
I pass the girls off to a teacher I know and drop to my knees beside a little boy who’s sitting on the curb with his father. The child has a nasty laceration across his forehead and a dazed, unfocused look.
“What’s your name, buddy?”
“Eli.”
“Okay, Eli. I’m Weston. Stay with me.”
I move automatically, checking his pupils, airway, and bleeding as I ask questions. Shifting into EMT mode gives my head something to do besides picture Elena and T.J. in this mess.
I get Eli stabilized, then move to a mother with smoke inhalation, and a woman with a broken ankle. I start building a triage line farther out near the edge of the lot, where the smoke is blowing past instead of over us. Through everything, my eyes keep going back to the school.
When I finally spot Elena, her face streaked with soot, relief hits me so hard my knees nearly go weak.
But T.J. isn’t with her.
I race over, heart pounding. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” The terrified edge to her voice hits me hard, straight in the chest. “We heard some first graders might be in the back hall, and I was going—”
I don’t hear the rest. I’m already moving.
The back hall Buck marked on our walkthrough runs past the edge of the gym and down a narrower corridor near the maintenance and custodial rooms.
I hit the side entrance and shove inside. The smoke is thinner here, but the building is hotter. Water is hissing down from the sprinklers in uneven sheets, and somewhere in the distance, metal creaks and glass breaks in a fast cascade.
“T.J.!”
No answer.
I continue further in, and then I hear his voice. “Stay low! Hold onto each other!”
Jesus. I round the corner and see him, soot-streaked, brave as hell, shepherding four tiny kids toward the exit, one of them clinging to his sleeve.
He looks up when he sees me, and the wild flash in his eyes is so painfully Tyler’s, my aching chest nearly splits open.
“The front way’s bad,” he says. “This one goes out behind the dumpster.”
One of the little boys is sobbing so hard he’s hiccupping. Another’s eyes are alarmingly wide.
“You’re all doing a great job,” I tell them. “You’re almost there. Everybody keep holding on.”
T.J. lifts his chin. “I told them to stay low because smoke goes up.”
“You told them right.” I gather the scaredest-looking kid into my arms and keep pace with T.J. to the door, then usher the group outside.
Out in the night air, T.J. barks out a thick cough, and I grip the back of his neck and look him over fast. “You hurt?”
He shakes his head, then sways.
“Gonna get you checked out.” I move the group toward the lot, where a couple of frantic parents rush over and claim their kids. Before the rest of us make it to one of the rescue vehicles, a burst of gunfire pops from the far edge of the school grounds.
Kozlov and his people are still out there.
Buck’s voice comes across the radio, cutting through the chaos. “Movement inside the gym. One of them’s inside.”
My blood turns to ice. This needs to end now.
I steer T.J. toward a cluster of teachers gathering children near the ambulance and catch one of them by the arm. “Keep him here. Do not let him move.”
Then I turn and run back into the school.
CHAPTER 43
CALDER
Heat slams into me when I cut into the gym, which looks like a war zone built out of school supplies.
Project boards lie trampled across the floor, along with all the destroyed projects. There are lost shoes, miscellaneous clothing items, and random splatters of glitter. The bleachers are littered with abandoned coats and bags.
Smoke bands along the ceiling, curling lower every time a door opens and closes. Somewhere beyond the gym, fire crackles in fast, hungry bursts.
Out on the grounds, I’d been able to hold it back, but now my body remembers another fire.
Different structure, different country. Same smell of burning synthetic material beneath gunpowder and heat.
For one brutal second, the gold emergency lights smear in my vision, and I’m back on that road. Metal screaming. Men shouting. The Hummer jerking sideways. The RPG hit turning air into flame faster than thought. My lungs lock.
No. Not now. I clamp down hard and anchor myself to what’s real.
The floor under my boots, basketball hoops above me, children’s posters soaked and sagging.
Buck’s somewhere on my right. Weston’s outside helping people. Elena and T.J. are alive until proven otherwise.
I force my pulse under control and move.
I know what Kozlov’s doing. His brother used the same logic. Set the obvious threat where everyone expects it, put pressure where the response has to split, and drive people into motion. Close in after chaos has stripped away order and distance.