Vanished (23 page)

I’ve just regained my balance and I’m trying to limp over to Zayn when another explosion, this time somewhere else in the building almost knocks me over.  I steady myself on the wall and the roaring sound to my right grows louder. Then I know it’s above me and I look up. Bright gold metal is blocking out the sun from the hole in the ceiling. “Run,” Zayn yells and I turn and vault around the corner toward the stairs afraid to turn around and see what’s happening behind me.

Hitting the corner, I dive into the next hallway, this one relatively untouched and quiet compared to the chaos behind me.  Zayn!

All of the sudden a door down the hall explodes inward, the floor starts to shake underneath me and the ceiling starts to crack apart. Golden drops of liquid heat start to seep down all around me. 

Running again, I make it to the stairs and climb up them, pulling myself along the railing until I reach the second landing and stop to catch my breath.  Where am I going?
Just keep moving
, a voice answers in my head,
away from the fire.

Somehow I make it up the second flight of stairs.  It’s smoky up here but this part of the building remains intact. 

              Until another explosion goes off to my left and a lavafall starts to gush down inside the hallway.  I dash across the hall and open the nearest classroom door, throwing myself inside and kicking it shut behind me.               

The glass in the windows is broken in here and smoke is pouring through. Warm wind gusts toward me and takes my breath away.  I crawl across the floor, ducking as a bulky text-book goes flying through the air and almost hits me in the head.  The wind gets hotter and prickles of heat followed by pain start crawling up my skin. There’s so much dust and debris I have to squint to keep it out of my eyes. 

Through burning, blurry vision I see a closet about ten feet away on my left.  Turning my back to the windows and the searing white heat, I crawl across the floor to the closet and shut myself inside.  I gulp down the moldy air inside where the smoke hasn’t reached yet. 

I’m so tired and it’s so much cooler in here that I have to resist the urge to lay down and rest. 
You can’t stay here,
the voice urges insistently inside my head. 

The shelving falls on top of me threatening to trap me in, but I go limp slithering through the space beneath it and kick the closet door with both feet feeling it give way and fly open. 

I use the trim around the door to pull myself up and I’m almost swept out by the wind, into thin air because where the class-room was a minute ago there is a gaping hole.  The entire exterior wall is missing and three shiny golden disks churn the wind into a maelstrom above my head. I almost shut myself back inside the closet but the voice screams
Go now
.

Then something odd happens.

A compartment opens on the side of the nearest disk and purple twinkling waves of light surge forward in waves enveloping the other two saucers.  The saucers start to wobble as the purple twinkling light clouds around them.  The ship the purple light is coming from suddenly sucks the light back in and the two ships flip back vertical again then dart off several blocks away where they recommence their destruction of the neighborhood.

Now
, I hear the voice say and I drop down on all fours and inch my way along the jagged two feet of floor left around the interior wall of the room. I stay as close to the wall as I can for fear of falling into the chasm in the floor. 

The ship stays in my peripheral vision, looming overhead, the compartment that the purple stuff came out of retracts and the surface becomes smooth, shimmering metallic gold again. I keep expecting it to turn on me next but it just sits, totally silent and dormant, though I know it must be spinning because of the hurricane like winds threatening to tear me from the building.

White flames lick up, in my path, from the fissure, and I momentarily forget the ship.  My right hand grazes against something, a dry-erase board. I grab it, surprised to feel the plastic is soft and starting to melt. Shoving the board to my left I try to use it like a shield from the flames reaching up on my left.

For a moment I think its working. Then the pain hits and I scream. Tendrils of white-hot agony lick my face, my hair, my neck and arms. 

Keep moving
, the voice says from somewhere in my mind. I have to get into the hallway.  The dry-erase board is melting to my palms but it’s also blocking me from most of the white-fire, so I squeeze it tighter, crying out from the shocking, pounding pain searing the flesh of my palm.

If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to die. 

The thought drives me up onto my feet.  Abandoning my shield, I launch myself into the open doorway and out into the hall, scooting sideways behind the protection of the thick concrete wall.

It’s cooler in the hallway, and the wind isn’t as bad, but it’s also filled with thick black smoke.  I try to stand up but a shooting pain bursts through my ankle and I remember the glass in my heel.  I crouch down to see if I can pull it out, wincing as my crisp skin bends with the motion.  I touch the glass and the pain is so intense I think I might throw up. 

With the glass stuck in my heel, I can’t really walk.  I have to get down on all fours and scoot to the right, careful not to shift my heel wrong.  Every time my palms contact the ground a torturous spasm of pain shoots up my arms.

Where am I going? Where can I go?
The bunker…sanctuary. I angle toward the stairs about fifty yards away.

Somehow I manage to make it about halfway to the stairs at a slow and agonizing crawl. 

Only down on the floor, where I am, is it possible to see more than a foot in front of me, through the viscous smoke.  Needing a break, I rest my back against the concrete wall.

Just a little rest
, I tell myself.

I know I shouldn’t sleep but the minute I close my eyes the world tilts and the throbbing, burning ache torturing my nerve endings, starts to fade. 

Logan.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Logan

“You just left her?” I yell slamming my fist into nearest wall.

                      “There were explosions going off, we all got separated. I found Zayn and we searched for Trin but we couldn’t find her.  She must have made it to the second floor.” Collin pleads. He’s covered heat to foot in dust so thick I can’t even tell his hair is red.  There’s a gash stretching from his left temple down to his ear.  He’s breathing hard and steadying himself against the wall. 

              I grit my teeth, my vision bathed in red. “It’s a war zone up there. Half the fucking school is gone,” I counter, pointing up.  “And you two just left her?”

              Collin reaches out and grabs my shoulder, “We can fight about this or we can go get her man, it’s your call.”

              The rage threatens to take me again, writhing and coiling just underneath the surface but what Judge did to Trin has taught me about keeping my temper in check so I force myself to draw in a ragged breath. 

                      Zayn, blood pouring out of his sleeve from the piece of glass wedged in his arm, hasn’t said a word. Instead he’s holding his arm and glaring coldly at me. I have to look away because in his eyes I see who is
really
to blame. I see my own reflection.  

         
I don't have time for this
, I think, and without another word, temporarily swallowing the self-loathing that threatens to gag me, I turn and hurry back through the stone room leading to the narrow stairwell up to the broom closet.

         “Stay,” I tell them when I hear footsteps following me.
No one else is risking their lives because of me.

          The stairwell is pitch black and smoky.  Switching on my flashlight, I take the stairs two at a time pausing only once - halfway up - to catch my breath. 

          Stepping through the door into the hallway on the first floor I call out her name and shine the flashlight down the hall revealing nothing but thick, black smoke.

              I run past several class-rooms, avoiding the chunks of wall and pools of fire, and make it to the stairs leading up the second floor.  A light flashes outside the window to my left but I ignore it and soon it’s gone as I reach the second floor and the window is no longer visible. 

              Through the thick smoke my flashlight beam illuminates a person slumped on the floor about twenty five yards away.  She’s curled into a fetal position, her blistered arms wrapped around her knees, and her black hair pooling out around her head like a halo of starry, liquid night. She has burns everywhere.  Her face is the worst, her left eye is swollen shut and the skin from her scalp to her neck is a trail of blisters.

              “No,” I groan and drop down at her side.  My stomach rolls as I wedge myself under her and pull her limp body into my arms. Her eyes flutter open and she winces from my touch.

Immediately I take my hands off her and hold them up in midair because I don’t know where to touch her without hurting her.  “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out of here.” I tell her.

Her cracked, blistered lips move but I can’t make out the words, “What is it?” I ask leaning down over her.

“Zayn. Collin.” She whispers in my ear.

“Their safe,” I tell her, carefully trying to avoid touching the areas on her skin with the most burns; her face, arms, cheeks and palms, any part of her that wasn’t covered by clothes and the closthing barely protected her as I see blisters under the burnt holes in her jeans.  A jagged six-inch piece of glass is wedged deep in her ankle.

Gagging and swallowing back bile, I force myself to stop examining her and pick her up.  She groans when I do. “I know, I know,” I say softly, “I’m sorry, but you have to stay alive, Trin.”

We make it down the first flight of stairs but I have to stop at the landing because every step I take makes her cringe in pain, though she never makes a sound.

I lay her gently on the ground and kneel over her, the building burning around us.  A tear rolls down her cheek before her eyes roll up in her head and she passes out.

I hear foot-steps pounding down the hall on the first floor. Turning to look, I see Zayn’s dark head, then Collin’s red hair pop up beneath the stairwell. “Logan?” Zayn yells, cupping his mouth. 

“Up here,” I choke out.

He takes the stares two at a time and collapses down on one knee beside her. He reaches out like he’s going to try and feel her pulse, but gasps when he’s sees the burns and pulls his hand back, clutching at his chest.

I’m vaguely aware of Collin standing over us then Zayn looks up into my eyes and something in his glassy eyes catches me off guard.
How did I miss it before?
I tell myself it’s not possible but I know it’s a lie the minute I see the way his face pinches in pain and he has to look away, covering his face with his hands.  He
loves
her.  Zayn is in love with Trin.
My
Trin. “My God, Logan,” he spits out, “is she...” he looks back at me and his eyes are full of tears. I can’t blame him. He’s my best-friend and I love him and Trin is the bravest, most compassionate, intelligent, honest person I’ve ever met
.
It’s hard not to love her.   

“No...She’s alive but…”

“She needs medical attention.” He screams, his face twisted in helpless frustration.

“The medical level…” I start to say but my words are drowned out by a loud booming sound and the stairwell shudders.

“The place is coming down around us,” Collin yells, grabbing onto the railing to steady himself. “If we don’t get down into the bunker now we’re going to be crushed.” 

Zayn starts to slip his hands under Trin’s shoulders. “I’ve got her,” I say grabbing the railing and pulling myself to my feet.

“Man, you’ve been carrying her all the way down, Logan, let me help.”

“Get back.” I urge him through gritted teeth. 

He looks up, startled at my tone and grabs the railing behind him. For a fraction of a second I see that cold, iciness return to his eyes and get the feeling he’s restraining himself from punching me. He releases the railing, “All right, let’s just go then. Now Logan.”

Tenderly, I scoop her into my arms and press her little body against mine, grateful for her unconsciousness, and follow them down the stairs, around the corner and into the broom closet putting all my concentration into reducing the amount of movement carried over to her, afraid the friction will rip her scalded skin to shreds.

We reach the stairs and I remember how narrow they are, “Collin get in front of us with the flashlight.” I step out of the way and his green eyes meet mine for one brief second as he passes me and descends into the hole, “Now you,” I tell Zayn, “Take her calves and be careful she has glass in her ankle.”