Chapter 2 - The Severed Line
"Command, this is Farrut! Mayday, mayday, mayday!" Mark roared into his radio, dragging Clara’s limp body beneath the temporary alcove of a load-bearing column. "Engine 4, we have a structural collapse on floor eight! Primary stairwell compromised! I have an unresponsive pregnant civilian!"
Static hissed through the speaker. Then came the distorted voice of Captain Miller over the radio: "Farrut... exit... roof... fire spreading to the south stairwell... do not... copy?"
The radio went dead with a screech of thermal feedback. Mark slung the dead unit aside. His lungs burned, even through the filter mask he quickly clamped onto Clara’s face. He checked her carotid pulse; it was fast, thready, and dangerously erratic. She was in shock, perhaps internal bleeding, or premature labor triggered by smoke inhalation and blunt trauma.
May you like
He hoisted her onto his shoulder, his back screaming under the combined weight of his air tank and her frail body. Every corridor looked identical in the churning darkness, painted in shifting hues of orange fire and black soot. The hallway floor sloped downward, weakened by structural damage.
As Mark reached the fire exit leading to the auxiliary service stairs, he threw his shoulder into the heavy push-bar. The metal was scalding hot, blistering through his gloves. He forced it open an inch, only to see the entire flight of iron stairs plunging into a vertical abyss of raw flame.
