James Grippando: Leapholes

Ryan glanced back toward the main hallway. The smoke was thicker than ever.

"We'll go the other way," said the coach.

"But it could be blocked off," said Ryan. "Then we'll be trapped."

The coach shook his head. "Can't you feel that fresh air blowing toward us? It's coming from straight ahead. I'm no firefighter, but if I want to get out of a burning building, I know enough to head toward the fresh air, not toward the smoke. Come on, everyone. Follow me."

The coach had a firm manner of speaking. He obviously was accustomed to giving out orders,. And Ryan didn't want to waste time arguing. "Okay, lead on."

"What's your name, kid?"

"Ryan." He left off the last name.

"L'new," added Kaylee. "His name's Ryan L'new."

"I'm Coach Jenkins. This here is Mr. Bronson, Ms. Rodriguez, and Mrs. Levine."

The names washed over Ryan, and he seemed to remember them only as Sling Man, Flu Lady, and Head Case, respectively.

The coach said, "You bring up the rear, Ryan. Make sure no one falls behind."

The coach went first, followed by Sling Man and Head Case. Kaylee was next, then the Flu Lady, and finally Ryan. They were walking at a brisk pace, but the coach kept them in single file. He was determined not to let them scatter in a panic. Still, Ryan had the feeling they were headed in the wrong direction.

"Coach, check that out," said Ryan.

The sign on the wall read, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

"That doesn't apply when there's a fire," said the coach. "Just keep going."

The pace quickened. Sling Man and Head Case-the old man and woman-were breathing heavily. Flu Lady was sweating more than any of them, probably from fever. The coach kept them moving, repeatedly shouting words of encouragement like Almost there, or Just a little bit farther, gang! They walked for several minutes, and Ryan had yet to see a single door or window-nothing that even resembled a way out of the building. The walls were painted cinder blocks, solid, like a tunnel. The floor had a slight slope to it, like a downward ramp.

Another sign on the wall read, "RESTRICTED AREA, DO NOT ENTER."

Ryan said, "This doesn't feel like the right way."

"Zip it," said the coach. "Don't you feel that breeze getting stronger against your face? The wind doesn't blow like that in a normal hallway. There's obviously an open door or window just ahead of us. It's pulling in fresh air. We can get out this way."

"But I don't think-"

Ryan was in mid-sentence when the ceiling behind them came crashing to the floor. The tangle of metal, wood, and wires landed with a thundering crash. Smoke was pouring through the gaping hole. Then came a burst of heat and flames from the floor above them.

"Run for it!" shouted Kaylee.

Behind them the hallway was choked with smoke and debris. Scorching hot flames were the only source of light. They had to move forward, and the coach led the charge. The breeze in their faces strengthened, which kept the smoke from catching up with them. Ryan hoped the coach was right. Just ahead, there had to be a window or an opening to the outdoors that would account for the flow of fresh air. But Ryan could see only the end of the hallway-a solid brick wall.

"An elevator!" said Kaylee. The door was wide open, and she was about to jump inside.

"Don't get on it!" Ryan cried, but he was almost too late. At the last moment, the coach grabbed her and pulled her back to safety.

"You don't ride the elevators in a fire," the coach said sternly. "Especially when the elevator is missing."

Kaylee stepped to the edge and peered into the opening. Although the door was open, no elevator car was waiting. She was staring down a dark, open shaft. 'Tikes," she said. "It must be at least ten stories to the bottom."

"You mean it goes down?" said Sling Man. "How can that be down? We're on the first floor."

"It must be an underground facility," said Coach.

"With its own ventilation system," said Ryan. "That's where our breeze is coming from. Fresh air is being sucked up the elevator shaft, out this open door, and down the hallway."

"That means there's no open window at the end of this hallway," said Head Case.

"No door to the outside," said Flu Lady.

"No way out," said Kaylee.

Another section of the ceiling collapsed behind them. Flames roared into the hallway from above. The sprinklers should have activated, but ruptured water pipes were dangling from a huge hole in the ceiling. Water spilled uselessly to the floor, not a drop of it reaching the sprinkler heads. The raging fire continued to spread, and it was creating more smoke than the breeze from the elevator shaft could disperse. Ryan's eyes were watering.

"Everybody get down!" said Ryan. He remembered from his fire drills that smoke rises, so it was safest on the floor. They all hit the deck.

"We have to get out of here!" said Kaylee.

"There must be a stairwell" said Ryan. "There are always emergency stairs near an elevator."

"And they're right over here!" shouted Coach. He ran to the door, but the handle wouldn't turn. "What kind of place locks the emergency stairwell?"

"This kind of place," said Ryan as he pointed to another sign on the wall. Though barely visible in the smoke, it read:

The coach's expression soured. "All that restricted area nonsense goes out the window when there's a fire. Out of my way." He backed up, then ran toward the door at full speed, putting his shoulder into it. On impact, he cried out in pain, but the door didn't budge.

"That's not going to work," said Kaylee.

The coach grimaced. "No kidding, Einstein."

"I have an idea," said Ryan. "All I need is a rope."

"I got an idea, too," said Coach. "All I need is a fire truck."

"I can find a rope," said Kaylee. She went to Head Case- the old woman who had that fifteen-foot streamer of extra bandage trailing behind her. "You don't need that, do you?"

"No. They were bandaging my head when the alarm went off. I was still attached to the roll when I ran out of the ER."

"Good." Kaylee tore off the extra bandage, then ripped it into thirds, long ways, from end to end. She was left with three skinny bandage strips, and she started braiding them together. "Ryan, you start at the other end, and do exactly what I'm doing."

Quickly, they twisted the three lengths together until they had a rope. Kaylee knotted both ends, and Ryan gave it a tug. It was much stronger than a single bandage strip. "This should work," he said. "Now, Coach, you're going to take this rope and lower me down the elevator shaft to the floor below us. Hopefully, the door to the stairwell will be unlocked down there. If it is, I'll run up and unlock this one from the other side."

"That's way too dangerous," said Kaylee.

"Do you have a better idea?" said Coach.

The old lady coughed from the thickening smoke. "Whatever you're going to do, make it quick!"

Kaylee said, "Why can't someone else go?"

"I weigh less than anyone here," said Ryan. "I should be the one who goes."

The others were like a chorus: That's right. Yes, yes. Definitely, Ryan should go.

Kaylee seemed a bit put off by their lack of concern for Ryan's safety, but his mind was made up. "It's just one floor," he said. "It's not like I'm going bungee jumping."

Ryan felt his way through the smoke to the open elevator door and lowered the makeshift rope down the shaft. It was just long enough to reach to the floor below. The coach tied one end around his wrist and braced himself against the wall for leverage. Ryan took the other end in both hands.

"Ready?" asked the coach.

"Ready," said Ryan.

Feet first, Ryan slid past the half-opened elevator door. It was breezy inside the shaft, and darker than he'd expected. Dangling at the end of his rope, swaying side to side, he finally grabbed a cable to steady himself. But he could find nothing to stand on. He was hanging in midair, the rope in one hand, the greasy elevator cable in the other.