Page 59 of The Storm

Nick lets out a shaky laugh that he doesn’t quite finish. It’s pure relief.

The sounds all around us pick up. There are multiple voices now, mixing and overlapping. There’s a scrape of metal against metal above us.

Another crack.

Then, a thin line of light.

The door isn’t pulled open. It’s more like the top half of it is peeled open as you do with a can of tuna.

Cold air rushes in, along with a cloud of dust. Cold air.Realair.

It hits my face. I breathe in too fast and too much at once. It makes me cough.

Hands appear in the gap, dark shapes against the light.

“Can you move?” a voice asks.

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Yes, we can move.”

Light floods in fully now. I squint against it, eyes watering.

“Hold on,” a voice says. “We’re going to get you out.”

Nick’s fingers tighten around my arm again for a second, almost as if he’s holding me still.

“Go on,” he says quietly.

I look at him for what feels like the first time. His dust-streaked face and tired eyes, hair a mess, scratches on his arm.

He looks more alive than I’ve ever seen anybody look. My heart gives a few quick thuds in succession, and I swallow. He looks so real.

“Blue?” he says.

I nod.

And move.

Hands reach in, grabbing my arms, helping pull me up and out. There’s so much open space and so much rubbleeverywhere. It’s almost dark beyond where all the lights are aimed at the fridge, the sun having set already. I try to figure out what day it might be and how long we were in there, but my brain doesn’t want to cooperate right this second.

“Easy,” a man says as he starts to guide me over the debris of what used to be the restaurant building.

“Wait!” I whirl around. “Nick.”

My heart is beating so wildly it feels like I’m going to be sick.

“I’ve got him,” another voice says.

I watch as they help him out. Why is it taking them so long? Where is he?

Then he’s there too, stumbling forward, chest heaving as he takes a deep breath, his eyes searching, searching… They land on me. He exhales, shoulders relaxing.

We just stare at each other, and neither of us says anything.

We made it.

We’re actually out.

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