I grab Zeke’s outstretched hand and he yanks me up into the street through the hole. The cold air shocks me after the stuffy, stinking, smoky tunnel. I start coughing, and Bree runs over, flinging her arms around me. But it’s not over yet. Ben and Ryan are still down there, down in that horrible, dark place.

Black, acrid smoke billows out the hole as I race over beside Zeke and stretch my hand down. Jack is shoved into my arms by Ryan. I heave him out and plop him down behind me. He runs over to Penelope and Bree for some much needed pampering.

Ben is next. I help pull him from the hole. He’s completely soot covered, his face streaked with black, looking like a miner emerging from the mines. But as he pops out the hole, the ladder screeches and disintegrates behind him.

“Ryan!” I scream, as twisted bits of metal fall down around him, clattering to the ground.

From the bottom of the hole, Ryan looks up at me, looking lost and terrified.

“Grab my hand!” I scream.

“No!” he shouts back. “I’m heavier than you. I’ll just pull you in.”

I turn to Zeke and Ben. “Hold my legs, I’m going in.”

I don’t give them a chance to protest. I fling myself forward into the hole and they grab me, pinning my legs against the asphalt. I’m hanging into the hole by my waist, stretching forward for Ryan. He’s still a good few feet below me.

“Jump!” I shout.

The smoke is so thick now it’s starting to obscure my view of him. For a second, I lose sight of him. My first fear is that he’s passed out.

“Ryan!” I scream. “RYAN!”

Suddenly, he reappears, making the smoke swirl around him. He’s got a crate. He coughs as he positions it on the ground, covering his face with his sleeve, then clambers onto it. It gives him just enough height to reach my hands. I grip him as hard as I can.

“Pull!” I shout at Zeke and Ben.

Molly comes over to help, and between the three of them, they heave me up with Ryan dangling from my arms. We get him through the hole then flop back against the ground. I take in a huge gasp of air, lying sprawled on my back, gazing up at the black sky.

My first instinct is to laugh. We made it. We’re alive. But when I turn to Ryan, expecting to see his cocky smile, instead I see that his eyes are closed. He’s not moving.

“No, no, no,” I say, dragging myself onto my knees and crawling over to him.

I rest my head on his chest. It’s not rising or falling. He’s not breathing.