If we slip and fall, we’ll fall for five or six seconds before we hit the pavement. And when we land, our bodies won’t just break—they’ll explode.

“If we don’t get off this balcony we’re dead!” Raylan shouts back.

I look at the glass doors, barely holding back the raging flames. Even as I watch, the glass begins to crack and warp.

“Oh my god . . . ” I whisper.

I cling onto Raylan’s neck, my legs wrapped around his waist from behind.

“Don’t choke me,” he says.

I try to relax my grip just a little, while still holding on tight.

He swings his leg over the railing, gripping the bedsheet with both hands.

I’m dangling over bare, empty space, holding onto his back.

Raylan starts to lower us down, going hand over hand on the sheet.

The fabric is taut and straining under our combined weight. I can see his arms rigid with strain, and his hands gripping the slippery material. His fingers leave sooty prints on the white sheet. His knuckles are pale and tight.

I can’t watch. I squeeze my eyes shut, holding onto him with all my might. I can feel his shoulders and back trembling with the strain of carrying our weight.

Raylan’s hands slip and we drop two feet before he catches his grip again. I bite back my scream, eyes still tight shut. I can hear the fabric starting to tear.

“Almost there . . . ” Raylan grunts.

I hazard a look.

We’re down at the level of the balcony below us, but we’re still hanging over open air. The balcony is recessed. We can’t quite reach the railing.

“I’m going to swing us. You have to grab it,” Raylan mutters, jaw clenched tight with strain.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know if I can.” It’s taking all my strength just to hold onto his back. We’re both slippery with sweat and smoke.

“You can do it,” Raylan says in his deep, calm voice. “I know you can.”

He kicks his legs to swing us out and in. The movement is horrible. It makes my stomach clench up. Holding on tight to his neck with my right arm, I reach with my left. My fingers slip helplessly across the slick metal railing. I miss.

“I can’t get it!” I cry.

“Yes you can,” Raylan says. “One more time—grab it tight.”

He swings us again, harder this time. I hear the awful purring sound of the sheet ripping apart. I grab the railing with all my strength and pull us toward it. Raylan throws his arm over, too. The railing hits me in the ribs and it fucking hurts, but I get my arm around it and hold on tight. Raylan shoves me over it, and we tumble down onto the cement. My heart is thundering in my chest. I’m panting and coughing harder than ever.

The apartment itself is dark—nobody inside. Either they already evacuated the building, or they were never home to start with. I pound on the glass door, but it’s pointless. The door is locked and nobody’s coming to open it.