She went back up to the ER entrance, humming a Spanish flamenco song as she rounded the corner toward the exit.

“Okay, I’ve got some not-so-good news…”

Her voice trailed off.

They were gone.

McPhee, Sarah, the kid—all vanished.

The only thing Jolie found was the plastic grocery bag with her own things in it, the paperback, the mouthwash, her little digital camera, lying on the floor twenty feet from the front door.

She picked it up, irrationally hoping against hope that McPhee had stuck the map in there. Of course he hadn’t. If she wanted it, she was going to have to find him and work for it. The question then became, how much did she really want the—

The explosion rang out distant but pervasive, a sonorous, rolling cloud of noise from the upper floors that made a sifting sound overhead, like hundreds of bricks subtly rearranging themselves. Jolie looked up as if there were something to see up there, but even the light fixtures looked normal.

She stood there motionless except for her eyes, feeling like the Felix the Cat clock she used to have as a kid, the one with the mischievous eyes and tail that swished back and forth, back and forth. First the missing map, now the big bang. In the life of Jolie Braun, in the ongoing litigation between curiosity and apprehension, curiosity always carried the day—it explained how she was always in so much trouble—and today was no exception. Map or no map, some part of her mind was already turning this into an anecdote to tell her friends at the bar: “I was working the last night before the hospital closed, when all of a sudden I heard this huge explosion…”

She headed upstairs to find out how her story was going to end.

15.

Cradling Eli with both arms, Sarah started toward the door leading down the stairs where McPhee had just gone. The silence humming behind that door was bursting, scarcely containing the pressure.

“Officer McPhee?”

Less than ten feet away, she had already shifted Eli’s body so she could reach for the door’s handle with her right hand, when something struck it from the other side.

Whatever it was crashed into the door with one blunt thump, forcefully enough to knock it open a few inches and release a tiny gasp of cool air against her forearm. Sarah jumped back, dropped her purse, almost dropped her child, and screamed.

In her arms, Eli jerked with shock, and then he, too, screamed and burst into tears. He was clutching onto her with his arms and legs now, and Sarah turned and ran back toward the desk, hearing the thumping sound of something pushing the door open behind her.

There was another crash, and Sarah knew from the sound of it that the door was swinging open behind her. Whatever was on the other side, some animal, some thing, would be out now, and after them.

She moved without the luxury of thought. The information desk was right in front of her. Lunging forward, gripping Eli with both arms, she turned her body so that her shoulder knocked the swivel chair aside. She landed on one hip and rolled so that her son was on top of her. He was still bawling loudly, pulling on her shoulders and hair with great vehemence. She placed her hand firmly over his mouth and clamped it tight, looking straight into his eyes.