“This building is old and made of plaster and sticks—it’s going to come down.” RJ had visions of 9-11, the buildings imploding, and her at the very top. “We need to get out of here.”

Across from them, the two doctors had also hit the ground, holding their hands over their heads. Phoebe was screaming, her hands over her ears.

“Where?” Ziggy said and her face betrayed the worst.

From the doorway that led down to the elevators billowed black smoke.

York.

Oh—

She nearly got up. Nearly ran right to the black smoke. But the last—very last—thing York would want her to do was try and rescue him.

No. She had to get herself, Phoebe, the men and Ziggy off the roof.

Although, honestly, Ziggy could probably manage for herself.

Still—RJ had sat here and gotten the lay of the land. They couldn’t scale the high wall—but behind them, they could escape through the next building.

“Follow me!” She got up and grabbed Phoebe’s hand. Gestured to the men across from them.

The building continued to shake. “It’s going to collapse!” Phoebe yelled.

Maybe, but not until they were off it.

Don’t think about York.

She ran over to the apartment attached to the hotel. The windows had cracked with the shudder of the building.

But she’d been right about the rooftop to the next building jutting out. They just needed to climb on the clay tile, get the window open and they could get out.

“I’ll go first,” Ziggy said, seeing the plan. She had to hoist herself up to the rooftop, and RJ gave her a push, holding up her hand for Ziggy to brace it on.

Ziggy kicked off a couple tiles. They crashed on the street below.

“Go easy. This roof is old, and these things are crumbling beneath me.”

Another tile flew off, and Ziggy slid toward the edge.

Phoebe screamed.

Ziggy caught herself on the roof edge, lay prone. “Okay, I’ll get to the window, open it, and then you push them up, and I’ll pull them to the window.”

RJ nodded, but held her hand up in case—what? She was going to catch Ziggy from sliding off the edge and five stories down? Maybe, okay.

Ziggy got to the window, then opened it. Braced her hand on the sill. “Ready.”

Behind them, more explosions sounded, the building trembling.

“C’mon, Phoebe,” RJ said and made a basket with her hands.

Phoebe shook her head.

“You must go!” This from one of the doctors, who came up and physically picked her up, pushing her foot into RJ’s hands, and manhandling her to the roof.

RJ might have taken a different approach, but it got the woman up and she grabbed Ziggy’s hand. Ziggy pulled her into the window.

“You next,” said the doctor who’d pushed Phoebe up.

“No—you go!”