The smoke was a wall of black. He thought he should have been clear by this point. The fire must have advanced since he entered the blaze. He had no hope of escape. His body was shaking, wobbling, as if he were being rolled in a washing machine, bounced around. His legs gave out. He fell to the floor, William on top of him. Everything went black.

Peyton stopped just short of the burning rows of cubicles. She panted, trying to catch her breath. Her chest heaved and ached. But she had to push on. She covered her mouth and drew the deepest breath she could, preparing to rush in.

At that moment, she saw a figure emerging from the smoke. Avery. Walking backwards. Dragging someone. Peyton peered around her, saw the short, dyed black hair. Desmond.

As soon as she was clear of the fire, Avery fell to the floor. Desmond’s head rested in her lap. Avery’s eyes rolled as she leaned back and coughed.

Peyton bent over Desmond, covering her mouth as she coughed. He wasn’t breathing. The fire—the smoke inhalation—had asphyxiated him.

With every once of energy she had, Peyton dragged him from Avery’s legs and ripped off his body armor.

Avery lay motionless, watching with watery eyes.

“My father?” Peyton asked urgently.

Avery closed her eyes, could barely move her head to shake it.

Peyton tried to focus.

She began chest compressions, counted to thirty, and started giving him rescue breaths.

Panting, she said, “Avery, I need you to find an AED.”

The woman rolled onto her belly, pushed up with her elbows on shaking arms. Her head bobbed from side to side, like a boxer about to go down for the count. She collapsed again, rolled onto her back, and gasped for breath. She would pass out soon.

A scraping sound came from the wall of smoke.

Peyton looked up to find her father limping out of the fire, one arm covering his mouth.

She started another round of chest compressions.

William fell to his knees beside her and coughed. “Get out.”

Peyton looked down at Desmond. She couldn’t carry him. None of them could. But she wouldn’t leave him. She had lost him once; she wouldn’t again. She couldn’t. Couldn’t bear the thought of standing outside, watching the building burn, knowing he was in there.

In that moment, she finally understood, truly understood, what he had gone through as a child. It was unimaginable. The guilt. The remorse. And to go through it so young.

The flames and smoke were advancing. She placed her hands under Desmond’s armpits and dragged him farther away. William crawled, collapsed beside Desmond, and panted, trying to get his breath. He unstrapped his own body armor, drew out a folder. His voice came out raspy and strained.

“Avery!”

The woman was ten feet from them, closer to the fire and smoke. She held her head up.