Page 102 of Choke

“…stay inside your unit… keep doors closed… wet towels…”

I gotta get out of here.

Millie cries from the carrier, low, scared.

“I know, baby—” I cough hard.

I need to protect her.

I reach for the door slowly, touching it to see if it’s hot. We learned that in grade school: check for hot handles. It’s cool to the touch, so I unlock it and pull it open. The hallway is thick with smoke that curls around me like dark fingers, stinging my eyes and nose and forcing hot tears to spill. The emergency lights flicker above, casting strange and demented shadows in the smoky hall. With the power out, the elevators are out of the question, so I head toward the stairs, but the hallway seems impossibly long. It feels so much longer than usual. Each breath is thick with acrid bitterness and feels like razor blades.

God, I’m so tired.

I lean into the wall, allowing it to support my heavy body as I walk toward the stairs.

Maybe I’ll rest for a minute here.

My body feels like it weighs a ton, and my knees give way as I sink to the floor, pulling Millie’s carrier onto my lap and resting my forehead against the cool plastic. The air here feels clearer andthinner, and I breathe rapidly, my chest heaving with each inhale. My heart pounds against my chest, and my fingers feel numb. I could close my eyes for a few minutes and continue once I’ve rested a bit…

I let my eyes fall closed.

Just for a minute.

Then I’ll get to the stairs.

Strong hands grip my arms, pulling me from my nightmare.

I was dreaming of fire.

I open my eyes as I’m lifted, staring into a firefighter’s mask. My chest feels like fire is erupting from within me. He’s saying something I can’t comprehend. His strong hands, clad in rough gloves, dig into my arms, grimy and covered in soot. He lifts me to cradle me in his arms, and I realize my hands are empty. I try to catch his attention and tell him he’s leaving her behind. When he doesn’t stop or turn back, I fight. Kicking and punching with every ounce of strength I have, I strive to break free.

My feet hit the ground. I stagger, my legs barely holding me up. But then I lurch forward, running—back to where I was, where she was.

But it’s empty.

My head spins back and forth, searching the smoke-filled hall for Mildred. She’s gone.

nononono.

The strong hands grab me again; the tears spring from my eyes as I look at the stranger.

“My cat. Where’s my cat?” I sob.

He says something I can’t understand and pulls me.

I can’t leave her.

She must be in my condo.

I pull my arm from his and run. My legs pump, lungs burn. I scream her name in a voice that’s unrecognizable—hoarse and desperate. I reach my door and frantically search for her. Did I dream of putting her in the carrier? I check under the couch and under my bed. She’s not here. I push past the firefighter again, running out my door and back into the smokey hall.

She’s gotta be here.

I stumble and fall, coughs overtaking my body and—oh god, my lungs.

I try to stand and fail.

I can’t breathe.

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