Page 31 of Owned In Misty Mountain

He nods. That’s all I need.

I’m moving before anyone can hold me back.

“Mike—” someone grabs my arm.

I shake them off.

“She’s in there.”

“You can’t go in!”

“The fuck I can’t.”

Fourteen

Shanay

It starts with the smell.

Something sharp. Acrid. Burning.

I pause halfway through shelving a stack of new arrivals, nose wrinkling. Then I hear it—a faint crackle. A pop. A strange hum in the ceiling.

The fire alarm doesn’t go off right away.

But I know.

Ifeelit.

By the time I hit the hallway, smoke is already forming along the walls.

“Everyone out!” I shout, voice shaking but loud. “Now!”

The teens at the study tables jump to their feet. A mom grabs her toddler from the storytime corner. I usher them all toward the front, breath tight, heart pounding.

“I’ve got you, keep moving,” I say. Over and over, trying to believe it.

The smoke thickens fast.

There’s coughing. Crying. Panic all around.

I get them to the exit—shove the door open—and push the last kid through just as the first siren wails in the distance.

I’m about to follow.

I should follow.

But I think I hear something.

I turn back—step into the hallway—

And then the ceiling groans.

Everything goes black for a second.

Something crashes behind me, blocking the way out. Smoke rushes in like a wave.

I cover my mouth.

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