out of miracles

- chapter four -

tw: swearing, near death

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Noah looks stunned. He shakes his head slightly as the masked person speed-walks away.

"Make sure they don't—" Noah begins, but the door's already shut. "Shit."

"What?" I ask. He's already out of his cell. He pulls open the door to mine and beckons me out. I drop the blanket off my shoulders, but he shakes his head.

"Keep it. You'll freeze without it. And hold your shirt over your mouth and nose."

I glance around after doing what he tells me to, and I'm startled to see smoke pouring out through the doorway in which the masked someone ran out, unknowingly leaving us.

"What's their 'plan'?" I ask, my voice coming out muffled through my shirt. He shakes his head again, and I take it to simply mean "later". Instead of saying this aloud, he grabs my hand and drags me through the doorway and up the staircase it leads into. My lungs are filled with black smoke. It smells like gasoline.

How reckless can these people be? Setting the place on fire to cover up whatever this is – it's the strangest plan I've ever heard. And definitely not a certain erasure, given the entire non-flammable stone basement that could easily be dug up through the wreckage.

The upstairs of the building isn't visible through the smoke and flames. I'm dangerously close to collapsing in my fit of coughs. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't—

The ceiling's caving in. A flaming wooden board falls inches to my left. Noah squeezes my hand.

I'm going to die, aren't I?

But nothing else is falling. The ceiling is perfectly upright.

I vaguely feel Noah drop my hand, then shove me forward. I keep walking, not stopping when my legs are ready to give way or when I can't see. I don't stop when I feel flames at my ankles. Before I know it, it's getting colder. It's a relief.

But he's not here.

I'm on my hands and knees, coughing and choking until my throat burns.

What the hell just happened?

"Noah?" I call, my voice rough and hardly strong enough to be heard by someone feet from me.

I wonder if...no. I shouldn't.

But I need to know if he's alive. I need to know if I let him die.

Ignoring the snow stinging the burns on my arms and legs, I fall back to the last thing I ever wanted to do.

It's easy to imagine his face in my head, and it's much too easy to pull myself into his thoughts.

They aren't completely dark. They're fuzzy. Hardly sufficient for human functioning.

He's alive, but ready to give up.

Oh hell no.

I'm no valiant hero that goes around saving everyone's lives, but this kid saved mine and I'm not going to let him die because I left him behind. I'm done letting people die for me.

I force myself back to reality, to where I'm kneeling in the snow, ready to vomit. I force myself to stand up, watching the building begin collapsing.

I'm leaning forward with my hands on my knees. I know it would be stupid to follow him into the fire. Not only am I on the verge of passing out, but letting myself die wouldn't help either of us.

I can guide him out, though.

I'm back in his head.

Noah? I think. I watch as the name reverberates around his head, waking him up just a bit.

Jess. It's his only thought.

Yeah. Hi. I don't exist, got it? I mean, I am you. Damnit, I've never intentionally done this before. Wake the hell up first. Clear your head. Can you see?

Smoke.

I know. Okay. What can you do? You held up the ceiling. Or maybe not. What was that?

I'm letting him hear my every thought. How nice.

Me, he thinks. It was me.

Good. Multi-word responses. I mean, that's great. Can you do it again?

He ponders this.

I don't know.

Please, Noah. I'm begging you.

He wasn't supposed to hear that part. Oh, well.

Watch out is all he responds with. I realize what's about to happen a second early. It's almost not enough.