Jamie put his hands up. He knew they’d just about had a battle of extraordinary abilities, but really, this wasn’t the time. How else could he make that clear? “Okay. Can I help?”
“No. Stay away from me. Far away. I don’t trust you.”
“We’re in a burning building. I don’t want to—” He shook his head, deciding not to go there. “Okay. Okay fine. We’ll wait here. I’ll try to keep people calm.”
Zoe turned and opened the door, then hesitated. She looked at the crowd, including the panicking people and Ian trying to talk them down, then at Jamie. “Actually, one thing. Keep them in here. So they don’t see me doing...” Her hands waved in a short gesture. “Doing my thing.”
“Go. I got it.”
Zoe disappeared beyond the door. One man tried to follow her, but Jamie grabbed him. “What are you doing?” he said, arms pushing beyond Jamie.
“You gotta trust her. She’s going to get us out.”
“How? How is one person going to get us out? What are we doing sitting in here?”
“She’s not just one person.”
The man began yelling at full volume, and though he stood shorter than Jamie, his presence became more threatening. “What the hell does that mean? Get out of my—”
His voice halted and his eyes looked blankly ahead. It was the lightest of brain-stuns, though not the best place for it. However, if Zoe could fly, she could surely carry one stunned man out of a burning building.
A scream erupted down the hall, loud enough to break past the noise of flames and alarms, followed by words clearly from Zoe: “Ow! God fucking damn it!” One look behind him showed Jamie that Ian and the others must have heard it; they all stared at him, wide-eyed, and perhaps Ian just realized that Zoe wasn’t there. He stood and began approaching when Zoe burst through the door.
“It’s clear. But you have to go now.”
Ian nodded, then began ushering people out. There they went, three, four, five people, and no one seemed to notice the one brain-stunned man, probably because the chaos matched the oncoming smoke. Zoe squinted, looking distant—maybe thermally tracking them—and then turned to Jamie. “They’re out.”
Three people remained: Ian, the brain-stunned man, and then another man who had collapsed to his knees, face covered by his hands.
“He’s panicking,” Ian said, a calm group-leader tone still in his voice despite the chaos.
There was one way to get him to settle down.
“Go,” Jamie said, “we can handle this.” Zoe shot him a look, one eyebrow raised, but there wasn’t time to discuss. “Go, now. Trust us.”
“Alright,” he said. He opened the door, yelping when he touched the doorknob. The bright orange of licking flames radiated into the space before he sprinted out, coat over the top of his head.
“He’s safe,” Zoe said. “I think. Hard to see heat signatures with all the flames. But pretty sure. What’s your plan?”
“You carry him to safety.” He pointed at the currently stunned man. “While you do that, I’ll stun that guy over there. Then we run out together.”
“Did you steal that guy’s memories?”
“What? No, of course not. I stunned him. He was trying to chase you. I was protecting your secret.”
Despite the thickening smoke and oppressive heat, Zoe shifted in her stance. Sweaty, dirty and caked in soot, somehow she looked more vibrant than the woman who shared earlier today.
“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it.” She tossed the man over her shoulder with frightening ease, as simple as when Jamie picked up Normal, and then she sprinted out at full speed, like a coiled-and-ready horse bursting out of the gate. By the time Jamie stunned the panicking man, Zoe had returned.
“Holy shit, you’re fast.”
“See? I would have caught you today if I wasn’t hungover.”
“Well, lucky for all these people, then. Let’s finish this.” He gestured to the stunned man, whom Zoe picked up. Jamie pulled his sleeve down over his palm and gripped the doorknob to toss the door open, only to reveal that another beam had collapsed. Rather than a hallway, a large wooden X blocked their way, and it was on fire.
7
ZOE BLAMED ALL OF this on daytime drinking. None of this would have happened if she’d avoided doing that.
“You know how you said we don’t have much time?” Jamie turned to Zoe, his expression matching his aura. Weary, defeated, but mildly amused. “We’re out of time. It’s just fire. From top to bottom.”
The man on her shoulder stirred, and she adjusted him enough to maintain her balance as she kicked the door. It tore off its hinges and flew down the hallway, colliding into the beams. Yet the wall of fire still blocked their path, just like what the Satanic magician did to his terrified audience in that one movie she saw a few weeks ago. But the hero in that, a wiry man with a curly brown mullet and an even thicker mustache, found a way out—not through the flames, but via a crack in the wall made bigger by a conveniently placed axe.
As she scanned for any way around, pain seared her palms, a reminder of the debris she’d just cleared minutes earlier. Bruises healed quickly, but burn scars were something new to deal with.
“Well,” Jamie said. “You wanted to catch me. This was one way to do it.”
“Hold on.” Zoe searched the room, eyes darting quickly. Think, think, think, she told herself. If mullet-mustache guy in The Magical Death Show could find a way out, so could she. They were trapped, the path up the stairs blocked and the four walls around them solid. No windows, no emergency exit, just beams and concrete.
Concrete. Of course. The back wall.
Concrete wouldn’t burn. But it could be knocked down. She could be mullet-mustache guy and the axe all in one.
Zoe set the man down on the floor. “Stay with him. I don’t know how long this is going to take.”
“How long what’s gonna—”
Zoe didn’t let him finish. She sprinted full speed and launched herself at the back wall. Her shoulder slammed into it, creating an oval dent and crack lines spidering farther out.
From behind, she heard Jamie say, “Holy shit.”
Pain radiated from her shoulder, but she shook it off. One look around and she knew none of that mattered right now. She took a good dozen or so step backs, then rammed the wall again, then repeated it two more times until the divot became a deeper hole, the cracks giving away to falling chunks. She turned on her hip and started kicking the largest crack, dust flying in her face, mixing with the thickening smoke. “Come on,” she yelled, throwing her foot over and over, then switching over to punches that tore apart her knuckles. Another punch and another punch and finally another, and suddenly her hand exploded through the other side of the wall, fingers touching the cool night air.