Part 1: Nah'Nua

  I first met Kate on the morning of my death.

  Overnight, a heavy wet snowfall had turned the streets into a combination of swimming pool and skating rink. As I stepped off the curb, I glanced over my shoulder and saw a truck skidding toward me. The driver fought the wheel, terror on his face. The vehicle struck a fire hydrant, veered off to the side, mounted the curb, and barrelled into the lobby of the Colonnade.

  The truck rolled onto its side, and the fuel tank slammed into a protruding beam. Gasoline began to spill across the lobby and onto the street.

  The truck had knocked over a Christmas tree on the curb that was plugged into an outlet in a planter. The wires leading to the lights in the tree began to spark just as the gasoline reached it. Flames flared up and raced over to the building. I threw myself down on the ground as the fumes in the lobby exploded in a shower of fire and glass.

  Debris rained over me and a fragment nicked my arm. I pulled myself to my feet and stared at the fa?ade, now a series of gaping holes and flames. I looked up to the fifth floor and saw small faces staring out the window. A sign across the top read "Montessori School”.

  “Shit.”

  I ran across the road, dodging a couple of burning cars. Flames were licking across the doors to the building. I wrapped my hand in my hoodie and yanked on the door. It was jammed solid.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked to my left to see a woman. She was holding a shattered piece of concrete the size of a bowling ball. She jerked her head, and I moved off to the side. She slammed the concrete into the door twice, and it popped off the frame.

  “Open all the time,” she said.

  We pushed our way into the lobby, and I headed towards the elevator. She grabbed me by my arm.

  “Bad idea”, she said. “If the power goes off, you're going to be stuck in that box.”

  I nodded. She pointed over to the corner, and I saw a sign illuminating the stairs. That door opened easily enough, and she charged up. I followed her as best I could, but by the time we hit the fifth floor, I could barely breathe. She was not even breathing hard when she hit the landing. We pushed our way through the exit and looked both ways.

  To the right, I could hear children crying. We ran down the hall and saw a sign indicating the school. Smoke was beginning to trickle through gaps in the ceiling. We pushed open the door, and I turned around to jam it closed. In the hallway, I heard the crackle of flames.

  A group of fifteen or sixteen children stared at us. None were older than five. I studied the classroom. The only exit that I could see was the one that we had entered. I smiled at the kids and stepped over to the window. The street below me was covered in snow and ice, and as I watched, two fire trucks, sirens wailing, came to a stop. Men piled out and began to study the area. The sidewalk was jammed with planters, and I saw no way that they could bring in the trucks close enough to extend a ladder.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The woman walked up and stood next to me. Up close, I could finally make out details: olive-green uniform, stripes on the shoulder, the kind of bearing that said military even without the insignia.

  "Armed forces?"

  She nodded.

  "Officer?"

  She snorted. "I work for a living. Sergeant Major." She studied the scene below, jaw working. "We need to get these kids out this window somehow."

  I nodded. "They're not going to get a ladder up here," I said.

  I dropped on one knee and looked at the children. "Hi," I said. "I'm Charlie. Where's your teacher?"

  One of the girls was clutching a stuffed toy. She stared at the carpet. "She said she was leaving to get help," she wiped the back of her hand across her nose, " She was going to get Ms. Martinez.”

  "Well," I said, "we're going to help you, me and—” I looked up at the woman.

  "Kate," she said.

  I looked around the room. There was nothing I could see that I could use as a rope. I crossed over to the other side and started opening cupboards. Art supplies. Blocks. Crayons.

  Inside the fourth cupboard was a large reel with a label that read ‘100-meter extension cord’. I started wheeling over the apparatus towards the window.

  "Kate," I said, "See that curtain on the far window? Do me a favor and get it off the wall."

  She didn't hesitate. She ran over, yanked on the curtain and tore it off the rail in a single motion. “What now?" she said.

  "Tear the curtain into strips. I need a hook on the top of each strip.”

  I looked over at the little girl again, "What's your name?"

  “Terry.”

  "Okay, Terry. Here's what I need you to do: I need to borrow your little bear and your backpack.

  She pulled them over to me. Kate passed me the first strip, and I secured it around the backpack, tucking the toy into the top. I pulled the end of the extension cord out of the reel and tied it around a radiator near the window. Then I tried to lift the reel. I got it up a couple of inches before I dropped it and staggered back.

  Kate walked over and looked at me. "What do you need?" she asked.

  “I need the window open so we can unspool the reel out towards the street.”

  She grabbed a nearby chair, twirled it in her hands, and knocked out the window with surgical precision.

  "You're really good at smashing things," I said.

  “It's my job description.” She picked up the reel and looked at me. I nodded. She threw it out the window as if it weighed no more than a feather, and it sailed down, trailing the cord behind it as it went. It hit the pavement below and kept on spinning, heading out towards the fire trucks. I saw the fireman stare at it, and then one ran forward, grabbed the reel, and started passing it to one of his coworkers on top of the truck.

  "Somebody's using their head," I said.

  The fireman on top of the truck raised his fist with his thumb up. The extension cord lay in a catenary between the window and the truck. I picked up the backpack with the bear, settled the hook on the wire, and gave it a push. The pack slid quickly down, past the bottom of the arc, and came to a halt on the upslope.

  Kate was already strapping Terry into the next strip of curtain. She picked up the girl and held her out of the window. As I positioned the hook once more on the extension cord, Terry started to cry. I kissed the top of her head and said, "You're going to be fine. This is going to be fun."

  Kate let her go, and she slid down the cord screaming in a high-pitched voice. One of the firemen caught her at the bottom.

  Smoke started filtering out of the ceiling. Kate and I fell into a rhythm; she tore the curtain into strips while I fastened the makeshift harnesses around the children and sent them down the wire one after the other.

  By the time we got the last child out, smoke was filling the room, and the door was glowing a cherry red. I grabbed the last few strips of curtains and passed two to Kate. She started strapping them around her body.

  Debris began to trickle down past the windows. First some fragments of glass, then pieces of concrete, and finally a mass of debris that roared past the window, snapping the wire with a viscous crack. Dust and flames poured through the shattered windows. I felt Kate grab me and yank me into the centre of the room. I could not breathe, and my eyes were stinging with the smoke. The door frame started to burn.

  We stared at each other and Kate shrugged.

  "Well," she said, "we got the kids out."

  I tried to answer her but began to cough. My sleeves were on fire, and I could smell burning hair. I nodded at her and gave a thumbs up.

  Blackness.