concrete. The lights were out and what little he could see was illuminated by the small flames that now seemed to flicker almost everywhere.
Most of the corridor outside was hidden by black, curling smoke.
He rubbed his face and was shocked to find blood on his hand when he took it away. He could feel a large, ragged cut Across his - left cheek where flying glass or debris had slashed it. He - dabbed at it with his handkerchief to try and stanch the flow of blood, then gave up.
The initial shock was now wearing off and a feeling of panic setting in. Something more terrible than the fire had happened-and it had happened close at hand. He had to get out, he couldn’t wait any longer. He hesitated before taking the brief case, then decided to risk it. He grabbed the precious case and stumbled down the aisle toward the outer corridor, picking his way around chairs and file cabinets that had been toppled by.the explosions.
The glass was gone from the outside door, shards of it lying on the floor. It was probably a flying piece of glass from the door that had cut his cheek, he thought.
Heavy clouds of smoke now boiled through the corridor, laced with occasional tongues of fire. He started to cough. Christ, the whole place was going up. He pulled at the door from force of habit and jumped back as it fell from its hinges, almost trapping him under it.
In the hallway, the dense, black smoke bit into his lungs, starting another fit of coughing. Every now and then a puff of hot, wet air condensed on his face and he realized the steam lines in the, building must have broken. Far away, he could hear the cries of firemen coming from one of the stairwells to which they had retreated. A beam of light from a flashlight cut momentarily through the murk and he dodged to one side. He would try and get to the other stairwell; chances were all the firemen were at the nearest one. He knew where it was; he could feel his way to it.
He stooped low to avoid most of the smoke and held out his hand in front of him; the light from the small fires in-the corridor was becoming stronger now and he would have to hurry to avoid being seen.
He ran forward, doing his best not to cough, and in the next instant sprawled over an abandoned fire hose, the brief case spinning out of his grasp. Its catch snapped and packages of bills held together by rubber bands bounced across the corridor floor.
He grabbed at them, then realized he was on the edge of hell itself.
A few feet beyond the shattered wall of the utility core, part of.
the floor itself was gone, the rest of it sloping gently down into the gap in the wall. Through the breech he could seethe stark utilitarian outlines of the interior of the utility core itself. For a moment he was paralyzed with fear and hugged the floor, staring at the bundles of bills and the brief case lying just beyond his fingertips.
For a long moment he lay there; then he sensed a slow draft of air in the corridor flowing toward the open utility core. Scattered bills from a broken bundle of fifties stirred slightly with a life all their own, then tumbled like wind-blown leaves into the chasm beyond. Hughes whimpered and crawled forward, grabbing frantically for the bills. A clump of them caught on an exposed section of wire mesh and reinforcing rods where the concrete floor had been shattered. There was fire on the floor beneath, and in the rising heat-some of the bills began to blacken and then burst into flame, setting fire to the other bills on the mesh.
Freedom, the Adriatic coast, a new life were burning up just beyond his reach. It was too much for Hughes.
He got to his knees and clutched for the money, frantically trying to beat out the flames. One packet of bills rolled toward the, mesh, smoldered while he was trying to beat out the flames on individual bills, and started to burn around the edges. Hughes grabbed for it, then suddenly realized his hands were blistering and his face was raw from the heat. The hot air began to sear his lungs.
He tried to roll back, away from the jagged mesh and the chasm beyond. Suddenly the small section of floor that he was on tipped and crumbled. He toppled forward and caught the full strength of the heat from the fire below.
For an instant he was looking straight down the core for the entire eighteen floors.
He tried desperately to pull back, his feet scrabbling on powdered concrete. For a brief moment he was poised on the edge, like a figure in a freeze frame of a motion picture. Then the floor beneath him was gone and he plunged into the smoky darkness’of the utility core.
Time slowed and he could feel himself tumbling in the strong draft?
from the bottom of the shaft. He felt a touch of heat and as he turned looked up to see the final bundle of burning bills falling toward him.
The fiery packet of money looked for all the world like a great flaming eye set in the face of some terrible, avenging God.
CHAPTER 53
Douglas was completely unprepared for the explosions.
The stairwell lights went out immediately after the first blast.
There had been two explosions some floors below and then a more muffled one somewhere above them. It was the last one that worried him the most. He had hoped they could reach the Promenade Room and then take the elevators back down, or else simply wait while. the firemen put out the fires on the lower floors.
The explosions shattered his hopes and with the sudden darkness came new fear. Albina had been terrified at first; now she had simply withdrawn. She-obviously did not expect to live out the night and was resigned to it.
Jesus had immediately gone to pieces and Douglas had to slap him out of his hysterics. After that, they had followed him in silence up the shadowy stairwell; the only light was that which came from the windows at the various landings. Albina needed more and more help and the rest stops became more frequent. There was little smoke at this height, however.
Douglas was now halfway up the landing to the sixty-fourth floor.
He turned to wait for Albina, who was half pulling herself up the stairs with one hand on the railing and the other on Jesus’ shoulder.
She stopped to rest; both she and Jesus were breathing heavily.
“Come on, come on,” Douglas called impatiently. “Do you need help?”
“Go to hell, man; We’ll make it.” Jesus sounded exhausted and Douglas felt sorry for him. From pride, Jesus had taken over the task of helping his mother up the steps. He had continued to help her through sheer grit and gutter courage, though Douglas also admitted that part of it-may have been due to his own constant ragging and shaming of Jesus. Now the kid was trembling with fatigue.
Douglas walked back down a few steps and held out his hand.
“Here, Albina, grab hold.” Jesus started to brush his hand aside, then shrugged as Albina clutched Douglas’ fingers. Between them, they supported her for the last few steps.
“How much farther?” Jesus asked. In the dimly lit stairwell, he looked almost green.
“One more flight and we’ll be at the Observation Deck,” Douglas said.
“We should be able to get in there.”
The stairwell was open at the top and the bottom and from what he remembered, the top was the Observation Deck. They could get up to the Promenade Room from there but that was by an interior flight of steps that connected only the deck and the restaurant itself.
Jesus nodded, then suddenly looked up at Douglas, his face twisted with anger. “You dumb son of a bitch!”
Douglas reddened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The electricity, man! All the lights went out when we heard the explosions, right? We should’ve tried the doors right then, the locks must have gone out, too!”
Douglas stared, then turned to the door behind him.
Sixty-four. The machinery-room floor just below the Observation Deck. He reached out and touched the knob, then jerked back. “Not this one,” he said grimly. “Let’s get up to the Observation Deck right away.”
Jesus hung back. “Not me, man. I’m getting off right here. I’m not going to walk up one more goddamn flight of stairs if it kills me.”
