The blat-blat-blat pitched raucous and high. Blaring again and again. The noise took an ice pick to my head. I jerked upright in bed, smacking both hands over my ears.
“What is it?” Brittany shouted.
I sucked in deep breaths. “A fire alarm!”
Blat-blat-blat. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Shaley, what do we do?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard a fire alarm in a hotel. I pulled back the covers and forced my feet to the floor. “We have to get out of here!” I stood up, swaying, my body groggy and heavy.
Blat-blat-blat. The noise was about to burst my brain open.
Brittany groaned. “Maybe it’s a false alarm.”
“We can’t rely on that. Besides, you want to stay and listen to this?”
“No.” Brittany slid out of bed.
We switched on a lamp, blinking in the sudden light, and slipped into the clothes we’d taken off just a few hours ago. My arms and legs were limbering up. I shoved my feet into my shoes, remembering to grab my room key from the nightstand. “Ready?”
Brittany flipped uncombed hair from her face. “Yeah!”
Mom pounded on the connecting door. I leapt for it and swung it open.
Mom stood in shorts and a T-shirt, tension in her every movement. “Come with me.” She swiveled toward her room. Brittany and I scurried after her.
“You’re not going out there alone!” Mom yelled over her shoulder as we hurried through her room. “Mick’s outside, ready to take us down. Shaley, don’t you move from his side.”
We slammed through the door and into the hall, then ran for the stairwell, Mick beside me. The noise was every bit as loud out there as in our rooms.
As he ran, Mick’s right hand hovered waist high, near the gun he always wore beneath his shirt.
Rooms slid by in peripheral vision. Other band members popped out of their doors, joining us in our flight.
Mick’s right fingers flexed.
We reached the steps. With no food in my stomach, I felt so weak. My legs started to wobble on the very first flight. We had fourteen floors to go down.
Blat-blat-blat. The alarm ricocheted off the hard stairs and metal railing, the stark white walls. Echoes bounced around my aching head, their vibrations thudding through my chest.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
Why hadn’t I eaten dinner last night?
Ninth floor. Eighth.
Thudding feet and the open-mouthed pants of everyone crowding the stairwell blended with the screech of the alarm. A long line formed, people moving as fast as they could, more joining us through banging doors at every landing. Vaguely I registered the second looks of numerous people as they recognized the band members. Their curious eyes made me want to shrink away.
Mick held me tightly by the right elbow, his other hand still poised above his gun.
Seventh floor.
Sixth.
Fifth.
My vision blurred, my feet moving on their own. I couldn’t even feel them anymore. A buzzing started in my brain, whirling around and around, fueled with each sounding of the alarm. I dropped my jaw wide open, sucking air.
Fourth.
Third.
Almost there, Shaley, almost there.
Memories of the mall pierced my head. The noise, the crowd —
I stumbled.
“Whoa!” Mick jerked me upright.
Second floor. Sweat rolled down my temple. I’d lost Brittany. Where was she?
One more level.
Ground floor. My heel banged down on the last stair.
I tripped on my own feet. Mick threw an arm around me and pulled me to the exit. We burst through the heavy door and into the parking lot. Cool air slapped my cheeks. I gasped.
A camera flash split the night.
The sudden light spun terror through me. I jerked back as if I’d been hit.
“Get out of here!” Mick roared. He encircled me with his arms, spun me away.
Another flash, a second, and third. I cringed in Mick’s arms.
Then — pounding feet. They retreated into the night.
I squeezed my eyes shut and slumped against Mick’s chest. Whimpers spilled from my lips.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He patted my head. “They’re gone.”
Brittany and Mom ran up to us. Mom pulled me from Mick’s arms and held me tightly. Soon the others materialized in groups, their chests heaving. Rich, Stan, Kim, and Morrey escorted by Wendell. Ross, Lois, Melissa, Carly, and Marshall with Bruce.
Inside the hotel, the alarm still screamed.
Mick scuttled us off to the side of the parking lot, away from other people and the bright pole lamps, and we formed a huddle. The three bodyguards faced outward. Brittany and I clung to each other. Familiar voices spoke, cursing the alarm and lack of sleep — and how hard that would make the next concert. Mom and Ross talked in low tones. I couldn’t say a word. Couldn’t even get enough oxygen. I raked in air, tears biting my eyes. Don’t be such a baby, I scolded myself. But too little sleep, no food, and way too much fear got the best of me.
My legs trembled.
The last thing I remember is sliding through Brittany’s arms toward the hard, dark asphalt.