RASHID PUT HIS HANDS on wet tile, pushed himself to his feet, and felt around for the hallway door that he’d let go of when the shaking had started for the second time, plunging the bathroom into blackness.
He gagged at the taste of blood and squinted into the blackness. His heart thundered in his ears, louder and louder blocking out everything else. There was only darkness and terror.
Wait. Where was his phone?
He’d had it before the second explosion. Where did it go?
Rashid felt around for it on the floor, trying not to get cut by broken glass. It had to be there. Please let it be here.
Rashid’s hand closed over the phone, and he let out a sigh of relief when he hit the button and the screen glowed. The glass was cracked, but when he swiped the screen, it still worked.
Using the flashlight on the phone to cut through the darkness, Rashid found his bag under the counter, along with everything that had fallen out of it when it had dropped off the sink. He quickly grabbed everything, wiping off the Koran as best he could before shoving it all in his bag. Then, glass crunching beneath his shoes, Rashid crossed to the door and pulled it open.
There was a wall of debris blocking the opening. There was no way he could get out of this room on his own. He was stuck here. He might die here.
“Hello?” he yelled. “Are you still there?” Are you still alive? Please still be alive.
“Damn it!” the voice exploded. “We’re trapped.”
“Who’s trapped?” Was there more than one person out in the hallway?
“We are!” the guy yelled. “The stairs just caved in, and now the two of us are both screwed.”
“I’m sorry,” Rashid said. “There will be another way out.” There had to be. Rashid had to have faith. “Once I get out of this bathroom, the two of us will find it. And I can call for help. I have a phone.”
“Did you call 911?”
“I made a call,” he said, careful not to lie. His father always told him lies were a sin against oneself, and he was certain that dozens of people had already reported the explosions at the school. Help would be coming with or without his call. He looked at the debris blocking his exit.
“I’m going to try to push whatever this is out of the way!” the other guy shouted. “Move back. I don’t want something to fall and hit you when I do this.”
Rashid stepped back into the darkness and shifted his weight from side to side as he waited for something—anything—to move so he could get out of here. Squatting, Rashid peered at a small gap that was letting in light and saw black shoes on the other side. Rashid heard a grunt as the guy tried to move things out of the doorway.
The guy swore. “This isn’t working.”
Rashid went cold. He was never getting out.
“It’s all too heavy to move, but I might be able to shift this beam to the side and keep it there long enough for you to crawl through. Wanna try it?”
Of course he did. “Give me one second.” He shoved his phone into the bag, then crouched down. “Okay. I am ready whenever you are.” He hoped.
After a couple of seconds of watching the black shoes shuffle and get into position, he heard, “Get ready to move your ass.”
Rashid held his breath and watched the opening. “Okay,” he called. Each second felt like minutes as he waited for something to happen. Then, finally, there was a scraping sound as the thick beam blocking the opening moved a bit to the side. The gap was an inch bigger. Two. A couple more, and he might be able to fit.
“I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to hold this.”
Rashid could hear the strain in the other boy’s voice and prayed his new friend could hang on just a little longer.
Another inch. The gap was almost big enough. Almost . . .
Now. Rashid gave the bag a shove and sent it through the opening, then launched himself through. All summer he had heard from his aunts and cousins and grandmother how he was too skinny. He was glad for that now.
“Move,” the black-shoed guy said. “Not . . . much longer. Hurry.”
He did. Rashid rolled onto his back and pulled his legs and feet through the opening just as the slab of debris slammed back down.