In those last precious moments when everyone thought the evacuation was as interesting as their evening was going to get, Rex Russell gave a gentle sigh. He had held back while others pressed forward, partly out of politeness, but also because he didn’t want to spill his popcorn.
His wife had suggested using one of the side exits that were less crowded, but it was cold outside and they had their eight-year-old granddaughter with them. He had reminded his wife that the theatre was brand new and there was unlikely to be a genuine problem. They were probably being used as guinea pigs for the first full evacuation.
Expecting the alarm to be silenced at any moment, Rex shuffled beneath the shadow of the circle, missing the peculiar shower of grit that attracted Hilary Clarke’s attention directly above him. ‘Maybe we should sit—’
An explosion of falling masonry and splintered timber propelled Rex forward into sudden darkness. His popcorn flew into the air as he landed on his hands and knees. The emergency lighting came on, but there was a dense cloud of dust swirling around him, pressing against his chest with almost as much force as the terror gripping his heart. Frantically, he groped around until he found his wife and granddaughter. They needed to move, but he sensed danger ahead, where the crowd had contracted into an impossibly small space. Danger lay behind them too, in the smouldering ruins.
Choking on dust, Rex scrambled sideways until his back was pressed against the wall. He pulled his family close to him, wanting to shield them as best he could, but his arms were as short and stout as his body. He wasn’t built for heroics. All he could do was put his hands over his granddaughter’s ears so she didn’t have to listen to the screams; screams that eventually faded to whimpers and pleas for help. Even the fire alarm had lost its breath and was a distant mewl.
Amelia released a whimper as the beam of light tempted her into consciousness. It made her eyes sting and she closed them tight, willing the darkness to take her again.
‘Please wake up. Oh God, please wake up.’
‘Mum?’ Amelia asked as she was roused once more. The ground that should be below her was above her head, and she couldn’t figure out why. Then she began to cry.
‘It’s OK, I’ll have you out in no time.’
When something moved above Amelia’s head, an avalanche of dust poured into her makeshift coffin. She choked on the air.
‘Sorry, lovely,’ said the woman. She was coughing too between groans and moans as more of the weight pinning Amelia down was shifted.
The girl’s confusion persisted. ‘I think I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole.’
‘I think you might be right, but it’s time to come out.’
‘My friend Evie was the white rabbit. On the stage.’
‘I bet you were excited to see her.’ Her rescuer’s voice was clearer now that the tomb around Amelia had been dismantled.
With a pained groan, the woman manoeuvred a large piece of timber and dislodged a slab of masonry in the process. Pain shot along one of Amelia’s legs, making her cry out. Everything went black, until the shining light found her again. Minutes may have elapsed, or only seconds. Amelia couldn’t tell.
‘I need you to be brave now,’ the woman said. ‘Do you think you could hold this for me?’
Light came towards Amelia and a torch was pressed into her hand. It fitted inside her palm and, as she pointed it at her rescuer, she recoiled with fresh horror. The woman’s face was the colour of stone. It was as if one of the figures moulded into the ceiling had come down to save her.
Her rescuer smiled. ‘It won’t be long before you can see Evie again.’
‘I want my mum,’ Amelia replied, fighting the urge to cry.
She hurt so much, from the top of her broken head to the tip of her crushed toes. Her nose was blocked, but she could taste the smoke. The woman was framed in an orange glow, and the specks of red and yellow light floating around her looked like fireflies.
‘So, are you a dancer too?’ the woman asked, forcing Amelia’s attention away from the fire.
‘No, I want to be a director.’
The woman leant over Amelia to clear more debris, and the torch picked out a silver pendant hanging from her neck. ‘Sorry, but this might hurt a wee bit.’
As Amelia braced herself for the excruciating pain that would eclipse everything else, she focused only on the pendant as it moved back and forth. The woman heaved a piece of masonry that had been pinning down her arm and then Amelia was falling back into her imagined rabbit hole.
Rex could see the same eerie glow that had entranced Amelia. It was taking over the auditorium as he cowered against the wall. The dust had settled enough to reveal the dam of writhing bodies blocking the main exit. The crowd had shrunk, but not nearly enough, and the smell of smoke was growing stronger.
‘I want to go home,’ sobbed his granddaughter.
Rex’s wife turned to him. ‘We have to find another way out.’
She went to stand up, but Rex stopped her. ‘I’ll go,’ he insisted. He cupped her dusty face in his hand and kissed her. ‘I know I haven’t said this enough, but I love you.’
‘Don’t be getting all mushy,’ his wife said with a flicker of a smile that was snuffed out by panic when her husband moved to leave. ‘I love you too, Rex. Please, make sure you come back to us.’
Clambering over seats to reach the aisle, Rex crept closer to where the upper tier gave up its shelter until he could take in the full horror. One half of the theatre had been smashed to pieces and the illuminated arrows that were meant to point to the nearest of the side exits pointed to a mountain of broken rafters and rubble. There were fires at ground level, but so far its spread was limited. The danger lurked above where a large section of the ceiling was missing. Dense smoke filled the void in the roof, and it was this that glowed orange as gusts of wind fanned the flames. Burning embers floated down and, more alarmingly, occasional pieces of debris crashed to the ground.
There was less damage on the far side of the theatre and, peering through the gloom, Rex found what he was looking for; a green exit sign close to the stage. He watched as a handful of survivors broke cover and raced towards it. That was where they had to reach, but, before Rex turned to fetch his wife and granddaughter, he looked back to where they had been sitting earlier. In the spot where he had left the little girl to wait for her mum, there was a mound of debris. His streaming eyes disguised his tears. It was too late for her. He had to think of his own family.