Leapholes

DANGER: NO ADMITTANCE, LEVEL ONE CLEARANCE ONLY.

The coach's expression soured. "All that restricted area nonsense goes out the window when there's a fire. Out of my way." He backed up, then ran toward the door at full speed, putting his shoulder into it. On impact, he cried out in pain, but the door didn't budge.

"That's not going to work," said Kaylee.

The coach grimaced. "No kidding, Einstein."

"I have an idea," said Ryan. "All I need is a rope."

"I got an idea, too," said Coach. "All I need is a fire truck."

"I can find a rope," said Kaylee. She went to Head Case- the old woman who had that fifteen-foot streamer of extra bandage trailing behind her. "You don't need that, do you?"

"No. They were bandaging my head when the alarm went off. I was still attached to the roll when I ran out of the ER."

"Good." Kaylee tore off the extra bandage, then ripped it into thirds, long ways, from end to end. She was left with three skinny bandage strips, and she started braiding them together. "Ryan, you start at the other end, and do exactly what I'm doing."

Quickly, they twisted the three lengths together until they had a rope. Kaylee knotted both ends, and Ryan gave it a tug. It was much stronger than a single bandage strip. "This should work," he said. "Now, Coach, you're going to take this rope and lower me down the elevator shaft to the floor below us. Hopefully, the door to the stairwell will be unlocked down there. If it is, I'll run up and unlock this one from the other side."

"That's way too dangerous," said Kaylee.

"Do you have a better idea?" said Coach.

The old lady coughed from the thickening smoke. "Whatever you're going to do, make it quick!"

Kaylee said, "Why can't someone else go?"

"I weigh less than anyone here," said Ryan. "I should be the one who goes."

The others were like a chorus: That's right. Yes, yes. Definitely, Ryan should go.

Kaylee seemed a bit put off by their lack of concern for Ryan's safety, but his mind was made up. "It's just one floor," he said. "It's not like I'm going bungee jumping."

Ryan felt his way through the smoke to the open elevator door and lowered the makeshift rope down the shaft. It was just long enough to reach to the floor below. The coach tied one end around his wrist and braced himself against the wall for leverage. Ryan took the other end in both hands.

"Ready?" asked the coach.

"Ready," said Ryan.

Feet first, Ryan slid past the half-opened elevator door. It was breezy inside the shaft, and darker than he'd expected. Dangling at the end of his rope, swaying side to side, he finally grabbed a cable to steady himself. But he could find nothing to stand on. He was hanging in midair, the rope in one hand, the greasy elevator cable in the other.

"Okay, lower me!" said Ryan.

The coach let out too much rope, too quickly. Ryan plunged several feet and nearly lost his grip. "Slower!" shouted Ryan.

Coach reeled back, and Ryan inched his way down the shaft.

"I'm there!" shouted Ryan.

Coach stopped feeding him rope. Inside the dark shaft, Ryan was suspended before the closed elevator door that served the floor below. It was a typical elevator door that slid from left to right. A vertical strip of light at the far edge told him that lights were burning in the hallway, just on the other side of the door. Ryan quickly formed a plan. It was like the rock climbing wall at a carnival. All he had to do was rappel. He put his feet on the panel and braced his back against the wall. Then he pushed. Slowly, the door started to slide open.

"How's it going, Ryan?" the coach shouted.

"It's going!" he said through clenched teeth..

"I can't hold on too much longer. You're heavier than you think!"

Ryan glanced at the gaping hole below him. It was ten stories, maybe more, straight down. That couldn't be a pleasant way to die. "Just hang on, Coach!"

Ryan pushed one last time with all his leg strength. The door slid open. Ryan swung on the rope like Tarzan on a vine. Then he let go. For a moment, it seemed as if he were flying in slow motion. He could smell the smoke above him. Beyond the opening, he saw the clean, tile floor stretching out before him. Mostly, however, he saw the dark, seemingly bottomless shaft below. He was falling, not flying. He had nowhere near enough liftoff to soar all the way to safety. He was going down the shaft.

"Ryan!" the coach shouted.

Ryan was dropping fast, but the rope was beyond his reach. Thankfully, the elevator door was still open. Somehow, he managed to reach up and grab the very edge of the floor. Ryan was hanging by his fingertips at the threshold. He stayed there just long enough to regain his strength. His elbow was a throbbing reminder of his bicycle accident, but he worked through the pain. His Phys-Ed teacher would have been proud. It was the fastest pull-up in the history of the universe. Ryan shot through the opening and rolled onto the tile floor.

He looked back through the open doorway. All he could say was, "Whoa."

He quickly got his bearings. This floor, one-story below his friends, appeared to have been untouched by the fire. It was definitely the safest way out. He spotted the emergency stairwell near the elevator. He ran to it and turned the door handle. It opened.

"Yesssss!" he said aloud.

He sprinted up the stairwell, gobbling up two and three steps at a time. In no time, he reached the door to the higher floor. He turned the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

Smoke immediately hit him in the face. The fire had reached a new level of intensity. He coughed and said, "Come on, everyone! This is the only way out!"

They came in a rush-Coach, Sling Man, Head Case, and Flu Lady, who was still toting her bucket. "Where's Kaylee?" said Ryan, holding the door.

"Right here." She emerged through the smoke, then gave him a wink and said, "Nice of you to worry."

It made him blush. "I wasn't-oh, never mind. Follow me."

Ryan led them down the stairwell. The smoke followed them. When he reached the bottom, he tugged on the door handle. It wouldn't turn. "It's locked!" said Ryan.

"It must have locked automatically from the other side," said Coach.

The stairwell was sucking in smoke like a chimney. They rushed down another flight of stairs and found another door. "This one's locked, too!" said Kaylee.

"Stand aside," said Coach.

The door was made of metal, but it had glass on the top half. The coach stepped back, then leaped and delivered a martial-arts kick. The glass shattered and fell to the floor. An alarm sounded, but they didn't care. Coach reached through the opening and unlocked the door. It opened, and the six hurried inside.

"We made it!" said Kaylee.

"Stop right there!" a stranger shouted.

Ryan spotted a man at the end of the hallway. He was dressed in what looked to be a spacesuit. The alarm suddenly stopped. Two other men in identical strange suits ran to the broken door. They quickly sealed the opening with heavy tape and thick plastic sheeting.

"Sorry about the door," said Ryan. "We're just trying to get to safety."

"It isn't safe here," the man said. His voice had a mechanical sound. He was speaking through a microphone in the glass helmet that encased his head.

"Please," said Kaylee, "this is the only way out."

The man's tone turned even harsher. "You have no idea how much danger you're in."

"Where are we?" asked Coach.

Ryan's gaze drifted toward the broken glass on the floor. He hadn't noticed earlier, but now he saw the red-painted lettering. The glass was shattered, so it was a bit like a jigsaw puzzle. The jagged shards were just large enough for him to piece together the warning.

It read: INFECTIOUS DISEASE CONTROL CENTER: QUARANTINED.

At that moment, Ryan realized that these men weren't wearing spacesuits. These were hazmat suits. They wore them as protection from contagious diseases.

"Oh, boy," was all Ryan could say.

"You can say that again," the man said through his hazmat helmet.