Page 70

“Hurry,” coughed Jamal, helping him.
Another sob, louder this time. A small hand reached up through a gap in the debris.
“It’s a child,” spluttered Tom, throwing debris out the way to get to the boy.
Jamal dislodged the last few tiles and they stared down at a small, tear-stained face. He must have been about ten or eleven, with scorched eyebrows and hair, and bleeding from a gash at his temple. But he was alive.
Tom scooped him up in his arms. It was hard to see through the dense smoke. “Which way?” he choked.
Jamal grabbed his arm and led them back into the room they’d come from. The smoke was less thick in here, but all three of them were coughing now. The boy seemed to be lapsing in and out of consciousness.
Tom carried him to the window. Jamal leaped out and Tom handed the child over, before climbing out himself. They stumbled away from the billowing building, gasping and coughing to clear their lungs.
“Thank God,” Hannah said, as he collapsed beside her. Jamal laid the boy carefully on the ground. “Is he okay?”
“I think so.” Tom gulped down lungfuls of fresh air. He could still taste the acrid smoke in his mouth. Jamal was doing the same, leaning back against the barricade, his eyes shut.
Hannah inspected the boy. “He’s breathing.”
His eyes fluttered and he coughed, gasping as he fought for breath. Hannah stroked his back. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
The man who’d run towards the blaze earlier rushed over. His wayward curly hair was held back by a red bandana, his brow furrowed in concern.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, bowing profusely and pumping Tom and Jamal’s hands over and over again. “You saved Hamez’s life. My sister will be extremely grateful, as will my father.”
“Your father is fighting up ahead, is that right?” asked Tom.
“He’s leading the defense,” the young man said proudly.
Tom gave a curt nod. “Then, I look forward to meeting him in person.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jamal said. “You’re going to need backup and I want to talk with Abu-al-Rashid.”
Tom gave a quick nod. Jamal didn’t say what about, but he guessed it involved their defenses and their plan to fight back.
Jamal went over to talk to his men. It looked like he was issuing instructions in his absence. When he came back, he said, “Let’s head for the buildings on the northern side of the block.”
Tom consulted his map, which he had folded so that he could see where they were without having to open it all the way up each time. Unlike Hannah, he didn’t have a visual in his head. “The warehouse?”
Jamal nodded. “Yeah, if we get separated, we can regroup there.”
“Gotcha.”
Hannah glanced up. “We’re moving out?”
“Yeah, you ready?”
She nodded but Tom sensed her reluctance. He didn’t blame her. It went against every human instinct to run into danger. He’d been trained to do it, while Jamal and his men had gotten used to it, but it sure as hell wasn’t natural.
He reached down and pulled her to her feet.
Jamal unclipped his rifle, checked the magazine, and made sure it was cocked and locked. Barrel pointing forward, he nosed out from behind the wall.
“Clear!”
He sprinted around a small apartment block and disappeared into the dim interior of what looked like an abandoned school.
Tom nodded at Hannah. “Your turn.”