Chapter 8: Fire Drill

The fire alarm went off at three in the morning, and Dash was out of bed before he knew he was awake.

The noise was a flat, huge shriek that filled the whole house.

Strobes flashed white in the window.

He grabbed his jeans, shoved his feet into his boots, and turned toward the spare bed.

"Frye. Up. Now."

Wilder lay on his side with his face half in the pillow, one hand under his cheek.

The gray pad under his pillow was buzzing against the mattress, a small angry shiver.

He did not move.

"Wilder!"

Nothing.

Dash crossed the room in two strides, grabbed his shoulder, and shook him hard.

Wilder's eyes opened slowly, unfocused.

"What?" he said, too loud.

"Fire alarm," Dash said. "Get up."

"Mmm," Wilder said.

"Wilder, the house is evacuating."

Wilder blinked, looked at his mouth, and sat up with a start.

He pulled the pad from under the pillow and killed the buzz with his thumb, and for a moment he looked almost frightened.

"How long has it been going?" he asked.

"A minute," Dash said. "Get your shoes."

"I'm fine," Wilder said.

"You were asleep through it."

"I'm a heavy sleeper." Wilder reached for his hair, pushed it flat over his ears, and wouldn't meet his eye. "Let's go."

They ran down three flights of stairs in the crush of the house, a stream of half-dressed students swearing and laughing into the cold.

The alarm was louder in the stairwell.

Dash noticed that Wilder winced and put a hand to his head, then dropped it fast.

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