Trace lay curled on the floor. Pursued by a roar of sound, she had fled through endless corridors to this last refuge. But the fire had found her. This small room where she had taken shelter was already blanketed with heat. And outside the door, flames snapped hungrily at walls and ceilings. Not far off, someone still battled this inferno. Trace had caught and sorted the fleeting thought. Check down there for survivors. She had opened her mouth to call out, "Here. I'm here." But her cry strangled in her throat. Smoke filled her lungs. She gasped. She pressed her arms across her nose and mouth. With short ragged breaths, she tried to find air, but there was only smoke, acrid burning smoke.

I'm here. Behind this door. I'm here. Her thoughts burned within her as hot as the fire itself. This door. Check this door. But her plea echoed only in her head. And soundless, it died there. And Trace knew soon she would die too.