Son Of The Sheikh. Ryshia Kennie
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There was chaos in the haze, as people began to run for the exit. They pushed through the crowded area where others stood, stunned. She could see that the window that faced the parking lot had been blown out. A bomb, she thought with shock, and then realized that it was an outrageous idea.
It was seconds before the reality of what had just happened seemed to hit her full-force. They needed to get out of here. Who knew what might follow. There could be another explosion, a larger fire. The situation was unpredictable and dangerous. She’d wasted precious seconds. Her son was in her arms, but her important documents were in the bag caught on the counter. She wasn’t frightened enough to leave the bag behind, at least not yet. For without their passports and travel documents...she couldn’t think of it. But she also couldn’t hold her son any longer and continue to juggle her bags. She put Everett back down on the counter. His hands immediately went over his ears as he sniffled, but didn’t start crying.
A woman jostled Sara and when the fire alarm began to bleat it was somehow unexpected and she let out a small involuntary scream. Everett immediately followed her example, as he always did, his soother now clutched in his chubby fist.
Darn it, she thought. But she couldn’t have bit back her reaction, it was as involuntary as every other shriek that had run through the room.
“It’s all right,” Sara said quickly, not knowing how all right it might be. She held him in place with one hand while with the other she tried to free the caught bag. Her purse banged against her hip as Everett began to wail.
A short, thick woman pushed past her, herding a trio of children, knocked her elbow and threw her completely off balance. She staggered against the counter and noticed, while not really acknowledging, that all the staff had now vacated their posts.
A snowy-haired man with a pleasant expression and eyes that crinkled with concern approached her. “Here, let me help you.” He reached for Everett. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said to her son.
Everett stopped crying long enough to look at the man and held his tiny arms out.
“No!” The word was sharper, louder and fiercer than she intended.
She guessed that he didn’t mean any harm. Still, despite everything, she wasn’t taking any chances. The thoughts ran rapidly through her mind and she considered the possibility that he might really just want to help. The offer seemed suspect, but he was from a generation where helping someone with their child was natural. The simple kindness did not place you immediately in a lineup as a suspect to potential kidnapping, as it did today.
He looked at her and moved to her other side. “I’m sorry. You just looked like you had your hands full.” He reached over and unhooked her bag. “That should help.”
She looked at him sheepishly. “Thank you,” she said as the man nodded and moved on. And she was thankful in more ways than one, for despite the noise and confusion, Everett had stopped crying.
She lifted her son, who, at thirty-two pounds, was a good size for a two-year-old. Normally she had a stroller, but that was somewhere with the luggage, what might be left of it. She had no choice but to carry him.
“It’ll be all right,” she whispered to him and wasn’t sure if that helped. She was just glad he hadn’t let out a howl of outrage. Instead, his arms were around her in a death grip and he was sucking his soother again. If her arms stopped shaking she’d be all right. But the man was right about one thing—they needed to get out of here. The smoke was swirling through the lobby, making it almost impossible to see to the other side, where their luggage was, or to her left, where the exit was.
She moved forward. She meant to follow the crowd to the exit, when the stairwell door opened and people streamed out as they began to come down from the upper floors. The hotel lobby was suddenly not just busy but congested to the point that no one could move. Everett twisted in her arms, trying to get down, and with her arms still shaking, his squirming made him difficult to hold. The soother was gone. It must have dropped. She looked down but there was nothing but smoke and chaos. He began to cry, she imagined more from frustration than fright.
“No, sweetie. You can walk once we’re outside.” She tightened her grip as his cries threatened to match the noise of the fire alarm.
“Ma’am,” the concierge said, taking her by the elbow. “You’ve got to leave now. Get the little one out of here.”
“Yes,” she agreed as she fumbled, the pull on her elbow the final straw to her already shaky grip that was weakening the more Everett squirmed.
“Mama!” he yelled.
“We’re going, Ev. We’re going.” But she wasn’t so sure as Everett twisted again and slid halfway down her chest.
The concierge had already moved on, unaware that his actions had loosened her hold on her son. She struggled to get a better grip on him, but he was slipping further. It was all made worse by the crowd as they jostled them this way and that. Someone knocked her left side and this time she lost her grip. She didn’t have any choice but to either drop Everett, or set him down.
She placed him on the ground, her hand on his shoulder as she stood up. But the split second between that and when she reached down to take his hand found her fishing for air. She looked down. In the space of a second he had disappeared. There was nothing but a sea of people amidst the chaos of noise and smoke. Her heart raced.
A woman screamed.
To her right, in a thick cloud of smoke, something tipped and crashed to the floor. There was another scream. This time she realized that it was her. Panic threatened to engulf her. She couldn’t let it. She had to find Everett.
Through a break in the smoke, she could see that the flames were licking one corner of the wall behind where the suitcase trolley had been standing. Shock raced through her at the fire and at the thought that everything she had brought was more than likely about to be, or already was, destroyed. But the thought was fleeting, for none of that mattered. She had to find Everett.
A man with a hotel employee jacket rushed forward with a fire extinguisher. He blasted the flames that were eating up the wall. Another employee attacked the flames that were threatening one suitcase with a dripping wet towel. But his attempts only caused the fire to move from one area to another. Clothes were strewn around the luggage rack. It was obviously an explosive device of some type, at least that’s what her suspicious and slightly hyperactive mind thought. It was a strange thought, considering the panic that was filling her every second that went by. Instead, she saw trivial details like that. Details that meant nothing when the entire hotel could go up in flames at any moment and her son was nowhere in sight.
“Everett!” she screamed.
To her right she distinctly heard a woman’s unpleasant voice tell her to shut up. She swung around. She was facing the opposite way that the crowd was moving. She’d been oblivious to the danger to herself, or the obstruction she was to others. It was like she faced the enemy alone, as the crowd seemed to act like one beast racing for the main exit.
She looked down, as if expecting to see Everett right there, right at her