Wunderkind

1.03-Awl

SOMALIAN INTERNATIONAL AID CLINIC

IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ON FIRE

Of all the ways I've nearly died in the past fifteen years, this doesn't even really make the list of top three worst. It might be in the top ten though.

"There are a lotta things on my bucket list," Jack yells over the roar of flames. "Seein' a Metallica concert live, finishing the Harry Potter books, goin' on a real old-fashioned cattle drive from the family ranch, fighting with Vladimir Putin in space..."

Riley cuts him off over comms. "Putin? In space? How would that even..."

"It's a bucket list! It doesn't have to make sense, Ri."

"Actually," Mac can't resist pointing out, "it kinda does have to make sense."

"Not my point!" Jack yells back. "The point is, none of those include hanging out in a burning building that you set on fire!"

"Well I'm sorry I didn't have time to think of a better plan! Maybe I would have if you hadn't decided to barge into a Somalian warlord's camp like an elephant and let them all know we were coming! At least this got them off our tail!"

"Yeah, because they know we're gonna die and they're not gonna waste bullets!"

It's getting hotter and harder to breathe. Burning debris is falling, and Mac can feel it singeing his clothes and stinging on his skin. He tugs his t-shirt over his face, trying to avoid breathing some of the smoke. Most fire deaths aren't from burns, they're from smoke inhalation.

"Jack," he gasps out, "Cover your face and bend over as much as you can." Jack nods. That helps a little, but it's not going to do them any good if they can't find an exit.

"Patty, did you get the coordinates we sent?" Jack asks. I sure hope so, because if not this was officially the most unproductive risk we've ever taken.

Thornton's crisp voice comes over the comms. "We're targeting a drone strike. General Dolmar's chemical weapons factory is about to be history."

"Riley, is there a way outta here?" Jack asks, between coughs.

"Just hacked that aid organization's database and got the blueprints. Stairwell up ahead!" Riley says. Mac sees it, and just as quickly sees the three oxygen tanks stacked inside.

"Jack! Get back!" he yells, and drags them both around a corner just as the entire stairwell explodes. His ears are ringing and aching, and he's pretty sure there are going to be some burns on the back of one leg, but they're both still alive. Although they won't be for much longer unless they have a plan B.

"Was that stairwell our only way out?" he asks.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" Riley asks.

"I think it would be quicker to explain what's not wrong with it," Jack mutters. He and Mac are now looking down at the twisted hunk of metal that used to be stairs, and the glare he's giving Mac means he definitely blames him for this. Although I think it would be a first if Jack wasn't blaming me for something that went wrong.

"What did you do?" Riley asks.

"Why do you always assume it's my fault when something blows up?" Mac grumbles.

"Because it usually is, genius," Jack says.

Mac can hear Riley typing. "So I think I found you an alternative. Windows, behind you, down the hallway to the left about fifty feet. Except there's a catch."

Mac glances down. Oh hell no. The world spins a little and Mac steps back because his knees are shaking and he thinks he might fall. We're four stories off the ground.