“Oh God.” Will had turned into a broken record. And a bloody annoying one, at that. Presumably, the foot-stamping was a nervous tic, but it was a poor idea in a structurally unsound space. It was seriously beyond him what Lainie had ever seen in the guy in the first place. “Oh God, we’re trapped. Nobody knows we’re down here.”
Richard gave him a shove to get him moving. “First of all, everybody knows we’re down here. You haven’t left a room quietly since you passed out drunk at the wrap party for Fields of Justice in 2010. Watch your head.”
Will turned and grabbed his arm, his fingers biting into Richard’s wrist. “Do you think this is funny, you arsehole?”
“I don’t get my kicks from having you rub up against me in the dark, no. Would you back the fuck off? We’re not that short on space.”
“We’re fucking buried alive. How the fuck do you think we’ll get out of here? The whole thing could come crashing down.” He was almost hyperventilating. “Jesus. I’m going to die with you. What a fucking joke.”
“Or we could just keep moving down into the completely intact south hallway and use the old fire escape.”
Silence.
“Oh.” After a pause, Will said lamely, “I’ve hurt my leg.”
“Is it broken?”
“No.”
“Then if you think I’m carrying you, you’re mistaken.”
In the end, he did have to get far too close for comfort. Will was dragging his leg and their pace was too slow. Dust and debris was falling far more rapidly now. Richard pulled Will’s arm over his shoulder and took the brunt of his weight.
“Just move,” he gritted out, ignoring the whinging protests that ensued. His nerves were a taut wire, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
“But—”
“Shut up.”
His muscles were burning when they finally crossed the boundary into relative safety, the adrenaline firing off electrical impulses that made him twitch and jump like water on hot steel. The defunct fire escape had been boarded over. Richard leaned against the wall to catch his breath. It felt reassuringly solid against his back.
“You knew the way was clear.” Will suddenly looked up from his half crouch on the floor. He seemed to have regained some of his wits, which was fortunate. He didn’t have many to spare. His expression was odd. “You must have—You were already out.”
Richard closed his eyes on a wave of exhaustion.
“Did you actually come back for me?”
“Farmer. Seriously. Just shut up.” Gathering the last of his strength, he started to pull at the boards. He was banking on the wood and nails being as decrepit as the rest of the Metronome. One piece broke away and he tossed it aside.
Will belatedly got up to help. As they worked side by side, in cooperation for probably the last time, he spoke without looking at Richard. “She didn’t love me, you know.”
Richard clenched his teeth. He viciously yanked down another board.
“I hurt her, and I’m sorry. But she didn’t love me.” Will’s lips were a thin line. “I can see the way she looks at you.” He threw down a jagged scrap of wood. “Just—start looking back.”
Richard turned his head. Will’s face was etched with a mixture of annoyance and resignation.
“It’s all there. Just look at her.”
*
It took fifteen minutes for someone to remember the existence of the old fire escape. Their overall disaster response had been a bit of a fail. If the show must go on, Bennett would probably start doing fire and earthquake drills, which might not be a bad idea.
The entire company was in panic mode, and for some people it was a slight anticlimax when the tragic victims suddenly ambled out from the side alley. Will was hobbling on one foot, propped up between the two firemen who had found them breaking down the boarded-up door. Richard was also limping, but walked without assistance. There was a small smear of blood on his forehead. Both men were filthy and dishevelled. Otherwise, they looked fine.
Lainie’s knees almost gave out.
Through jostling crowds and swimming vision, she met Richard’s gaze, and saw the intensity of his relief. Silently, they stared across the chaos at one another.
Then he had the barefaced nerve to wink at her, picking a really bad time to become flirty, and avoided a punch on the nose only through distance.
They were taken away in an ambulance while she was still stuck behind the police barrier. Chloe drove her to the hospital in her red vintage Morris. She felt sick in the car and impatient with the delays. They were stuck in traffic for almost forty-five minutes. Her hands shook as they circled the block over and over again, trying to find a parking space. She wished she could just pull an I Dream of Jeannie and blink straight to Richard’s side.
They bumped into Margaret in the hospital foyer.
“Everyone’s fine,” she told them, relief heavy in her voice. “All safe and accounted for. We were worried about Sally, one of the interns, but they found her on Tottenham Court Road. Thirty percent off American-brand makeup at Space NK,” she added sardonically. “And Bob’s on form. He’s already contacted our lawyers about litigation.” She squeezed Lainie’s arm. “Richard and Will are okay. Minor bumps and bruises.”