Ryan's room was near the staircase. His throat, already dry and hoarse from the smoke, struggled to get the words out.
"Henry… cough cough…"
Outside the door, Henry suddenly remembered what his mom had once taught him. "No matter how bad things get, don't panic. Even if it feels like the end, you have to hang on. Use everything around you. Find a way to survive."
He paused, then dashed to the small utility room on the third floor. Opening a low cabinet, he found a collection of tools.
Grabbing a hammer, he ran back to Ryan's door and started smashing it.
One hit. Another. Over and over.
He was nearly out of strength when finally—BANG!—the door gave way.
Inside, Ryan was on the floor.
He'd heard the commotion and had tried to pull himself into the wheelchair to unlock the door. But
