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tries the door leading to the Graphic Arts Gallery.
    “I smell something too. Irina,
wait…” Mark shouts.
    Irina doesn’t listen and opens the
door. A blast of heat and flame shoots into the hallway. She screams and falls
to the floor as fire devours her. An aftershock ripples through the building
and they’re showered with dust, plaster and bits of mosaic. Mark runs across
the marble and reaches for her burning mass.
    Michael grabs Mark before he
reaches Irina and drags the grieving man towards the stairway leading to the Capitol Building tunnel.
    “You can’t help her! The fire is
spreading!” Michael yells.
    Rebecca holds open the heavy
emergency door and slams it closed behind them. Mark slumps to the floor and
stares blindly at the tiles. Michael gathers Rebecca snugly in his arms and
closes his eyes.
    “Let’s go,” Mark says after a
moment. His voice is low, rough and full of resolve.
     

 
     

    11
     
     
    L arry slumps against the tunnel wall and pulls out a
small flask of whiskey. Its artificial heat hits the spot. The Asian kid stands
wide-eyed and mute next to him. A thin pole holding a blue identifier flag
sticks out of the backpack. It shakes as the kid shakes. Larry rips the pole
from the backpack.
    “Ni zai zuo shenme?” the boy asks.
    “Don’t get you’re panties in a
bunch kid, it’s just a stupid flag. I found you.”
    “Buyao peng wo! Zhu!” the kid
shrills and grabs the broken flag from the floor.
    “Oh shut up, you’re giving me a
headache.”
    “Ni wen qilai qilai xiang yige he
zuijiu de shu.”
    Pixel, sitting obediently at
Larry’s side, whines as the kid drops the flag. Larry doesn’t acknowledge the
dog or meet the kid’s eyes but takes a second drink. The whiskey moves through
his system with comforting warmth.
    “Wo xiang hui hia?”
    “Are you Japanese or Chinese?”
    “Zhongguo ren! Err, Chinese.”
    “What’s your name?”
    The boy looks at him mutely.
    “Are you in shock? Tell me your
name.”
    Larry grabs the kid’s backpack and
finds a passport. The name is too long to read or pronounce. The boy points to
the passport photo and then to his own chest.
    “How about I call you Chuang for
short?” 
    Chuang nods.
    “Good. Let’s go.”
    Larry gives the backpack and
passport to Chuang.
    They walk down the tunnel and turn
a corner. He startles at the sight of a nicely dressed woman leaning against
the wall. Her shoulders shake and a thick fall of shiny sable hair obscures her
features.
    “Are you alright, ma’am?”
    The woman doesn’t answer.
    “Ma’am, I’m a police officer. Can
you please respond?”
    The continued silence unnerves him
and his hand twitches over his gun. She raises her head and fixes him with
red-rimmed, bright blue eyes. Pixel gives her a comforting lick across her
cheek. She pets the dog’s thick fur and smiles.
    “You’re a bobby?” Her cool English
accent licks over his ears like velvet.
    “A bobby, ma’am? No, I’m a cop.
Larry Anderson, D.C. Metro Police.”
    “Yes, that’s what I mean, a police
officer. We call you Bobbies back home.”
    A low rumble shakes the tunnel.
    “Ma’am, you should come with us.”
    “I suppose so. Help me up?”
    Her small, smooth hand slips
perfectly into his as he helps her to her feet.
    “Thank you. I’m Dr. Mary Kinlan.”
    The slapping of shoes resonates
through the tunnel. Pixel gives a sharp bark. An African American man followed
by a Caucasian couple hurry towards them.
    “Is there a way out ahead?” Mark
gasps. “Mary!”
    Rebecca rushes around Mark and
impulsively hugs the British fellow.
    “Mary, you’re ok! How did you end
up down here?” Rebecca gushes.
    The two women cling to each other.
    “I don’t know. I just ran...” Mary
says.
    Larry looks nervously at the
ceiling as several tiles crash to the floor further down the hallway.
    “Who are you people?” Larry asks.
    “I’m Michael. This is my wife,
Rebecca. That’s Mark and you’ve already met