Call Me Rumpel

Chapter Twenty-six

My hand trembles as I take out my phone. There's a text from William, telling me he can't make it, but I barely get to the end of it before the screen blacks out. Of course it does. I can blame Rumpel for this, too, since I'd wasted my battery debating whether I should risk trying the password or not.

I slip it back into my pocket and pound on the door. The shadow reappears, but no one answers my cries.

"Quinn, I could use help."

I turn around to assess how much the fire has spread, hoping the bales are inside because they're still drying out from winter, and if so, maybe it's not too late to stamp it out. The fire has petered out, which is great because it doesn't seem like Quinn is in any shape to get low to the ground where the air will be cleanest.

They're rocking again, gripping the handles of their chair so tightly I see the bones of their fingers. I walk over, confirming the trembling of their body isn't a mere trick of the smoke.

"Quinn?"

"Not again. Not again," they whisper.

They don't seem to see or hear me. I kneel in front of their chair, the irritation and urgency in my voice gone. "Quinn? What do you mean, 'not again?'"

They shake their head, staring at something beyond my shoulder. I look, but only the door stares back at me.

"Quinn?"

"Car. Not again."

I suck in a breath. I'd only heard bits and pieces about what happened to Quinn during the accident. They'd been trapped inside the car, semi-conscious, listening to the panicked voices of workers as they rushed to free them before the smoking engine burst into flames.

I can't imagine how terrifying that would've been. Even now, with my heart thundering in my chest, my hope to survive hasn't completely been quelled.

Which is why I resist the urge to slap or shake them—something I realise would be the opposite of helpful and downright cruel—and gently grip Quinn's shoulders. I force them to look at me, searching for clarity in their eyes.

"Quinn. We can get out of here. We can."

"We can." They blink, turning to the hay bales, where the smoke is rising again. "We can."

Then, pushing my hands off them, they wheel towards the door and tug on it. I roll my eyes and jog over to help. I peer through the crack just as someone's fingers grip it, nearly poking out my eyes.

"We're in here!" Quinn shouts, seeing them. "There's a fire!"

"What?"

"There's a—"

The fingers disappear and with a loud squeak, the handle turns. Bright sunlight streams in, blinding me, but I rush towards it, as does Quinn. The smoke isn't so bad that we need to cough and carry on, yet both of us are drawing in deep breaths. Someone rushes past, then comes back, then goes back in.

My head spins, my knees wobble, and I suddenly feel like kissing the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an ashen-looking Sanket hugging Quinn before I focus on the figures in front of me.

Tui is wringing her hands together whilst Aroha is gripping her forearm. At first, I think she's digging her nails in, but when my head clears enough, I realise it's supposed to be a gesture of comfort.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry,' Tui signs, tears pooling in her eyes.

It's strange she's saying it to me, but then Aroha elaborates. "Tui walked past a few minutes ago but didn't know you were inside. It was only when Sean came and got her, saying the door was locked and he could hear you yelling, that she came back outside."