Eric awoke to the acrid sting of smoke.
"Cough, cough! Is there a fire?" She choked as she sat up, her vision shrouded in darkness. Instinctively, she reached for the bedside lamp, fumbling several times before finding the switch.
*Click!*
The light flickered on, and in an instant, Eric realized something was terribly wrong. This wasn't her bedroom.
The room was small, its layout plain and unremarkable. To the left stood a door, flanked by a shoe cabinet on one side and a bathroom on the other. She lay on a bed, facing a small television. The decor was unmistakably that of a hotel. Thick smoke seeped in from beneath the door, filling the room within seconds and blurring her vision.
"Cough, cough!" Eric scrambled off the bed and rushed to the door. She grabbed the handle and twisted, but it wouldn't budge. The proximity to the smoke source made her cough even more violently.
She darted to the bathroom, yanking a towel from the rack and turning on the faucet. After soaking the towel, she pressed it to her nose and mouth, finally finding some relief.
This wasn't right. She had to get out, and fast.
Clutching the towel, Eric tried the door again. This time, she spotted a key on the nearby shoe cabinet. Inserting it into the lock, she managed to open the door.
What greeted her was a scene of utter despair. The hallway outside was engulfed in flames, a fiery inferno stretching as far as she could see. The opposite door opened, revealing a panicked face. A sudden explosion sent the flames roaring higher, the heat and smoke slamming into Eric, singeing her hair and eyebrows.
Without hesitation, she slammed the door shut and returned to the bathroom, soaking a bath towel to block the gap beneath the door. The smoke was temporarily held at bay, but the door and handle were now scalding to the touch.
Escape through the hallway was clearly impossible. Eric rushed to the room's only window, but it was sealed shut. She pounded on the glass—it was unyielding.
After a quick assessment, she tied the towel around her face and dragged the old wooden bedside table to the window.
*Bang, bang, bang!*
She heaved the table against the glass, focusing on one spot until it finally cracked. Encouraged, she redoubled her efforts.
*Boom!*
Another explosion shook the hallway. Eric glanced back to see the wooden door ablaze, smoke billowing in. She heard desperate cries for help.
Time was running out. She tossed the table aside and climbed onto the windowsill.
Her heart sank. She was on the ninth floor. Peering around, she saw other rooms in the hotel were also on fire. People leaned out of windows, and someone on the second floor jumped, scrambling to their feet and fleeing.
How she envied them!
Feeling the cruel hand of fate, Eric jumped back into the room and tore the bedsheet into strips, tying them together to form a makeshift rope. She secured it to the bed and dragged the bed to the window. The room was now thick with smoke, flames licking at the bed. Her eyes burned, and the damp towel over her face was drying in the heat.
There was no time to waste. She tossed the rope out and began her descent.
Below, someone was smashing a window, crying out for help. Eric shook her head—she could barely save herself. After a brief pause on a lower windowsill, she continued downward, the warm exterior wall scorching her hands. She had no climbing experience, but she clung to the rope, her palms raw from the friction. The sheet was too short, and after descending two floors, she knew it wouldn't hold. She untied the rope from her waist and added her towel, barely making it to the sixth floor. She paused outside a window, unsure if the room was empty or its occupant unconscious.
Others dangled from sheets on the building's facade, those on lower floors escaping quickly, while those higher up faced the same dilemma.
If everyone below had used their ropes, she might have been able to descend floor by floor. But that was wishful thinking. The grim reality was clear—how would she get down? The crowd below grew, and Eric spotted splashes of red. She didn't dare think about what they were.
"Hurry! Keep climbing!" voices shouted from below.
Eric took a deep breath and eyed a long sheet rope two windows to the left, unoccupied. She didn't have time to wonder if its owner had escaped or perished—she had to reach it.
She swung toward it, stretching her arm, but with no foothold, she slipped and swung back.
*Crash!*
Glass shattered, including the window in front of her. Shards of hot, sharp glass cut into her face. Flames licked at her, and she felt her clothes catch fire. She pressed against the wall to smother the flames. Above, the rope from the eighth floor was burning, moments from breaking.
She glanced down, gritted her teeth, and let go, plummeting as the crowd below gasped.
"Oh no, another one's falling!"
"She's done for!"
Seconds later, Eric's gamble paid off. She caught a sheet rope from the fourth floor, slamming into the wall with a grunt of pain.
The rope was taut and on fire. She scrambled down, but it snapped at the second floor. She adjusted her fall and hit the ground with a thud, pain searing through her body.
"Are you okay?" a woman's voice called as she cradled Eric.
"You made it! You're alive!" the woman exclaimed.
"Cough, cough!" Eric spat blood, alarming the woman.
"It's fine. Help me sit up, please," Eric said, her eyes fixed on the burning hotel.
The building was a raging inferno, flames and smoke pouring from the windows. People on the facade continued to fall. Eric watched as someone on the ninth floor wept before jumping to their death.
The sky above was gray and ominous, the entire scene surreal.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're bleeding," the woman fretted.
Strangers brought together by shared peril, Eric reassured her. "I'm fine. Do you know how we ended up here?"
The woman shook her head. "I woke up in a room. Thankfully, I was on the first floor and could break the window to escape." Suddenly, her face paled. "Wait… I remember… I died. I was in a car accident—a huge truck—"
She stared at Eric in horror.
Eric sighed in relief. At least she wasn't alone. "Don't worry. I'm dead too. We're the same."
The woman gaped. "You… you're dead?"
"Yes. Cancer. Completely gone," Eric said, wiping blood from her mouth. She was used to it from her illness.
Around them, dozens of people stood or sat, murmuring among themselves. Many shared the same realization—they were all dead.
So what was this burning hotel? Some new form of cremation?
The woman forced a laugh. "I'm Natalie, by the way. And you?"
"Eric. "
Natalie chuckled. "That's an interesting name. Do you like ginger?"
"I'm allergic to it."
"…" Natalie quickly changed the subject. "I'll go ask around for more information."