Had it not been for the apparent distress in the person spreading the news about what was going on, Lydia wouldn’t have given much thought to it. Having lived here and in her New York apartment for so long, alarms like these were raised occasionally. Fire drills were learned and practiced and it was never anything the fire department, or a group of survivors from the hotel, couldn’t handle.
There was no official fire department on the island anymore. Not one that would be effective against a large fire, which was what she was imagining now.
“Second floor,” she answered, leaving the door open so that she could hear what was happening. Once her surprise faded, a calm settled in. Getting frantic wouldn’t help matters. “They’re saying it’s already spread to half the rooms down there. Everyone’s trying to organize a line to get water up to that floor or find extinguishers that still work.”
Lydia paused to consider what to do. She recalled all the times there had been panic in the hotel and how difficult it was to fight through the crowd to get out. “I think we should, just to be safe. They might get it under control, they might not. We’ve got kids. I don’t wanna have to fight through another crowd.”
“The girls have emergency backpacks already packed in the other room. When you grab Lily, can you make sure they’ve got those packs, please? I gotta make sure my brother and sisters didn’t come back to their rooms.” They hadn’t appeared in the hall during the commotion, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in their rooms napping. Lydia let her worry seep in, enough to prompt her to check in the other rooms.