Code Red

You would think they would tell us. There was no warning. I was in the hall saying goodbye to Kathy LeClair and all the doors locked down. Slammed like some Harry Potter spell. The air seemed to go out of the place. I hadn't realized how much light came through the corridor doors until they were shut. Strobe lights started flashing. A nurse told me to go into my room and shut the door. All the doors in the hall to all the rooms were shut. I know because I peeked out. "Code Red, floor 2, floor 3," the intercom repeated. A few minuets later, "Code Red, floor 2, floor 3, floor 4." The announcement told me the fire was getting closer to floor seven. I could hear siren outside. I picked up my bible and cell phone and was about to go out the end of the hall exit doors when a nurse came by. "I can walk out of here. I don't want to burn in my room. Tell me what is going on." "It's a drill," he said.