The smoke banked down rapidly from the drop ceiling, compressing the breathable air into a narrow gap just above the linoleum. Ethan dropped into a low crouch, moving forward in a tactical shuffle. His cane swept tight, controlled arcs across the floor to catch any fallen debris before he stepped on it.
Ahead, the concussive bark rang out again. It was a sharp, directional burst. Thor wasn’t just panicking anymore; he was orienting to Ethan’s presence in the corridor.
Ethan adjusted his vector, letting the sound guide him. The heat radiating from the mechanical room to his left was intense, pressing against the side of his face like an open oven door. He coughed, a harsh, dry hack as the fumes from the burning wire insulation coated his throat.
His cane struck the cinderblock wall. He slid his left hand along the painted surface, moving faster. A few yards down, the texture under his fingers abruptly shifted from smooth block to the heavy gauge wire of the enclosure.
The steel was vibrating violently.
Crash.
Thor slammed his front weight into the gate just inches from Ethan’s hand. The dog let out a frantic, high-pitched vocalization, his claws tearing at the concrete base of the kennel.
“I’m here,” Ethan rasped, his voice shredded by the smoke.
He ran his hand up the chainlink to find the locking mechanism. His bare fingers brushed the steel slide bolt, and he instantly jerked his hand back. The metal frame was conducting the intense ambient heat from the adjacent walls; the latch was blistering hot.
Ethan didn’t waste time trying to force it barehanded. He dropped his cane, shrugged out of his canvas field coat, and wrapped the thick military fabric tightly around his right hand.
He gripped the mechanism through the canvas. The heat bled through the material almost immediately, but it gave him just enough insulation to hold on. He clamped his hand over the heavy slide bolt and pulled.
It didn’t budge. The rapidly rising temperature in the corridor had caused the steel frame to expand, binding the bolt tightly inside its housing.
Smoke filled Ethan’s lungs, forcing another fit of coughing. He planted his boots against the concrete base of the gate for leverage and pulled again, the muscles in his shoulders straining against the seized metal.
“Hit it!” Ethan yelled over the roar of the ventilation system. “Thor, hit it!”
The dog didn’t hesitate. Seventy-five pounds of muscle threw itself forward, striking the center of the gate with a massive, heavy thud. The kinetic force of the impact rattled the expanded steel frame.
Ethan pulled back with his entire body weight. The seized bolt broke free with a sharp, metallic screech and slid open.
Ethan yanked the handle, and the heavy gate swung wide.