Sam's feet starting working before his brain did, and he took off running across the street, narrowly avoiding being crushed by a speeding taxi.
But he didn't care. All he needed was to get to Andy. No matter the cost. He had to hold her in his arms and kiss her face and reassure himself that she was okay.
He couldn't lose her, not after he had just gained her for the rest of their lives.
On the sidewalk just in front of the hotel, it was almost impossible to see through the thick smoke and it was hard to breathe. But Sam pushed on, through the mob of people that were pushing out of the hotel.
Sam knew if he didn't get in there now there was no way he was going to be able to get in once the cops and ambulances arrived and turned it into a crime scene.
He was also aware that what he was doing was extremely dangerous and probably really stupid. The odds that Andy was still inside were probably slim considering she was a smart girl and probably knew to get out.
But his wife might be in there, and he wasn't giving up without a fight.
Plus, he knew Andy and she would most likely make numerous stops on her way out to help any of the people inside that might not make it out.
Sam pushed through the people until he made it into a clearing and he tried to breathe. He didn't do well in crowded spaces. But when he tried to suck in air, he immediately coughed it back out. The air in here was tainted and no good, but it would have to do.
Sam's mind was churning and for a second, he couldn't recall what floor his and Andy's room was on.
He counted to three, trying to clear his head and there it was: Second Floor, Room 122.
Figuring the elevators weren't working; Sam found the nearest set of employee stairs and raced up them two at a time, dodging people.
No one paid him much attention' they were too intent on saving themselves out of the burning and collapsing building. No one stopped him or even glanced his way.
Sam barely heard the cacophony of noise that was permeating from every direction; people's high pitched screams, fire alarms from the ceiling, the pounding of a stampede of people trying to escape. But Sam was too focused to care.
Andy, Andy, Andy.
His mind was on a loop, replaying only that one word in his head. He needed to get to her. She needed him; he could feel it.
"Hold on, baby, I'm coming," Sam said to himself, barely audible above the rest of the noise.
He was nearing the second floor, but still he did not let up. He kept running full force in the direction of their room.
It was like a nightmare; the faster he tried to go, the more leaden his legs felt and time seemed to be slipping away.
Sam pushed through the employee door and burst onto the second floor.
He felt an inferno of heat exploding from his left and he turned and looked to see a huge wall of fire.
He spun on his heel, thanking his lucky stars that his and Andy's room was on the opposite end of the hall.
Sam fumbled around in his pocket, searching for his room key, but soon saw he wouldn't need it.
On this end of the hallway, most of the doors were blown of their hinges and the floor was in delicate condition; there were holes everywhere.
Sam was forced to slow to a crawl, his intent not to fall through the floor.
There were no people around here; most had already hopefully escaped. Either that or they were dead.
Sam shook his head, refusing to let his mind take that kind of turn. Andy was fine. She was already outside, helping others get to paramedics and being the kind person and cop she was trained to be.
But he still had this nagging feeling that he had to get back to the room and check it out. Just in case.
Sam kept his gaze focused dead ahead, refusing to look in or at any of the other rooms. He didn't want to see.
He tiptoed around some of the larger sized holes in the floor and finally arrived in front of Room 122, breathless and choking on smoke, eyes burning.
He looked up and saw that the room was barely even a room anymore.
He could barely squeeze through what used to be the doorway for there was so much debris blocking the way. But he forced his way in, flinging his hands over his head to avoid getting knocked unconscious by any unloosed rubble.
"Andy!" Sam called out. "Andy, you in here?" He kept trying to raise his voice for her to hear, but he had to stop and bend over to cough up what seemed like his lungs. Every breath he took burned his airway, but still he would not let up.
"Andy! McNally, talk to me!"
Could it have only been an hour or so ago that he had left her this morning to go get breakfast. It seemed like centuries.
It was then that he turned and saw a delicate pale hand, peeking out from under a huge piece of rubble, palm down.
Sam couldn't help but sink to his knees in despair.
So what do you think? Could she have survived?