avid Becker felt as if his face had been doused in turpentineand ignited. He rolled over on the floor and squinted throughbleary tunnel vision at the girl halfway to the revolving doors.She was running in short, terrified bursts, dragging her duffelbehind her across the tile. Becker tried to pull himself to hisfeet, but he could not. He was blinded by red-hot fire. Shecan't get away!

He tried to call out, but there was no air in his lungs, only asickening pain. "No!" He coughed. The sound barely lefthis lips.

Becker knew the second she went through the door, she woulddisappear forever. He tried to call out again, but his throat wassearing.

The girl had almost reached the revolving door. Becker staggeredto his feet, gasping for breath. He stumbled after her. The girldashed into the first compartment of the revolving door, draggingher duffel behind her. Twenty yards back, Becker was staggeringblindly toward the door.

"Wait!" He gasped. "Wait!"

The girl pushed furiously on the inside of the door. The doorbegan to rotate, but then it jammed. The blonde wheeled in terrorand saw her duffel snagged in the opening. She knelt and pulledfuriously to free it.

Becker fixed his bleary vision on the fabric protruding throughthe door. As he dove, the red corner of nylon protruding from thecrack was all he could see. He flew toward it, armsoutstretched.

As David Becker fell toward the door, his hands only inchesaway, the fabric slipped into the crack and disappeared. Hisfingers clutched empty air as the door lurched into motion. Thegirl and the duffel tumbled into the street outside.

"Megan!" Becker wailed as hit the floor. White-hotneedles shot through the back of his eye sockets. His visiontunneled to nothing, and a new wave of nausea rolled in. His ownvoice echoed in the blackness. Megan!

David Becker wasn't sure how long he'd been lyingthere before he became aware of the hum of fluorescent bulbsoverhead. Everything else was still. Through the silence came avoice. Someone was calling. He tried to lift his head off thefloor. The world was cockeyed, watery. Again the voice. Hesquinted down the concourse and saw a figure twenty yards away.

"Mister?"

Becker recognized the voice. It was the girl. She was standingat another entrance farther down the concourse, clutching herduffel to her chest. She looked more frightened now than she hadbefore.

"Mister?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Inever told you my name. How come you know my name?"