Jo Treggiari - Ashes, Ashes

“There were sleeping pills in the coffee,” she said. “If you walk around a little you’ll feel better.”

He took a deep breath, and cautiously probed his ribs. Lucy didn’t miss the grimace that flickered across his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him again quietly.

With a brief nod, Aidan stood up. “That guy, Simmons, taped me up pretty good.” He frowned. “It’s weird. I mean, are they bad guys or good guys or what?”

“I vote bad,” Lucy said. She brought his boots to him, pushed his fumbling hands away when he tried to lace them, and did it herself. While she was pulling them tight, Sammy brought him up to speed.

“Del came back?” Aidan asked, his face serious. Lucy couldn’t read his expression.

“She’s getting the other kids out,” Sammy said. “Two floors down. Emi and Jack.”

The kids who’d been taken in the first raid, Lucy remembered.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The plan?” asked Sammy. He rubbed his chin. “To get out of here as fast as possible. Meet up if we can. We didn’t have much time to come up with anything.” He grinned. “This seems to be working pretty well so far.”

“Weapons?”

“I’ve got my broken knife,” Lucy said. “Sammy’s got a billhook. And a hammer.”

Aidan’s green eyes opened wide. He looked more awake. His lip curled. “A hammer?”

“It’s heavy. It’s blunt. It’s all we’ve got,” Lucy said. She went to the door, put her ear against it, and listened.

Aidan made a face.

“Well, where’s your bow, your slingshot?” Sammy asked him.

“They must have taken them.”

“So a hammer doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore, then, does it?”

“Not if we meet a loose nail or a hanging shutter.”

“Stop bickering and get over here,” Lucy hissed. “Sammy, give Aidan the hammer.”

She flicked the light switch off and eased the door open. The foyer was empty.

“Quickest way out?” Aidan whispered.

“Side door?” Sammy said with a shrug. “That’s how Del and I got in.”

“Us, too.”

“Four floors down,” Lucy said.

“Guards?”

She shrugged.

“Likely, then.”

She gripped her knife. “Quiet now.”

The recessed lights high above them must have been on a dimmer switch. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the murk, but she could see the glimmer of the floor tile and the sheen of the metal handrail, which followed the curve of the spiral staircase. She felt Aidan behind her. Sammy, to her right, grumbled to himself, and she nudged him sharply. “Shhhh!”

“I turned the alarm off, but there’s a number code for the door lock,” a voice said. A shadow on the far side of the corridor peeled itself away and stepped toward them. Lucy froze.

Although the light was dim, Lucy recognized the form of the blonde Sweeper, Kelly. Dr. Lessing’s second in command. Lucy sucked in a breath and curled her fingers around the hilt of her knife. Beside her, Sammy and Aidan tensed. Kelly walked forward and showed her hands. They were empty. No Taser. She was wearing regular clothes, a button-down blouse and jeans. Her hair was tucked behind one ear, and on the other side it hung loose, draping her face.

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” Sammy said in a deeper voice than usual. He had the billhook out. His hand trembled.

“You can’t stop us,” Lucy said. “We’ll… kill you if you try.” She eyed the staircase. It was between them. She thought they could tackle Kelly before she could reach the first step. “If you make a sound, you’ll be sorry.” She pointed the ruined knife and ignored the small voice in her brain that wondered if she had enough blade left to stab someone—and the will to do it. Maybe Kelly would think the tremors shaking her hands were barely suppressed rage.

“Every door has a numeric locking code, and there’s a building-wide security check done at midnight, so you won’t be able to get back out again without help,” the woman said. Somehow her voice was familiar to Lucy. It nagged at her memory. She cudgeled her brain, but her thoughts were still muddied by the drugged coffee.

“We want to leave,” said Aidan. “You’ll help us get out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Lucy.”

Lucy forced herself to take a couple of steps. She squinted into the faint light, trying to see the woman. “Who are you?” she said.

Kelly turned toward them. Her right eye was surrounded by grafts of too-pink flesh, the tint of a pencil eraser. Lucy caught a gleam of a milky pupil and a cheek, cratered and pockmarked and covered in flesh-colored makeup.

The other half of Kelly’s face was normal: skin pale and even, her left eye, bright blue. The round-collared cotton shirt she wore was as neat and white as the uniform Lucy had last seen her in; only the wreck of her face spoke of the months that had passed. Time seemed to shift backward. In her mind, Lucy could hear the nurse’s measured tones warning of the pinch of the needle, feel the rubber tubing tied tight around her biceps, smell the pine-scented cleanser the school janitors used. Automatically she looked down at the woman’s feet, expecting to see the standard issue white brogues, but they had been replaced by gray cross-trainers.

“Mrs. Reynolds!” Lucy said. “I don’t understand. What happened to you?”

“Who is that?” asked Aidan, sidling up beside her. He wasn’t too steady on his feet. Sammy, one step behind, gripped his elbow.

“The nurse from my high school.”

The generator started up its slow grumble again. Frigid air blew from the vents. Lucy felt the skin on her arms rise up in goose pimples. Equal parts chill and fear , she thought.

Mrs. Reynolds had moved closer. Now she stood with her good eye facing them.

“What happened?” Unconsciously, Lucy’s hand, the one not gripping her knife in a death hold, flew up to her cheek, felt the reassuring smoothness of her skin. Immediately she was embarrassed. The woman’s scars were horrifying. In the light, she could see that the nurse’s right eye was opaque with a bluish cast. Blind.

“The plague. The risk of nursing sick people.”

Lucy’s chest contracted in pity. It was awful, but she had to remember the circumstances. Mrs. Reynolds was in this place. Which made her an enemy. She flexed her fingers and tightened her grip on her knife.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

“For her?”

“It’s complicated. Dr. Lessing is… she… she saved my life. Everyone here owes her a debt of some kind. The work she’s doing is important.”

“So are you here to convince me to just give up everything?” To her horror, Lucy found that she was crying. Seeing the nurse was a jarring reminder of her life before.

“No, I’m not. You’ll have to trust me.”

“Crap,” Lucy mumbled, swiping her streaming nose against her sleeve. She looked up at Aidan. His face was shocked. She gave herself a mental shake and raised the knife.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Lucy transferred her attention back to the nurse. “If that’s true and you want to help us, get us out of here now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the nurse said, “Okay.”

They crept down the stairs, their boots slapping against the hard marble. Mrs. Reynolds led them quickly, sure-footed in the gloom. Her sneakers were silent. Lucy glanced over the railing. The hallway far below was in complete darkness. It looked like a bottomless hole.

One floor down, then two. She could barely discern the outlines of doors leading to unknown rooms. No light gleamed from the cracks under the doors. She wondered if the other Sweepers were sleeping. The air conditioner had shut itself off again, and the generator was quiet. All was silent but for the puff of their breathing and the faint squeaks of rubber soles.