Jo Treggiari - Ashes, Ashes

Slowly, Lucy’s eyes adjusted to the dark. The steep stairs became more distinct. There were different grades of black, shades of gray. She quickened her pace, holding on to the railing in case she stumbled. Aidan and Sammy were right behind her.

Lucy could see the front door now. It was massive, steel, with a gleaming column of locks and bolts on one side and a heavy chain looped across it. They should have been suspicious when they’d come and found the place open, should have known it was a trick. People like this didn’t leave their doors unlocked.

“Break to the right once you’re outside,” Mrs. Reynolds said in a low voice. “The floodlights only illuminate the immediate area around the front entrance. If you stick to the edges, you’ll be practically invisible.”

Lucy hesitated. She didn’t know what to say.

“Just go. Once you’re through the door, run as fast as you can.”

Lucy hurried toward the door. Her hand reached up to pull the chain free and to click back the first of the deadbolts. The nurse, her shoulder pressed up against Lucy’s, tapped a sequence of numbers into a keypad. A red light turned to green. Lucy tried not to stare at the ravaged cheek so closely. She fumbled with the heavy bolt. It was stiff and she needed both hands to pull it back. But what to do with her knife? She didn’t dare put it down.

She felt the rush of cold air against her back first. An inner door had opened somewhere. Then the scuffle of heavy steps came out of the darkness behind them. She whirled around. Prepared for the suddenness of blinding lights, she pressed her free hand to her forehead and shielded her eyes. Even so, when the switches were thrown, the glare from the fluorescent tubes was dazzling. Lucy blinked furiously to sharpen her vision. Sammy had fallen back, his hood pulled over his black mask. Aidan braced himself. His eyes cut left and right looking for an escape route, but they were trapped.

At the corner of her field of vision, Lucy saw Mrs. Reynolds draw away from them. So much for her help , Lucy thought. We should have threatened her. Taken her hostage . She pressed up against the door, feeling the heavy bolts against her spine, searching for some way out. The foyer split into two corridors, which threaded around behind the steps. She didn’t know if they linked up or meandered in opposite directions. She knew the facility was huge, complex.

“Why are you acting like this?” Dr. Lessing said in her calm voice. She rested her hand against the steel banister. Her hair was no longer contained in a neat bun. She had it tucked behind her ears. Her lab coat was unbuttoned as if she had just thrown it on, and she wore blue slippers on her feet.

“Guests don’t sneak out like furtive thieves in the night,” she continued. “I’m disappointed in you, Lucy and Aidan. I thought we were being honest with one another.” The cool gray-painted stone walls picked up her words and threw them back again. The echoes were disorientating. Her gaze lingered on Sammy’s form, and a frown appeared momentarily on her forehead. His eyes glittered through the sockets of his mask.

“Who is that?”

“My brother,” said Aidan. “He thought he’d come and check up on us.”

“At one o’clock in the morning?”

“He couldn’t wait.”

“And is the costume in keeping with the rest of the theatrics you all seem partial to?”

Sammy pulled his hood lower. Aidan said nothing.

Dr. Lessing broke out into a peal of laughter. It rang loudly. She was bent over double by the force of it. At first the laughter invited them to join in, but it went on for too long, and when she raised her head again, she looked exhausted. Lucy felt a thrill of fear.

Dr. Lessing caught her breath, smoothed her hair down, and buttoned her coat. She uttered a short order, and the figures behind her stepped forward.

“Who are they? Your secret police?” Sammy asked.

“They’re here to keep us all safe,” she said.

She was flanked by eight Sweepers. All helmeted. All armed.

“Do they sleep in that getup?” Sammy asked. The doctor ignored him.

Lucy recognized Simmons by his bulk and his red hair. Doesn’t he know his boss is crazy ? Lucy raised her knife, feeling foolish as she did so. A broken knife against a bolt of electricity. She wondered how it would feel. A burning sensation, or maybe just a jolt to the heart that stopped it dead? Her palms were instantly slick with sweat. Aidan tried to push her behind him, but she resisted. “You’re still weak,” she whispered. “I heard you behind me tripping all over your feet.”

“Your knife is wrecked,” he whispered back.

“It’s still sharp.”

Dr. Lessing’s face softened. Her voice was pitched low. “Aidan, you shouldn’t be out of bed. Simmons told me at best you’d torn a ligament in your shoulder. There’s considerable tissue damage.” She turned toward Lucy with her hands out. “And Lucy, you were so exhausted, you fell asleep in my office between one sentence and the next.”

“You drugged us!” Lucy said. “Enough of these lies!”

Dr. Lessing laughed. “Instant coffee, a little stale, but the best that I could offer you. Hardly a drug.”

“You know what you did,” Lucy spat. “Who are you pretending for? Them? They just do what you tell them, right?” She waved her arm at the Sweepers.

Lines of concern etched themselves onto the woman’s face.

“You’re confused. You must have had a nightmare of some kind.” She beckoned to Lucy. “Come, back to your bed, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Lucy took a shaking step forward. She felt Aidan’s hand on her shoulder, and then it fell away. She stared at the doctor and saw nothing in her eyes but compassion and a wrinkle of worry. It appeared genuine enough. She hesitated.

The scene in front of her seemed too absurd to be real: the Sweepers, silent, invisible faces behind the reflective Plexiglas helmets, grasping their bristling black boxes; the doctor in her lab coat; three kids armed with an assortment of useless weapons. Even Sammy’s curved blade was better suited for slicing off a handful of basil. Lucy’s head felt scrambled. She wondered how long it would be before whatever sedatives Dr. Lessing had given them wore off completely. What was real? That was the question that was nagging at her. Dr. Lessing had an explanation for everything. How much of what Lucy was feeling was paranoia seeded in the early days of the plague? The Sweepers, the S’ans. She glanced at Sammy. She’d been totally wrong about the S’ans. What else was she wrong about? Was it true that these people were just trying to make everything better? Safer?

Dr. Lessing moved a step closer, Simmons at her heels, but she gestured him back. The Sweepers kept their positions. A slight smile curved her mouth.

“You’re so tired, Lucy. It’s been so hard for so long,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to be this grim struggle for survival, you know. We just want to look after you. And your friends.” Her smile broadened. She waited, her eyes intent on Lucy’s face.

Lucy shifted from one foot to the other. Her arms were sore. The hilt of her knife was slippery in her fingers. How long could they face off like this? Should they rush the Sweepers? She didn’t think any of them was up to a fight.

“I can offer each of you a bath, a bed, and a good hot breakfast in the morning.”

Lucy felt her resolve weaken. Her hands dropped a bit. Dr. Lessing came another foot closer. Close enough that Lucy could see a smear of face cream caught in the fold of skin by her nostril. It reminded Lucy of her mother. She glanced at Sammy, whose face was still masked. Then at Aidan. His expression only mirrored the confusion she felt.