Garth Nix - Lord Sunday

Leaf adjusted the surgical mask she was wearing to keep the radioactive dust out of her lungs. She had a white doctor’s coat on as well, surgical gloves and a floral plastic shower cap on her head. Once upon a time, the other people in the line might have laughed at her, but now they all wore strange combinations of hats and headscarves and raincoats and rubber gloves – anything to avoid breathing the radioactive dust and to keep it off their skin.

She’d been waiting in the line for water, food and antiradiation drugs since soon after dawn that Sunday morning. The Army had fired their micronukes at East Area Hospital a little over twenty-eight hours before, at one minute past midnight on Saturday morning, initiating a hellish twenty-four hours for Leaf and Martine and all the sleepers at Friday’s private hospital.

It would have been bad enough for Leaf on her own, without the added responsibility of looking after all the people who had been put to sleep by Lady Friday, who had wanted to harvest their memories. After Friday’s defeat, Leaf had shepherded the sleepers back from Friday’s otherworldly lair, only to learn of the impending nuclear strike, and then as Arthur’s time stop had begun to wear off, she’d had to make a frantic and not entirely successful attempt to move everyone to the underground level.

Though Friday’s building was less than a mile from East Area Hospital, there was a slight hill between them, and it had also been shielded by a taller, very solid warehouse building, so it had not been badly damaged by the explosive force of the micronukes. However, there had been small fires all around the outside and everything was contaminated by radiation – though no one knew how bad the contamination was and Leaf hadn’t been able to find out. To make the situation even more difficult, all the sleepers had woken up over the course of the Saturday morning, and were badly disoriented and often wanted to just get up and get out. This was double trouble, because all the doors needed to be kept shut to keep radioactive particles out as much as the sleepers inside.

An hour or so after the nuclear strike, special fire trucks had rumbled in and put out the spot fires with their water and foam cannons, though no fire-fighters got out of the vehicles. They were followed by armoured personnel carriers that drove up and down the streets, their external bullhorns loudly crackling with instructions to civilians to stay inside, keep doors and windows sealed, and stand by for further orders.

Those further orders had come on Saturday night, with designated aid stations to be opened the next morning to issue water, food and medication. Every household had been told to send one member, and warnings were issued about wearing gloves, a face mask of some kind and a coat that could be discarded before going back inside.

Leaf had come out to get help for the sleepers, who included her Aunt Mango. Lady Friday had never intended that her private hospital would actually cater to live patients, so there was very little food or medicine, and the only water they knew was not contaminated came from a single water cooler barrel that had been in the front office, and that had only been enough for the merest sip when shared among so many people.

Leaf ran her tongue around the inside of her dry mouth as she thought of that water barrel. She could see people ahead of her in the line coming back carrying big, sealed containers of water and Army-issue backpacks that were presumably stuffed with food and medicine.

She’d tried to explain to one of the soldiers standing guard that she wasn’t from a normal house and needed more help, but he’d refused to listen and told her to join the queue. She’d tried to argue, but he had levelled his assault rifle at her and told her again to get in line. His voice through his gas mask had sounded nervous, so she’d backed off.

It had meant an hour’s wait, but she was almost up to the desk where two more soldiers, bulky and strange in their biohazard suits, were checking people off before they got their hand-out. Two more soldiers stood nearby, with their assault rifles ready, and an armoured personnel carrier was parked so that its turret-mounted gun was aligned with the long queue of people that stretched behind Leaf. In some ways it looked like they were in enemy territory, not on a relief expedition in their own country, but then Leaf supposed the soldiers were nervous that some people would attack them because, after all, they had destroyed the hospital and irradiated the surrounding region, supposedly in order to sterilise it against further viral infection.

“Name?” asked the soldier when Leaf got to the desk. Even through the mask, she sounded kinder than the soldier Leaf had spoken to first. “How many in the family? Anyone sick?”

“My name’s Leaf, but I’m not here for my family. I’m from Friday’s private hospital three blocks away. We’ve got more than a thousand patients…and we need help.”

“Uh…a thousand patients?” asked the soldier. Leaf couldn’t see her face behind the mask, not even her eyes, as the Army masks had tinted lenses – but she sounded shocked. “A private hospital?”

“I think it’s one thousand and seven,” said Leaf. “Mostly pretty old, so quite a few are sick. I mean, not from the radiation, or not yet, but just because they were sick to start with. Or just old.”

“Um, I’m gonna have to check up on this one,” said the soldier. “Stand over there and wait, please.”

Leaf stood to one side as the soldier flicked a switch on the side of her mask and spoke on her radio. Her mask muffled her voice, but Leaf could hear a few words.

“Private hospital…thousand or more…not listed…No, sir…map…”

Leaf missed the next few words. Then the soldier was silent, listening to a reply that Leaf couldn’t hear at all. This went on for at least a minute, then the soldier turned towards Leaf and said, “OK, Major Penhaligon is coming to see you. Wait there until he arrives.”

Major Penhaligon? thought Leaf. That must be Arthur’s brother, who warned him about the nuclear strike.

She looked around while she waited. East Area Hospital was still sort of visible, about two miles away, though it was only a shell with one high wall still standing. A lot of the buildings around it had also been flattened and there were still some of the sealed fire trucks plying their water cannons on smouldering wreckage. There were also thirty or more orange armoured personnel carriers with the big black Q for Quarantine on their sides, lined up along the road that went to the hospital. The closest one had its back doors open and Leaf saw it had four shelves on each side, each holding several long orange bags. It took her a moment to comprehend that these were body bags.

Leaf got a terrible sick feeling in her stomach, looking at those body bags. As far as she knew, her parents and her brother, Ed, had left the hospital in the week when she was unconscious from the Greyspot disease, but she hadn’t been able to confirm that. She’d tried to get in touch with them at home, which was several miles away and so at least a bit safer, but all communications were down.

They must be OK, thought Leaf. They have to be all right. I’ve got to try not to think about them. I have a job to do.

She looked away from the body bags, but the sight of the people in the line was no more encouraging. Though she could only see their eyes, everyone looked frightened.

I’m frightened too, thought Leaf. Maybe we’re all going to die from the radiation. Look at the soldiers – they’re in complete protective gear with proper gas masks and everything. But then, if Arthur can’t stop the House and the entire Universe from getting destroyed, we’re all going to die anyway.