Rescue Mission

by Linda Jordan

  His wristband pinged.

  Morrigu.

  Damon sighed and left the training session, walking quickly past two of Morrigu’s storage warehouses. He should call Gregor and put together a battle plan. The man was forever searching out and reading books about the old wars. Maybe he could help. Maybe he could do the flyover and see what Collin’s weapons and security looked like.

  He passed a guard, nodded at the woman, then pulled open the back door of Morrigu’s Castle. From the sky above a roaring sound came. He couldn’t place what it was. It didn’t sound like the Zoo’s cargo planes.

  Then Damon saw sleek planes diving above Roosevelt’s warehouses. Three of them. Dropping bombs and shooting big guns.

  Within seconds Roosevelt’s warehouses exploded, and went up in flames. The planes rose and leveled off, circling. Hopefully, just to see what damage had been done.

  Damon was on his wristband.

  “Everybody to the basement of the closest warehouse you can find. We’re being bombed. Roosevelt’s up in flames. Emergency communication only. Get inside and down.”

  He motioned to the guard to get inside.

  His wristband was silent. As it should be.

  One of the planes came back for another round, taking out the airfield. All of Roosevelt’s modified for war cargo planes went up in fire and smoke. He could hear the explosions of the fuel tanks.

  Damon coughed as the wind changed, bringing smoke his direction. He closed the door, but stayed outside. The breeze switched again and the air became more breathable.

  The planes circled above.

  He hoped the people sparring had gotten under cover in time. He couldn’t see, there was too much smoke down here. All those warehouses of alcohol, and the weapons Roosevelt had been collecting, still exploding.

  The planes must have been satisfied with the damage, they flew off. Towards the Eastside.

  It must have been Collins. He was the only one over there with planes, their first reconnaissance flight had said. They must have been spotted. This was a warning.

  If they’d been serious, every single warehouse in the Zoo would be gone. They’d known which ones were Roosevelt’s and targeted those. They had someone inside.

  Damon called Little Roosevelt on his wristband. There was no answer. He tried Roosevelt. No answer there either. Maybe their system had gone down with the bombing. He tried Evangeline.

  “Here,” she said, out of breath.

  “What’s your damage?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m still off in the woods, outside the fence, gathering herbs. On my way back.”

  “Roosevelt’s warehouses were bombed. Collins, I’m guessing. I can’t reach Roosevelt or Little Roosevelt.”

  “Neither can I,” she said. “Listen, I can talk to you or run fast. Not both.”

  “Okay. I’m going over there. Meet you there.”

  “Three minutes,” she said.

  Damon spoke to Morrigu’s people with his wristband as he walked.

  “Two of Roosevelt’s warehouses have been bombed and shot up. And the airfield. I’m going over to see what’s going on. I need about thirty strong backs right now. With stretchers. Get the medical center staffed up and running at full speed. We’ll have casualties.”

  He felt rather than heard Morrigu’s wave of rage. Damn, he’d forgotten about her. How could he have forgotten?

  “We need to take care of our own first. Then decide how to respond,” he sent to her alone.

  Morrigu’s voice was deep and controlled. “They will pay. Just not yet.” He could sense the danger there. Relieved it wasn’t aimed at him.

  Damon ripped off part of his shirt and tied it over his nose and mouth.

  The closer he got, the thicker the horrible, toxic smoke swirled through the air. He found people who’d staggered out of the nearby warehouses. The ones who hadn’t gotten bombed. Air masks would help. Morrigu had none, at least not easily at hand. They hadn’t been needed since the old days when she and Roosevelt were at war. Who knew what was in that smoke, could be poisonous gases.

  He gathered together those still standing and able.

  “You ten, get anyone alive to Morrigu’s Blue Warehouse. Carry them if you have to. I’ve got people coming to help. The rest of you mask up however you can. We’re going to the airfield to search for survivors. The warehouses are too hot. We’ll have to wait till they burn themselves out.”

  They ran to the airfield. They found only four survivors. Two in the tower who’d been pierced by shattering glass and were bleeding badly. Two men who’d been unloading a jewelry shipment. Overcome by smoke and unable to hear from the explosions.

  Some of the others carried the four wounded to the Blue Warehouse.

  Damon looked around. All the planes on the ground were gone. Still burning, twisted piles of metal. The runway might be usable if it was cleared of rubble.

  He’d have to get someone on that soon. At least two planes were scheduled to land this afternoon. If Collins didn’t come back, they’d have at least two planes. Better tow them into a warehouse and hide them.

  The large fuel tank was still burning, a column of black smoke spiraling into the sky. But the smaller one on the other side of the field looked untouched. It was underground and hopefully full.

  Damon and the remaining people headed over to the Blue Warehouse. It was filled with people lying on empty pallets. Morrigu’s medical staff, rushed around in their white coats. Doing triage. Morrigu walked between the pallets, stopping here or there.

  He could feel her magic thick in the air, like tingling on the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck. She was either helping the healers or putting dying people out of their misery. He didn’t have time to see which.

  Damon pulled the cloth down off his face and gulped down the clean air. The ventilation system was running at full tilt. This had once been an art warehouse and air quality and temperature were important.

  Damon motioned to anyone standing around.

  “Back to Roosevelt’s warehouses. Let’s see if we can get in. Has anyone seen Roosevelt or Little Roosevelt?”

  Everyone shook their heads no.

  One of Roosevelt’s men said, “They were both meeting in the munitions warehouse this morning. Taking stock of what we still needed.”

  That wasn’t good.

  The warehouses were still on fire. One of them, had partially collapsed. The other one looked dodgy, as if it could go down at any time.

  Roosevelt’s man pointed to the partially collapsed one and said, “That one’s munitions. The one still standing held alcohol. Mostly wine.”

  Damon pulled thick leather gloves out of his pocket and tried the smaller door of the munitions warehouse. It creaked open. Heat and flames blew out through the open door. Damon leapt back.

  Around the corner of the warehouse ran Evangeline.

  “I can’t get in from the other side,” she said, winded. “Can’t get the door open.”

  “Is anyone still alive in there?” asked Damon. “Can you tell?”

  She stood and closed her eyes, gasping for breath. Searching. He could feel the magic roll off of her, like the sweat that trickled down her arms. She wore tight pants, boots and a t-shirt. A scarf around her nose and mouth. Her long braids tied back tight to her head.

  She opened her eyes and said, “There might be one person alive in there. In the far back. But they’re weak. I can’t tell who it is.”

  “How about the other warehouse?” he said, nodding to the alcohol one.

  She searched there and shook her head.

  “No one.”

  Damon turned to the ten men behind him.

  “Can we get those big doors open?” he asked.

  “That would only fan the flames. We need to get the fire out,” said one.

  “Does Roosevelt have any fire fighting equipment?”

  “We can link some hoses together. From water in the other alcohol warehouse. Might help a littl
e,” said another man, pointing to a warehouse next to the collapsing one.

  “We should go in the front if we can,” said Evangeline. “It’s closer to the person who’s alive. I think it’s Roosevelt.”

  The man nodded, motioning to four others to follow him. They ran.

  “Meet us in front! And someone find a sledgehammer fast!” yelled Damon.

  One man ran off and Damon and Evangeline ran around the side of the burning warehouse. The heat was horrible. Damon hadn’t thought he could run that fast anymore.

  The two biggest guys took the door at the same time, but the lock held. Damn, steel door.

  Evangeline tried to work on it with her magic, but it didn’t budge.

  “I can’t do machines or mechanisms,” she said, looking around wildly. “We don’t have much time.”

  The man came back with a sledgehammer, breathing heavily. One of the big guys took it and pounded on the deadbolt with it. Finally, the lock gave and the door swung open. Smoke poured out. But there wasn’t a fire in this end. It looked all metal and concrete. Not much to burn. There was nothing stored in this end of the warehouse.

  “I’m going in,” said Evangeline. “I can find him, but I won’t be able to carry him by myself.”

  The two big guys said, “We’ll follow.”

  She stepped inside the door, followed by them.

  Damon told one of the others, “Go get a stretcher and strong backs to carry it.”

  If Roosevelt was alive, he’d need a stretcher. The man ran off towards the Blue Warehouse.

  Then the other five men came back with the hoses and running water. They went inside and took turns shooting it towards the closest flames, trying to keep a safe path for the rescuers.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” said Damon to himself. This heap was going to collapse any moment.

  9

  Evangeline

  Evangeline wove through the toxic smoke, the scrap of shirt still covering her mouth and nose. It wasn’t helping much. Her eyes burned, and tears caused by the smoke ran down her cheeks, mingling with sweat.

  She hurried, trying not to trip over all the debris on the floor. The smoke was so heavy that the fire wasn’t lighting her way much. The skylights were useless. She trusted that the two men were able to see and follow her.

  A faint pulse of life fluttered ahead, off to the left. The pillars of flames lit what was left of the warehouse. Periodic burst of gunfire sounded when a box of shells began to burn. Even more reason to hurry.

  The ceiling creaked. It wouldn’t last long.

  Sweat ran into her eye and she wiped it away, surprised there was any liquid left in her body to sweat out. She’d run so fast from outside the fence. And then the unbearable heat from this fire.

  There. Over by a still intact, pallet of guns. A dark shadow of a body lay crumpled. She ran to him. Roosevelt. The smoke was rising, down by the floor there was still clean air. But he was covered with blood.

  The two men followed quickly and they straightened Roosevelt’s body out. One of them quickly rolled on top of Roosevelt, grabbing one of Roosevelt’s legs. The man pulled the leg up over his shoulder and continued rolling until he was on one foot and one knee. He balanced Roosevelt on top of his shoulders, then slowly stood. It was a move Evangeline had only witnessed once. Done smoothly and flawlessly.

  The ceiling creaked again and the walls shuddered. Metal screeched.

  The three of them ran for the exit. There was a path clear of flames where one of the men was using a hose. As Evangeline passed the man, she waved at him to leave, pointing to the ceiling.

  They ran through the front door, the man carrying Roosevelt lagging behind. There was a stretcher there and two more men with it. They took Roosevelt from the big man’s shoulders. The big man promptly collapsed. His buddy dragged him farther away from the building while the big man gasped for breath, recovering from the exertion, his shirt covered with Roosevelt’s blood.

  Evangeline ran a ways away from the building to where the others were. She ripped the cloth off her face and bent over double, breathing hard. Her lungs felt raw. Smoke was bad enough, but who knew what was in it. The bombs might have been filled with gas of some sort. Just the toxins from burning plastic were bad enough.

  The men with the stretcher had put an oxygen mask on Roosevelt and were strapping him into the stretcher. It was one of those old ones, designed for rescuing people out in the woods. Made for carrying over rough terrain. They took off running before Evangeline could even get another look at Roosevelt to see how he was.

  At that moment, the warehouse went down. The wave of heat and debris moved outwards like a cloud. They all ran farther away from the building. Even the big guy who’d been down.

  Not long after, the alcohol warehouse came down.

  Funeral pyres both of them. How many people had been killed? Little Roosevelt must be gone.

  Damon said, “C’mon, let’s go. Those of you who need to, go to Morrigu’s Blue Warehouse. Let’s get some water. Then we need to get the runway cleared. We’ve got two planes coming in today. They’ll need a place to land.”

  He was right, but at that moment, she hated him.

  Evangeline decided to go to the Blue Warehouse. Check on Roosevelt and get some oxygen. She was spent. Her muscles felt limp. After a rest, she would go help with the runway.

  The others all went to find water and to help with the runway. She walked alone to the Blue Warehouse. The air was clearing a bit. The wind blowing the smoke off to the northeast. She just wanted to lie down and rest. Knew she needed to get her lungs cleared out.

  The Blue Warehouse was organized. People all in white clothes, splattered with blood, moved between long tables stretching out across the floor. On top of those lay bodies. Live ones, she hoped. The place stank of fear and pain. Agony lay beneath those.

  The large room was lit from overhead lights and big skylights. With the huge loading doors closed, Evangeline could smell the fresh air. They had a filter, which was clearing out any smoke that drifted in. Most everything looked clean.

  One of Morrigu’s people sat her down with an oxygen mask and water. The water was cold and tasted of minerals. She drank the entire large cup and asked for more, which was given. Her body was dehydrated. She could feel a headache coming on.

  A woman in white quickly checked her. Then she rinsed her eyes with a saline solution which felt cool and healing.

  “Sit here for a few minutes. Get your lungs cleared out. Rehydrate,” was the woman’s final decision.

  She glanced over to the table where Roosevelt lay. Surrounded by medical people. Morrigu stood nearby, doing powerful magic.

  There was nothing Evangeline could do to help. She didn’t have much healing magic, even on a good day. This was no longer a good day.

  So, she sat and breathed the clean oxygen into her raw lungs. Her throat hurt, too. She took the mask off and gulped down more water. Then put it back on and breathed deeply, appreciating the pure air.

  Where did they get oxygen from? How did they extract everything else out of the air? Sometimes she marveled at the tech that still existed after all this time. Her world hadn’t added much to the repository of information. Neither had the last few generations. They’d simply been trying to survive.

  How many people had been lost in this raid? Would Roosevelt want revenge? Evangeline would if she were him. It was most likely that Young Roosevelt was dead. It would take a lot of effort to find his body, if it wasn’t totally incinerated. What did these people do with their dead?

  Evangeline became aware of a shadow hovering over her. She looked up to see Morrigu.

  “How is he?” asked Evangeline.

  “He will live, but it will be a very long time before he will be able to run his business again. If ever,” said Morrigu, in a quiet, sad voice. Unlike one Evangeline had ever heard her use.

  “How long?”

  “I do not know. He is not awake. His heart stopped for a time, but it is b
eating again. The doctors may be able to tell you more when they are finished with him. He would be dead if he hadn’t been brought here when he was.”

  “He was the only one still alive in that warehouse. Too many things exploding.”

  “Oh, so that’s why his ears felt all puffy. They were damaged from the noise,” said Morrigu, sitting down next to Evangeline.

  “He was in the munitions warehouse when it was bombed. When we went in to get him, there were still cases of ammo catching fire and exploding. After we got him out, the roof caved in and the whole building went.”

  Morrigu shook her head. She put a hand on Evangeline’s. Morrigu’s hand felt hot, burning with energy.

  “I will see that Collins pays for the deaths and damage he’s created. I cannot say when. Damon is better at gauging that sort of thing. But Collins will pay. An attack on Roosevelt is an attack on me. And never has Morrigu not sought revenge. Collins will find that he’s underestimated me. Will you join me?”

  “I am under contract to Roosevelt.”

  “I do not think he will need you in the near future. Should he live, he will not be able to communicate with anyone for quite some time.”

  “I will need to think about it,” said Evangeline. “I’ll have questions. Right now my mind isn’t clear enough.”

  “I understand. I’m ready to answer questions when you have them. For now, heal yourself. Get some rest.”

  Morrigu stood and walked away. Back to the people still laying on tables. Healing some, putting others out of their misery. Giving them quick, painless deaths.

  Evangeline searched her feelings for a path to follow. Nothing was clear. Everything was a fog today. She didn’t need to decide now.

  The doctors still surrounded Roosevelt. There was nothing she could do here.

  She finished her glass of water. Took one last deep breath of oxygen. Then unzipped the pockets in her leather boots and took out the thin leather gloves, zipping the pockets again. She put the gloves on and stood.