by Sarah Fine
Danny? In the time it took for Eli to wonder who the hell Galena was talking about, the text dissolved and a picture appeared. His sister was posing with her arm around a broad flat-screen computer, its holographic projections throwing all sorts of odd squiggles across the snapshot.
Of course. Danny. Her new computer.
He smiled, relieved, as he shot back a reply and tucked his phone in his pocket. She’d always worked hard, and she hadn’t let what had happened to her slow her down. If anything, she’d driven herself harder after the attack, trying to regain her sense of control. And it had really paid off; this faculty position in the Harvard University Immunology Department was a dream come true for her. Eli just wished she wouldn’t spend so much time alone. He hoped there were actual people in that lab facility and not just machines. It’d be nice if Galena made a friend or two.
Eli focused his gaze on the alcove next to the locker room entrance. A videowall there kept up a rotating feed of the different sectors of their station’s emergency response zone. He stared at the teeming canals and sidewalks. So many people. So many problems. The population of the city had swollen in the last few years as Boston became one of the few remaining cities with modern conveniences. Electricity. A (barely) functioning police force and fire department. Hospitals still stocked with antibiotics and anesthetics. Luxuries.
“Feeling prepared, Desert Boy?” Cacy called as she strode into the garage. Her uniform clung to her body, revealing lush, round hips and shapely legs.
Eli flashed a smile at her and looked back at the videowall, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his pants. “I’m always prepared, Lieutenant.”
Dec had told him about the dangers of the canal zones, and in the city in general. It didn’t sound any worse than what he’d faced on the streets of his hometown or during his stint as an Army Ranger.
Cacy yanked open the rear doors of the ambulance and climbed in, where she began systematically checking each compartment in the back, mumbling to herself about self-perpetuating saline gel, chemical defib solution, and fast-acting antibiotic boosters.
The back of the rig dipped as Eli climbed in to join her. She glanced at him irritably and wiped her hand over the back of her neck, drawing his gaze to a delicate platinum necklace that hung there. A circular pendant with some sort of bird etched onto its surface dangled from the chain. She saw him looking and tucked it into the collar of her uniform.
Cacy sat down on the side bench and slid toward the cab of the vehicle. She looked down at the bench and made a face. “Could you grab some Powderkleen and wipe this? I don’t know what day shift got up to in here, but I sure as hell don’t want to sit in what they left behind.”
Eli did as she asked, grateful to have something useful to do. He sneaked glances at her as he worked, admiring the absolute comfort with which she maneuvered around the rig. It was clear she had little tolerance for things being out of place. He was the same way, so it was a relief to have a partner who cared about those details as much as he did. Details saved patients’ lives.
She opened the front left cabinet and counted the rounds in the tranq guns. Dec had gone over the rules of engagement with him earlier. Eli had never wielded a tranq gun before, but he figured he could get the hang of it quickly should the need arise. He had plenty of experience with street violence, but in this city, he planned to focus on defending himself against it . . . instead of causing it.
Cacy leaned into the front seat. He wondered if she was aware of the amazing view she offered as she bent over to tap the nav screen by the steering wheel. He gritted his teeth and looked down at the bench, where he’d been scrubbing hard . . . about six inches away from the sticky spot that needed it.
He paused in his work, deciding this might be a good time to clear the air between them. “You don’t seem thrilled to have a new partner, Lieutenant. Seems too soon to be personal, but in case it is, I apologize again if I offended you earlier.”
“By eye-fucking me in the locker room, you mean?” she asked casually, not bothering to turn around.
He stared at the dangerous curves of her backside. Her tone hinted a challenge, which drew a smile to his lips. “Was it good for you, too?”
Her shoulders shook, and he wondered if she was laughing. But then she made a disgusted sound and grabbed something from the front passenger seat. She turned around and held out a small colorful box. “Want some mockolate? It’s the high-end stuff. My father once got us the real thing, and I swear this tastes just like it. You have this kind of thing in the desert?”
Eli peered at the box. “No, can’t say I’ve ever seen that.”
“Seriously?” She ripped off the lid of the box and plopped down on the bench. There was a raw, spicy-sweet scent to her that he couldn’t quite place, but it made his heart race. He scooted back a few inches and sat on the floor of the rig.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re offering me candy? Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
She gave him a thoroughly seductive smile and plucked a creamy-dark square of mockolate from its crinkled paper nest. “Nope. It means I’m willing to share Len’s please-screw-me gift with you.”
His mouth dropped open. She took advantage of his surprise and popped the piece of candy between his lips. His mouth snapped shut as deep, earthy sweetness melted on his tongue. His eyes rolled back and he moaned. “Wow.”
When he recovered enough to open his eyes, Cacy was staring at him with a slightly glazed look. But then she brusquely crammed the lid back on the box and jumped out of the ambulance. “Don’t get used to it,” she called over her shoulder.
This woman was giving him a serious case of whiplash. He leaned out the rear of the rig to watch her.
Len stalked into the garage, carrying his med kit. He scowled and raked a hand over his buzz cut when he saw Cacy about to dump the candy into the trash bin.
“Really, Cace? That cost a fortune!”
She shoved the box against his broad chest. “Don’t spend a cent of your hard-earned paycheck on this stuff, Len. It’s not going to get you anywhere with me.”
For some reason, her statement lifted Eli’s mood. More than it should have.
Len opened the box, peeked in, and grinned. “You ate one. I must be making progress.”
For some reason, that statement made every muscle in Eli’s body tense. He hopped off the rear deck of the ambulance and strode toward them. “Uh, no. That was me. Amazing stuff, Len. Thanks for sharing—with us.”
Len’s eyes narrowed to slits. He opened his mouth to say something but got cut off by the screech of the wireless alert. They turned toward the videowall in the alcove and listened to the dispatcher’s voice: “Mass casualty incident at the intersection of High and Pearl. Multiple units requested. Caution advised. Fire crews and law enforcement not yet on scene.”
Len and Cacy cursed in unison when they saw what appeared on the videowall. Dec had told Eli that the city’s surveillance cams, as well as most private home and business cams, were hooked into the emergency call system. When someone placed a call, the feeds from that location were automatically displayed on their screens so they could see what they were up against. It was an impressive system, something they could have used in Pennsylvania. It might have saved some paramedics’ lives.
Tonight they were treated to a view of twisted metal and fiery wreckage. Len ran up to the screen and zipped his fingers along its surface, already yelling at his crew. “AV and NMOB collision!” He enlarged the screen capture and flipped it around, giving everyone a 360-degree view of the disaster. “Multiple casualties in the water. Mobilize four-two-zero, four-three-six, four—”
Cacy grabbed Eli’s arm and tugged him into motion. “Come on. We’re four-three-six.”
Eli kept up with her easily as they sprinted for their ride. “AV and NMOB?”
Cacy didn’t miss a beat. “Amphibious vehicl
e and nonmotorized multiple-occupancy boat. Some jackass didn’t look both ways and crashed into a boatful of refugees. Third time this month. I’ll drive.”
“You’re the boss, Lieutenant,” he said as he split off from her and rounded the ambulance to jump into the passenger seat.
Cacy swung herself up into the cab and punched the ignition code. “Seat belt, Desert Boy.”
She tapped the red square on the nav screen, and the ambulance bay doors whooshed open. Eli sat back and watched her slender fingers grip the steering wheel. She glanced over at him. “Ready for your first mass casualty in our fair city?”
There it was. Another challenge. Eli smiled. “I think I can handle it.”
“We’re about to find out if you’re right.” She flipped the siren on and hit the gas.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cacy floored the ambulance across Kneeland Street, splashed into the wide mouth of the Main Canal, and gunned the water jets.
And immediately had to pull the throttle back with all her strength.
“Damn sampans,” she yelled, rolling down the window and waving her arms at the people on the slow-ass flat-bottomed boat in front of the ambulance. They simply ignored the giant amphibious vehicle with the blaring sirens. “Take the wheel, Eli, will you?”
“What?” He looked at her like he’d never driven an amphibious before. He probably hadn’t, since Pittsburgh was pretty much a desert wasteland. She hoped he was a quick study.
“Take. The. Wheel.” She was halfway out the window when he scooted over and did as he was told.
As the rig lurched forward, she nearly lost her balance and tumbled out, but Eli’s warm hand wrapped firmly around her thigh to offer her some stability. Cacy clenched her teeth. It felt annoyingly fantastic. His grip tightened and he swerved against the canal wall to keep from hitting a speeding uniboat as it zipped between the ambulance and the sampan. Cacy’s ribs hit the edge of the window. Hard. That did not feel fantastic.
“Jesus! That was close,” he shouted. “You okay up there?”
“Just fine,” she called, grateful for his hold on her as she leaned forward and screeched at the sampan owners in Mandarin. Their eyes widened and they flipped on the tiny motor at the back of their boat, quickly making way for the rig.
“Did they not understand what the siren means?” Eli asked as she slid back through the window and settled into the driver’s seat.
“No, they understood just fine. But we have so many emergencies that they tune us out after a while.”
“Then what did you say to get them to move like that?”
“I threatened to cut off their balls and use them as hood ornaments.”
“It occurs to me that you might not be kidding.”
“Oh, Trevor was right. You are fresh.” She reached over and tousled his hair. Mistake. It was silk between her fingers and she had this flash of fantasy about running her fingers through it as he did a few things to her that may or may not have involved melted mockolate.
“Jeez! Look out!”
Cacy’s hands snapped back to the wheel, and she swerved to avoid an overcrowded NMOB. “Sorry.”
“Four-three-six, kindly tell me what the fuck you’re doing up there,” Len’s voice spat over the wireless. His flashers painted their rear view. Freaking tailgater.
Cacy hit the “Reply” key to open the line. “Breaking in the new guy. He likes it rough.”
Eli didn’t turn to the window quickly enough to hide his smile.
Len treated them to a truly uninspired string of curses until he heard Cacy snoring over the wireless. He hit the “Mute” key so hard the crack resounded through the cab of their rig.
“Now that we’re alone again,” Cacy said sweetly, “tell me—did Dec go over canal-site protocol this afternoon?”
She swung the ambulance into the High Street Canal, which was barely wide enough for two AVs shoulder to shoulder. Massive skyscrapers jutted up on either side, rimmed by wide sidewalks and a low wall to keep people from falling into the water. Up ahead, she could already see the accident. This was going to be bad.
“He was very thorough, Lieutenant. Both triage and rules of engagement with third-party threats,” Eli said briskly as he leaned forward to peer through the windshield, game face on. Cacy could tell he was already trying to spot the victims.
“Yeah, well, the fire crews are so overstretched these days that they only make it to half the calls. It looks like we might be on our own on this one, so keep your eyes open.”
Behind them, Len and two other units made the turn from the Main Canal and motored into the High Street Canal. The flashing lights were reflected in the glass storefronts, but they weren’t necessary at the moment. The canal and sidewalks were empty. The city’s residents knew what happened after accidents and hadn’t stuck around.
Cacy took a moment to survey the scene; there were a few bodies in the water, but many of them had been hurled onto the sidewalk or against the canal wall. The AV must have been going ungodly fast. It was overturned in the canal, surrounded by the demolished NMOB. She cursed under her breath as she reversed the water jets and spun the rig around in the last intersection before they reached the wreckage. The canal walls seemed high and close as she backed up the rig to the edge of the accident site, listening closely for the chiming alert that would tell her if she was about to hit organic material in the canal. Like a body.
Len’s voice came over the wireless again. “Just heard from Fire and Police. They’re on their way but advised it will be a minimum of ten till they’re on scene. You want to sit in the rig and wait?”
“With all due respect, Len—hell, no,” yelled Cacy, pulling to a stop and reaching for her gloves and goggles.
Eli clearly shared her attitude. He had already zipped on his gloves, strapped on his goggles, and climbed into the back, where he grabbed a med kit and swung open the rear doors.
“Don’t forget your tranq gun!” she called, getting on her own gear and jumping into the back. The scent of gasoline burned her throat as she watched Eli vault over the wall and onto the sidewalk, headed straight for a shapeless, bleeding heap hanging halfway into the canal. He made a lightning-fast assessment of vitals, then wordlessly pulled a black tag from the thigh pocket of his uniform and slapped it on the victim’s back. Their first fatality.
Eli shot to his feet and ran to the next body.
Reassured he knew how to triage, Cacy sprinted past him, scanning back and forth for threats. Her tranq gun rattled at her waist as she hopped over a severed leg to land beside its owner, a gray-lipped middle-aged woman. The lady’s eyes went wide with terror at the sight of Cacy, and she shook her head frantically. Her hands fluttered helplessly at her sides, weakly trying to ward her off.
“Shhh,” Cacy said softly. She tapped the insignia on the front of her uniform. “Medic. Hospital. You’re safe.”
The woman’s hands went still. She nodded.
Cacy did a quick vital scan, checked the woman’s airway, pinched an oxygen minipump on her nose, and slapped an automatch skin-bandage over the stump of her left leg.
“Three black, two orange, four reds.” Len’s voice echoed from across the canal. He and the other two units had docked on the other side, where the ass end of the overturned amphibious SUV jutted up onto the sidewalk.
Cacy yanked an insta-cold limbsack from her med kit, carefully bagged her patient’s left leg, and left it lying next to the woman. She pulled a red tag from her pocket and stuck it to the woman’s chest. She could survive if she got to the med center soon. “Got a red here,” Cacy called.
“Me too,” Eli said calmly as he injected self-perpetuating saline gel into a male victim with a nasty head wound. Eli lifted his head and met Cacy’s eyes, then nodded to his left. A young woman lay on her side, crumpled against the door of a shuttered storefront, her arms and legs canted in t
he wrong directions. “Another red?”
Cacy scrambled over to the girl and checked her vitals. She was still alive, but only barely. Cacy did some quick mental calculations. They had seven reds in all—victims needing immediate and intensive medical care. And two oranges—those who needed care but weren’t as critical. But they only had four rigs, which were meant to transport one patient at a time, two if they were desperate. And this area was too dangerous to leave anyone behind.
Time for the Ferry brand of triage.
Cacy kept her back to Eli and unsnapped the Scope from the platinum chain around her neck. Her thumb brushed over the disk’s surface, opening a tiny window to the Veil. She held it to her eye like a monocle and looked at the now-shadowy-and-transparent girl at her feet. Across the girl’s chest lay a jagged cross within a glowing orange circle.
Theta, symbol of death.
The girl was Marked. She would not survive. Cacy wondered if Trevor had done it, or if another Ker was responsible.
She kept the Scope concealed in her hand as she turned around. Eli had retrieved the body board from the rig and was hunched over his patient, carefully positioning a head and neck brace in preparation to transport. Cacy put the Scope to her eye and scanned his patient’s body. No Mark.
The woman who’d lost her leg was also un-Marked. That made two reds on this side of the canal who would live—but if they didn’t get immediate and intensive medical care, the rest of their lives might not be worth living. On Len’s side, there was a sea of glowing orange Thetas. At least three Marked bodies lay on the sidewalk, but they were already tagged black. One more floated at the edge of the canal, his clothes snagged on the splintered wreckage of the NMOB. And from the shattered window of the SUV hung its driver, his fat, ringed fingers dangling in the water. The driver’s Theta mark covered his entire back, as if the Ker who did it wanted to make double sure the guy was doomed.
Two of Len’s red patients were Marked, too, which meant they would die no matter what the paramedics did for them, no matter how good the prognosis seemed. Len was wasting good chemical defib solution on one of them.
