“Look for a tower,” she said, studying the diagram.
“A tower? Whatcha mean a tower?” Tanya sounded baffled while busy scratching her elbow.
“Fulvio’s map says it’s made out of steel beams and was once used to send electricity from place to place.”
Fabal squeezed between his mother and Tanya and added to their dialogue. “How does a steel tower send electricity?”
“Fabal, you’ve seen the wires in Tallas, it’s generated from water. But these are huge towers that were erected to send electrical currents over the mountain range to other parts of the country.”
“I wonder what it was like back then.” Fabal plucked at his bottom lip. “A country full of people communicating from one end of the world to the other.”
“I don’t think they communicated well.” Keeyla turned from the precipice to gaze on faces carved with varying degrees of ambiguity. “An unsuccessful peace accord exploded into another world war and then the Nuclear War, which almost annihilated the planet.”
“My mentor, Mrs. Snitzelwertz, taught us that the accord was null and void because a hostile organization assassinated people in power and then blamed it on different countries to start the war.”
“How’d you know that?” asked a man known as Hutch. “Not too many people are alive to tell the real truth about what happened. I was just a kid when my family hid out in the mountain. They’re all dead, been dead for twenty-five years.”
Keeyla looked at the man who was at least ten years older than her and Hutch’s memories seemed to coincide with her own. Her parents had also fled to the mountains seeking a safe-haven, but for their struggles only starvation and death awaited them.
“Goshen Quigley is the eldest living person in Tallas,” she said, “and part of the political party before the Final Days. He’s handwritten a book about the wars, and until we get printing presses running, we’ll have to spread the word by mouth.”
“Like in ancient times when people told stories and legends.” Fabal stretched hoping to appear older and wiser than his eleven years. “Right, Mom?”
“Something like that.” Keeyla stashed the map into her sack for safekeeping. “Maybe we can save the history lesson for another day.”
“Hey, I’m still trying to figure out what a mentor is?” Knox interrupted.
“It’s a person who teaches kids stuff,” Swan replied. Emitting a superior smirk to her brother, who stuck his tongue out at her.
“How’d you know that, smarty pants?” Knox’s shoulder nudged his sister.
“Fabal told me. You’d be too stupid to learn anything from a mentor ‘cause you have the attention span of a gnat.” She poked Knox in the stomach and ran off. “You can’t catch me.”
“You’re lucky I’m in agonizing pain, or I’d beat you to a pulp.” Knox’s gimping run after his sister generated hilarious chuckles.
The children’s mischievous banter allayed everyone’s pent-up nerves. Keeyla spoke in a quiet tone to Tanya, “Better change Knox’s bandages and apply more ointment on his wounds. Doogan won’t be happy that we even brought him on this expedition.”
“He’s just ‘bout healed. Don’t you think he looks good?”
Monitoring the children rough-housing, Keelya noticed they were taking it easy on Knox, which she expected. She also knew germs and infection were a forerunner to fever and sickness and to be avoided at all costs.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Paniess had a heck of a morning attempting to coerce her mother from her bed and getting her dressed. “I’m taking you into the village. You need to see people. Let them know you’re still alive.”
“Does it really matter?” Gwin brushed through her brunette hair streaked with gray while gazing at her reflection in the mirror. “Pomfrey wants me to stay at the mansion. I’ll putter around here.”
“Dad left an hour ago for a meeting with the Executive’s.” Paniess moved behind her mother. And taking the brush from her mother’s hands, swept the long strands into a chignon and pinned it in place. “There. You look lovely. Now I’m getting you out of here for a breath of fresh air.”
Tranquil while looking in the mirror, Gwin veered her head from cheek to cheek while patting strings of fly-a-way hair. “I look old.” Her fingers skimmed over fines wrinkles. “And pale.”
“Here. This is what you need to make your face pop.” Paniess unscrewed a tube of cherry lipstick and outlined Gwin’s lips and stepped back. “Now you’re ready to go.”
“Maybe we could stop at the Mercantile and buy some of...of what’s-her-names taffy,” Gwin said, her face brightened with a smile. “I haven’t had anything sweet in ages.”
“That’d be Clarista Wintersfeld. She makes the taffy.”
An hour later, passengers in the back seat, the Elites sedan stopped at the mansion’s gate.
“Where’s Clive?” Mediator Stark asked Jasper, the driver.
“He’s with Mr. Addler today.” Then Stark bowed low and looked into the rear seat of the vehicle.
“Good Morning, Paniess and Mrs. Addler. You’re looking wonderful.”
Paniess turned to her mom to see a blush forming on her cheeks. Pleased with the compliment she said, “Thanks, Stark. We won’t be long. Just going into the village for some taffy and fruit.”
“Have a good day.” Stark dipped his chin and opened the gates.
The sedan’s wheels bumped over and through hardened muddy grooves, joggling them. They drove between towering oaks molting their leaves. Exiting the lofty canopy they all noticed black clouds pluming into the sunny sky.
“Something’s on fire.” Distressed, Paniess clutched the front seat for a better look. “Hurry, Jasper.”
“Maybe we should return to the mansion. Mr. Addler won’t—”
“I don’t care what Mr. Addler says,” Paniess broke in, “just get us to the village. I want to see what’s happening. The smoke seems to be coming from behind the far duplexes.”
Jasper shook his head and gunned the sedan toward the village.
Citizens came running from the Orchards and fields, congesting the newly made walkways. “Get out of the way,” Jasper yelled, beckoning his hand out of the driver’s side window. The sedan headed to the main square as young and old alike rushed toward the inferno.
Jasper banked to the side of the dirt road and prior to switching off the engine Paniess had the rear door open. “Mom, stay here. I’m going to see what’s burning.”
Shouldering her way to the conflagration, she wondered why Tallas’s lone fire engine wasn’t on the scene. Vigorously walking past the duplex and into stalky weeds, bolts of trepidation veined through her body, she knew it was Goshen’s cottage.
Licking flames reached to the skies and people backtracked and screamed as the heat intensified. Someone shouted, “Goshen’s in there! I heard him screaming!”
No, it can’t be. This is no accident. “Why is everyone standing here gawking,” she cried, “somebody help him.”
“It’s suicide,” someone said, “can’t get near enough.”
Paniess dashed forward, to the cottage and the lopsided stoop. She lifted her arms over her face warding off suffocating smoke. Goshen’s torturous screams spawned an indecent spasm to the tips of her fingers. Her eyes stung and watered and imbibing a mouthful of burning smoke she gagged and coughed. Fanning the sheeting smoke, she mustered the gumption to slam through the smoldering wooden door.
Suddenly, arms encircled her waist. She was thrown aside onto the ground, and then another pair of hands braceleted her wrists and lugged her from the consuming flames. Yanking her wrists free, she wrenched upright and witnessed Rooney and Gee saturated in blankets storming the front door.
Within seconds, they emerged from the cottage just as it collapsed, shooting sparks like a mini-bomb. Draped over Rooney’s arms was a charred body. Barking coughs and blinking eyes, Gee and Rooney’s ash smudged faces shed tears as they headed from the inferno, and what remained of the cottage.
Citizens parted making room for them. Rooney knelt, lowering the lifeless body to the ground. The hissing blaze was the backdrop amid citizen’s guttural sobs and weeping. Reverently, Rooney touched the old man’s face, or what was left of it, closing his eyelids in death. When he raised his head, his gaze made contact with Paniess.
A look of brooding conjecture passed between them. Was Pomfrey behind the fire?
Citizens began to kneel in layers paying their respects for the esteemed and beloved Goshen Quigley. Brokenhearted silence reigned over the community. Paniess gazed over the bowed heads to catch her mother’s tangled expression of horror. Her mother’s hands flew to her wailing mouth as she turned and scurried away.
***
“Why’d you take her into the village?” Pomfrey said hotly to Paniess. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” They walked in accord through the mansion’s ostentatious foyer. Their shoes snapping on white marble streaked in gray. Bypassing the staircase that led to the lavish quarters of Zent and Cletus and paced to the far hallway.
“She needs to get out of this dungeon,” she said. Pomfrey stopped and furnished her with a frown. “Mom hobbles around like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. Have you seen her? Or do you just ignore the symptoms of severe depression?”
“Have I seen her?” he asked, his tone biting. “Who do you think runs into her bedroom in the middle of the night when she screams? Who pampers her like a baby?”
“Perhaps that’s the problem. She’s not functioning, and she needs to feel useful. You treat her like an invalid. She doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. She picks at her food and hardly eats enough to keep her alive. You should’ve seen her as we drove into the village, Mom looked happy for the first time in months.” She regarded her father’s inflexible face.
“You should’ve asked my permission before leaving the mansion. Like always you take it upon yourself to make decisions that are not yours to make.” In his anger, he pinched the lapels of his suit coat. “Because of your spontaneity Gwin is suffering. You never think of the consequences.”
Paniess’s hand latched on to her father’s forearm, holding him in place. “You knew Goshen Quigley’s house was going to burn down this morning. Didn’t you?”
“Are you calling me a prognosticator? Or are you accusing me?” His eyes narrowed. “Goshen’s old and accident prone. He fell asleep with his candle burning.”
Through his narrowing eyes, Paniess observed a lying wink and a smug twinge to his mouth. “Why don’t I believe you?”
On the threshold of Gwin’s bedroom, Pomfrey placed his fingers on the handle. “Perhaps when you visited recently,” he derided, “you should’ve forewarned Goshen of the dangers of leaving his candles burning while reading in bed.” He twisted the handle and breezed into Gwin’s room.
Floored, her mouth agape, she followed him.
There was little or no ambiance to the room. Musty, brocade draperies blocked the window and the afternoon shine. The bed’s comforter and covers were in disarray with a bump concealed underneath. Her father marched to her bedside and lifted a pillow from her mother’s head.
Gwin immediately struck back, snatching the pillow from his fingers. “What do you want?” Her placid eyes turned acerbic and the edges of her mouth tensed. “Why can’t you leave me in peace? Haven’t you caused enough damage today.”
Surprised by her mom’s outburst, Paniess stepped near. In all the years that she could remember, her mother never spoke a disheartening word to her father. Gwin bowed to his every whim like the dutiful wife. “Mom, I’m sorry you had to see that today. It was unfortunate.” Her mother’s eyes flit to Paniess, growing large and frightened.
“My poor baby. What has this fiend done to you?” Gwin sounded inane. “Pomfrey, you think I don’t know what you’re doing!” She thrashed her legs. “I might act like a docile wimp, but I know everything! Those people...” Hysterical, she cried. “Before Doctor Sese died he told me what a genius you are. How you’re making history. That I should be proud of their achievements in biochemistry. You make me sick!” Her fingers curled into talons and swished liked a tiger at his throat.
He grappled with her hands, manacling her wrists. He eased her back onto the mattress. “Gwin, you must calm yourself.” She spit in his face. “Please, you’re not well.” Clinging to her body, he said, “In the top draw of my bureau.” His eyes cut to Paniess. “A syringe. Get it.”
“No-o!” Gwin screamed. “I don’t want you sticking me with your filthy drugs. No more!”
“For God’s sake, Paniess, hurry.”
Paniess stared in dismay as her mom wailed like a crazy person. Pink rushed to Pomfrey’s face in his effort to placate her. She ran to the adjoining bedroom to her father’s bureau and was stunned at the boatload of medications. The hoard was more than likely miniscule to what he had stockpiled somewhere in the mansion. Even from her father’s room she heard her mother cussing.
Jaunting back, she spotted Zent and Cletus standing aloof yet inquisitive at the farthest end of the hallway. Apparently, Gwin’s caterwauling had reached their quarters on the second level. They knew better than to interfere unless requested.
Paniess submitted the syringe to her father.
“You have to give it to her,” he said, gnashing his teeth. “I’ll hold her.”
Paniess tried not to look at her mom’s eyes. She pricked the needle into her arm and plunged the medicine into her body. Within minutes, Gwin seemed to liquefy, and her eyeballs rolled in her sockets as she melted.
“I want Doctor Riggley here.” Pomfrey rearranged the bedcovers over her. “Do you hear me?” he ordered. “Right now.”
“He’s tending to Goshen,” she said, studying at her mother’s taut brow. The drug knocked her out, but internally she was in turmoil.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass. Goshen’s fucking dead. Gwin’s alive and needs him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Since it was unlawful even for the Elites’ daughter to have a cellular, Paniess was given permission to call Doctor Riggley with her father’s. Needless to say, her device was well hidden from prying eyes. “He’ll be here as soon as possible,” she said to her pacing father.
“What else did he say?” Pomfrey asked, looking suspicious. “You were listening to him for quite some time.” He held his hand aloft waiting for her to return his cell.
Placing the device in his hand, she hastily conjured an offhanded excuse. “During the fire one of the workers in the barn got a hoof in the chest. He’ll be here as soon as he finishes suturing the man.”
“Babbit can do that. I want him here. Now.” His face turned a nasty shade of crimson. “Dammit. Who the fuck does he think he is? When I say jump, he jumps!”
“Actually—” She cleared her throat, seeing Clive standing at attention barring the door. “Babbit’s assisting Rooney. I guess it’s pretty bad from the sound of it. But he’s sending a nurse to watch over Mom until he gets here.”
“Clive, get that nurse and put a word into the good doctor’s ear. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Pomfrey clasped his arms behind him and continued pacing.
What Paniess hadn’t divulged was the fact that after examining Goshen, Rooney had discovered a gash in his skull. The gash would’ve rendered him unconscious. He more than likely roused when the fire was in full throttle. The thought rotted the pit of her stomach. She recollected Goshen’s last smile and the fatherly pat on her shoulder as she left him just a few nights ago.
Paniess was relieved when the nurse arrived bearing a container of tranquilizers, and her pacing father departed. He murmured something about attending an important meeting.
“Hailla, thanks for coming.” Her smile felt false and detached. “We gave her something to relax her about an hour ago.”
Hailla’s lips rolled into her mouth and nodded, looking at Gwin. “She’ll be out for a while. Why don’t you go and get some rest. I’ll take care of your mother.”
“I’ll be down the hall.” Paniess toyed with her fingers. “Come and get me when Doctor Riggley gets here.”
“He shouldn’t be much longer,” Hailla said. “Just making final arrangements for Mr. Quigley.”
“I’d advise you not to mention Quigley around Mr. Addler. He...he’s quite upset about his death.”
“I understand.”
Paniess leaned over the bed and gently smoothed aside a strand of hair that had covered Gwin’s face. She hurried from the room and smacked into Clive, who’d been leaning on the wall. “Shouldn’t you be with my father?” She asked, and kept a steady pace along the hallway.
“Mr. Addler felt I’d serve him better by keeping my eyes on you.”
“Me? I don’t need protection in my own home.”
“I’m not exactly here for your protection.”
Paniess’s feet skidded to a stop. “What exactly does that mean?” She scowled, pinning her hands on her hips.
“Just to keep my eye on you. That’s all.” Clive’s gaze surfed over her face and then glanced over his shoulder, down the hallway. Deducing no one was watching, he raised his hand and caressed her cheek. “We could make use of this boring afternoon.”
“Don’t touch me.” She thwacked his hand and continued to her bedroom, hearing his booted feet clunking after her. Before she could shut the door in his face, he wedged his toe between the doorjamb.
“You’re not making this easy, are you?” His fingers gripped the door and reeled it open. “Mr. Addler said to keep my eyes on you. What about that statement don’t you understand?”
Fingernails of foreboding scraped the nape of her neck; she stifled a shudder. “By all means then, come in.” Sounding sassier than she felt, she turned to her closet. “You don’t mind if I get out of these clothes?” It had been a rush to get her mother home without the entire village watching her fanatical scene, and she was still wearing her marinated in smoke clothing. Clive tumbled onto her bed, getting cozy.
Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2) Page 11
