Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “Aw, shucks. I could’ve done it with my eyes closed.”

  “Stop bragging, Smelt.” Gus piped up. “We’re coming in for the landing. Easy does it, Ennis. Man, I thought I’d like flying, but my stomach’s sick.” Gus’s knees crashed on the metal floor, holding his belly.

  ***

  “Clive, wait in the foyer. I’m going to check on Doctor Riggley before I have Babbit look at my hand.” Paniess’s high-heels click-clacked over the tile and were cut short when Clive snatched her elbow.

  “Hey, Missy, I’m not your lackey. I’m supposed to be guarding you day and night. No hanky-panky on my watch.”

  “Really?” She jerked her arm from his clinging fingers. “After all I’ve done for you. This is how you treat me?” She blinked, hoping to gather water to appear teary eyed. “You know the real story on Doctor Riggley. I feel somewhat responsible. Give me a break.”

  “I liked him. He saved my mother when her appendix’s burst.” Clive surprised Paniess with an aggrieved expression. “Too bad he’s not going to make it.”

  If he discovered that Gee was attempting to save Rooney’s life, would he stop the operation? She didn’t trust him. He was in league with her father and striving for an upgrade in Management. She didn’t have time to play a game of truth or dare.

  “Please, Clive.” She beseeched in her finest inveigling tone. “I’ll do anything. Just let me say goodbye to him…alone.” Adding to her enticing demeanor, she squeezed his bicep and fluttered her eyelashes.

  “You have a thing for physicians, huh?” Clive surveyed the vacant foyer. “First Doogan and now his friend.” He leaned and his voice hushed over her. “I’ll let you say your goodbyes. If you be a good girl…tonight. I like a submissive kitten. You know what I mean.”

  Conquering the urge to claw out his eyeballs, her nails bit into his flesh. Clive smiled smugly, like what he said had produced a full-fledged hot flash of desire.

  “I’ll even purr if that turns you on.” She struggled to keep her voice sweet and alluring. “Tonight.”

  “Go. Say your good-bye,” he patronized while pillaging her with his eyes. “It’s the last appealing voice Doctor Riggley will hear.”

  Pirouetting on her heels and at a brisk stride, she followed the route to the surgical units.

  The Infirmary seemed strangely deserted. More like a morgue than a hospital. The usual patrolling Mediators were probably getting ready for the hanging, leaving the hallways free and clear. Thank God.

  All three surgical rooms were empty. She wondered if Gee had ventured below where the more sophisticated equipment could be had, the units where Doctor Merkle and the deceased Doctor Sese sliced and diced so-called mutants.

  Riding the elevator to the lower level, she coursed the dimly lit hallway in a hurry. Due to her prolonged absence and if Clive decided to investigate, the situation could get sticky.

  A sliver of light eked beneath metal doors. Chary, she cracked the door and spied Babbit lying at a funny angle on the floor. She knelt and placed her palm on his chest. He was alive and breathing. A door opened on her left; she heard a gasp.

  “Paniess, you scared me.” Hailla’s eyes darted around the interior looking like a jittery mess.

  “Calm down, Hailla.” She set the nurse at ease. “I’m not here on behalf of Mr. Addler. I begged Gee to operate to save Doctor Riggley.” Hailla’s chest heaved a sigh of relief.

  “We haven’t exactly started yet.” She glanced at Babbit. “We had some difficulty as you can see. We had to sedate him. And Gee’s not certain, or should I say, he feels inadequate to perform the intricate surgery. He’s afraid he’s going to kill Rooney in the process.”

  “Where’s Gee?”

  As if on cue, the door swung open and Gee in full surgical attire stood gazing at her.

  “Gee—” She needed to pump him up. “Rooney’s going to die. You’re providing him a chance of survival. Doogan explained to the best of his knowledge what to do. I trust him. And I trust you.”

  Gee’s face colored, either from embarrassment or humility. “I know, you’re right. Rigg’s vitals are sinking. I doubt he’ll last the day. I just wish Doogan was here to guide me.”

  “I have an idea,” she said. “Call Doogan on your cell. He can talk you through it.” Her curiosity about Doogan’s whereabouts had been nagging her.

  “Can’t,” Gee stepped to the chrome sinks and began to scrub his hands and arms to his elbows. “Malkus took it. He said I wasn’t warranted to have one.” Hailla held aloft a towel for him to dry his arms. “In other words, I’m not a doctor in his eyes, only an orderly.”

  “Malkus is throwing his weight around,” Hailla said, now holding a pair of surgical gloves. “Don’t let him get under your skin. You’re a better man and physician than he’ll ever be.” Hailla and Gee locked eyes and Paniess sensed ardent admiration.

  “Malkus might be with Fulvio as we speak,” Paniess informed, drawing their vision to her. “I asked Fulvio to keep him occupied so you could do your thing. How many people were you able to gather for the operation?”

  “This is it,” Gee said, squeezing his hands into the gloves. “Oh, and we recruited Doctor Otsa Merkle.” Paniess’s mouth dropped. “He walked in on us when we were setting up. I know the old man is ancient. He keeps saying he wants to help Doctor McTullan. Merkle thinks it’s Doogan. He’s our anesthesiologist.”

  “He’s administering the anesthesia now,” Hailla divulged. “We’d better hurry to make sure he’s not overmedicating Rooney.”

  “Actually you might be in luck.” Paniess buffed the palms of her hands together. “Merkle was once an exalted surgeon. So my father says. He might be able to give you a few pointers.” She looked to Babbit. “What about him?”

  “I gave him a dose that’d knock-out a horse for hours.” Gee sniffed. “So what’s happening on the outside?”

  “We don’t have time for a tête-à-tête.” Hailla gave Gee a chiding eye roll.

  “Can I come in just to say…” Paniess faltered. “Not goodbye, but see ‘ya later?”

  “Okay.” Hailla sounded exasperated. “Hurry it up, though.”

  The astringent smell of benadine, peroxide, blood, and death encapsulated the area. Paniess met the aged eyes of Doctor Merkle. He nodded, his wrinkly mouth caved inward. Since she’d been fired from her position at the Infirmary, she hadn’t seen Osta in months. The man appeared incognizant of what was transpiring. His mealy skin, wan and drawn, she predicted his life was winding down to the end stages.

  As she wandered to the gurney, the metric beating of the life support machines grated on her nerves. Seeing the once attractive face of Rooney, an ache formed in her throat. No longer healthy and virile, he resembled a hollowed skeleton with parchment-like skin. She gathered his cold fingers and cupped them in her hands.

  “Rooney,” she breathed almost inaudibly. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You’re going to make it. Do you hear me? You’ve procrastinated long enough. Time to get back to work.”

  Precise yet unsteady, she turned. Quashing the gush of bitter tears, she nodded to Gee and left.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Doogan jumped before Ennis switched off the contraption and rushed beneath the oscillating propellers. His hearing trained for any whopping noise coming from Tallas, a sure sign they’d been made, and Mediators were in the process of revving their heliocrafts. Or else, the worst case scenario, Fulvio’s execution was taking center stage, and the majority of Mediators were on hand to police citizens.

  His eyes pinpointed the speeding bear. Tibbles barreled over the plain through weedy grass that had lost its stiffness in the approaching winter season.

  Doogan sprinted to meet him. “Is Zennith…” he didn’t want to say ‘dead.’ Instead, he asked, “Does he need help?” Stupefied, Doogan detected misery on the bear’s fuzzy face. He was beginning to understand this wild creature in more ways than one.

  Tibbles lamented, swaying his head. Then
he lifted on his hind legs looking skyward. He snarled exhibiting fangs and pointed a taloned-nail toward the cerulean dome. “Heggl.”

  The crew had flocked around them, gazing upward.

  “What’s that?” Doogan squinted into the sun-ridden sky. “Whatever it is, it’s huge. Look at that wingspan.”

  “It can’t be. Can it?” Gus lined his fingers along his brow to shade his eyes. “It’s flying so high.” As if the hovering fowl heard him, it spiraled closer and floated over them casting shadows.

  “It’s gigunda,” Keeyla stated. “Gus, do you know what it is?”

  “When I was a kid I’d seen a dead one once, well, what was left of it. Fulvio thought it died of old age or from coming too far south. Fulvio named them Heagles because they resembled a hawk and an eagle. He said they looked —”

  “All I want to know is,” Doogan censored Gus’s oratory. “Are they dangerous?”

  Gus shrugged. “I’ll never forget Fulvio’s story. I thought he was just spinning a tale for a wonderstruck kid. He said—”

  “Hey, kid,” Smelt said with a bite of impertinence. “Can you make this short? We’re kinda on a time schedule.”

  Everyone was giving him the hurry-up signal.

  Gus pegged his two thumbs onto his back pockets while the third arm perched on his hip. Brusquely he explained, “When Fulvio was traveling way, way up north, he unearthed an egg bigger than his head. After it hatched momma and poppa heagle came to collect the hatching, sorta desperate like. Fulvio has an uncanny talent in understanding animals, and they befriended him. Whether he was pulling my leg or telling a phenomenal fish tale, but he said they took him on lots of flights and even brought him home to these mountains, Tibbles too. That’s why he claims to know so much about the terrain.”

  They looked to Tibbles for confirmation concerning Fulvio’s fish tale.

  A jolly splutter leaked from the nodding bear, which escalated into a bemoaning wail. His beady eyes swept toward Zennith. The beloved horse would soon be fodder for the heagles.

  “Fulvio never mentioned them, and that doesn’t answer my question.” Doogan jammed his hand into his pocket and retrieved the cellular to glimpse the darkened screen. “We don’t know for certain if they’ll attack unprovoked.”

  “Why are you looking at the cell? Do you think someone will call?” Keeyla inquired, standing with her arm touching his.

  “Just hoping for a report, that’s all.”

  “By jingles!” Smelt announced, still peering into the firmament. “There’s more coming.”

  Everybody’s necks craned backward. The aerial creatures swooped, making shady patterns over the region.

  “We can’t worry about them now. We stick to the plan.” Doogan’s eyes drifted from the birds to his companions. “We on the same page?”

  ***

  “I refuse medical treatment,” Fulvio declared to Malkus. “I’d be remiss in wasting my last hours of breathing by experiencing excruciating skin piercings when it’s totally unnecessary.”

  Again he fingered the knife in his pocket. He didn’t know what Paniess was thinking by offering him the weapon. Even if he slit Malkus’s throat, he’d remain a prisoner. However, his death would leave Gee freedom to perform surgery devoid of interference.

  Fulvio invented his own strategy, and just as he was about to rise and take control, the main door to the jail opened. A teenager carrying a level tray over his arms halted in front of his cell.

  “Mr. McTullan, here’s your breakfast.” The boys voice shook. Balancing the tray on one arm, he managed a tinkling set of keys to unlock the cell.

  “Give that to me.” Ruffled, Malkus sauntered and slid the tray and the offerings from the boy’s arms.

  The boy turned, relocked the cell and stared at Fulvio.

  “Get out of here boy.” Malkus sounded belligerent. “What are you gawking at?”

  The boy’s eyes went from Malkus back to Fulvio. “I remember you, Mr. McTullan. Do you remember me?”

  Malkus dumped the tray loaded with food on the cot next to Fulvio.

  “I’m sorry, son, I don’t recall your handsome face.” Fulvio tugged his beard, staring at the teenager. “I’ve been gone over fifteen years. You would’ve been quite young when I departed.”

  “My name is Peter Jackle. But people used to call me Pip when I was little.” The boy hooked his thumbs over the pockets of his jeans. “That’s short for Pipsqueak.”

  “No—” Fulvio’s brows arched, widening his eyes. “You’re not that puny red-headed boy that I used to bounce on my knee, are you?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s me.” The boy stiffened his spine to appear taller.

  “You’ve grown into a fine specimen of a man.”

  Peter’s face beamed in a shade of pink.

  “How’s your parents?”

  “My dad’s still alive, thanks to you and Doogan. Except this guy here”—his right hand came up to grip the steel bars, his eyes turned to stone, peering at Malkus—“decided my dad doesn’t need his meds anymore.” He paused. “And my mom cooked you that meal. It’s not really breakfast. Everyone in the village shared their rations to give you fried steak, home-fries, eggs, and the last of the berries. We remember everything you and Doogan have done for us over the years. A group of us have been trying to keep the revolution alive. It slowed down after Larksen died.” His eyes softened. “They can’t hang you. It isn’t right, and I don’t care if I get in trouble for saying it.”

  “If you leave now Peter Jackle,” Malkus said, “I won’t report you and your cohorts to Management for rebellion.”

  “Pip, or maybe I should call you Peter now,” Fulvio said, rising to his full height. His mustache spreading as he grinned. “You be my voice to the citizens. I love them all. I never meant to leave them in the hands of a tyrant. I left to stop the butchering of unfortunate humans.”

  “We know.” Peter receded a step. “You’ve never forgotten us. Always giving us meat whenever you came to Tallas, and for this we’re grateful. We’re not stupid people. We know those mutants didn’t carry any plaguing diseases, because, if they did, you’d be dead, or mutated yourself by now, right?”

  “Absolutely, Peter. You’re not stupid. You’re a scholar in my eyes.”

  “Enough of this treasonous bullshit.” Malkus lunged for the boy. “Unlock this cell. I want out—Now.” His fingers curled around Peter’s shoulder, slamming the boys face into the steel bars.

  “Not so fast, Malkus.” Fulvio’s fingers knotted into the top of Malkus’s hair, bending his neck backward. And his right hand held the lethal knife against the column of his throat. “Release the boy, slowly.”

  Speechless, Malkus’s fingers slackened and Peter pushed away from the bars.

  “Fulvio,” Malkus spoke through barred teeth, “you’ll never get away with this. You’ll never make it out of Tallas alive.”

  “I don’t plan on it.” Fulvio said with candor. The knife bit into Malkus’s skin.

  “What do you want me to do?” Peter looked expectant. “Me and my gang, we can help.”

  “I need time, my boy.” Fulvio lodged Malkus’s body into his chest for a stronghold; the knife neared the man’s jugular. “Can you keep guard at the door for a while? If any Mediator tries to come in tell them the good doctor here is just finishing up.”

  “Sure, I can do that, but what else can I do?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a cellular device?”

  “No, but I bet Doctor Malkus has one.”

  “Well now, ain’t that a nice surprise,” Fulvio talked in a southern vernacular, learned from his years in the mountains. “Where’s it at, Malkus?” For good measure and to show him how grave the situation, he carved a divot in the man’s neck. Blood dribbled and leached into the collar of his white button-down shirt.

  “In my pocket.”

  “Which pocket?”

  “Right.”

  “Peter,” Fulvio asked, “can you come in here and reach
into his right pocket for me?”

  “Sure thing.” Peter unlocked the cell and slipped his hand into the physician’s pocket. “Now what?”

  “I need you to make a call. Can you do that for me?”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The elevator doors shimmied open. Startling Paniess, her father, and Clive blocked her path.

  “Where have you been?” Disgruntled, Pomfrey’s lips compressed. “Clive said you were checking on Doctor Riggley. Why are you coming from the lower levels? I know for a fact the doctor is in a room on the second floor.”

  Paniess eyed Clive and then to her father. “Roon…I mean Doctor Riggley isn’t doing well.” He wouldn’t like her calling the physician by his first name. It meant they’d become acquaintances, or something more. “Babbit said he won’t last the day.” The last thing she needed was for him to check on Rooney or want to speak to Babbit. “I was below because that’s where Babbit is assisting Doctor Merkle. He looked at my hand and said the bone’s healing fine.” She straightened her fingers, drawing their eyes to her hands.

  Pomfrey cast Clive a suspicious glance. “We have to prepare for the prisoner’s execution.” In a terse action, he linked her elbow and escorted her to the front of the Infirmary.

  “Father, you can say his name. The two of you are practically brothers.” By implying Pomfrey and Fulvio as brothers, she’d struck a chord. Her father jerked to a stop, along with Clive’s boots plodding from behind.

  “That—that traitor is not my brother.” Her father’s eyes clouded with thickening rage, and his fingers clamped like iron-bands on her arm. “Fulvio shunned me even before he left Tallas. His betrayal over the years has cost me plenty, and today, I get my revenge.” Her father looked deranged as the veins in his temple pulsated, augmenting them into purplish weals

  His eyelids winked repeatedly and then refocused on her face.

  “Sir—” Clive’s voice seemed to jar him into reality. “Citizens are beginning to walk toward the main square.”