They walked up the hall, out the doors. The cold hit them fiercely; she turned her face into him, thin arms tightening around his waist.
They walked down the hill toward the staging point.
Night was squeezing in on dusk, cutting visibility.
By the guard station, TD glowered from the back of an unmarked car. A frayed wick protruded from the bottom of the closed door – the end of the nylon cord securing his ankles. When he spotted Leah, he blanched.
The car pulled away, clearing their field of vision to the staging point.
Will turned, his face red and chapped from crying, and did a pronounced double take. Tim and Leah high-stepped over the fallen gate. She stumbled a bit, weak on her feet.
Tannino grasped Dray's shoulder, and she turned. He saw the breath go out of her, saw her shoulders lower a good three inches with the exhale.
Will was wiping his face, already directing traffic as if he had jurisdiction. "Ambulance. We need an ambulance."
Three rescue vehicles sat parked and ready within ten feet of him, but he didn't seem to notice them. Rooch and Doug approached on either side of him.
Will stroked his daughter's cheek. His face crumbled, and then his hand spread over his eyes like a mask. He turned away, took a deep breath. "We need an ambulance."
Wheels crackled through the mud. Two doors slammed in unison, then the paramedics opened the back of the ambulance.
Rooch grasped Leah's shoulder, starting to guide her to the ambulance, but she wouldn't let go of Tim.
Tim started to move her, but she held him harder. He tried to pry her off gently. His throat was thick, but he managed the word "Go."
She gripped him tighter.
Will stepped between Rooch and Doug, splitting them. His arm slid alongside Tim's behind Leah's back. Tim leaned, shifting her sagging weight to Will.
She looked up at Tim, her green-gray eyes frightened, and he tried to steel her with his look.
"Go."
The arm around his waist relaxed.
Will pulled back, drawing her gently to him. The paramedics were at his side, helping them to the rear of the ambulance, reassuring her.
They loaded her up, and Will ducked into the back. The doors slammed. The tires churned mud and found their hold.
Tim watched the diminishing white square until it faded into darkness.
"Go," he said.
Dray was at his side, the wind whipping a band of hair across her forehead. Her curled fingers found it and tucked it behind an ear. The APC's headlights lit her eyes magnificent green, liquid emerald, a shade he'd never seen anywhere else in thirty-four years and counting.
He looked down at the faint bulge beneath her sweatshirt and felt his throat tighten up, the pressure building behind his eyes. She was stepping to him already, and he fell into her, his face bent to the side of her head, buried in silky hair and the scent of jasmine.
"Let's get you home," she said.
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The Program tr-2 Page 43
