Grantville Gazette 37 gg-37

by Коллектив Авторов

  "Blue Light Eight, Belle Three. Contact. Upper left mine tunnel. A red-haired woman lying curled up in a sunny patch, a few yards inside. We didn't see movement."

  "Belle Three, Blue Light Eight, roger and thank you."

  "Blue Light Eight, Rescue One Alfa copies all. Proceeding with plan."

  It was Olivia, right where Bess had said. And this was going to be a rock climbing job after all.

  There wouldn't have been any point trying to set up directly above the tunnel where Olivia was, even if the terrain allowed for it, which it didn't. Carlos and Will were already dropping their lines over the edge and hooking up. The fastest way was down to the lower row of anchors they'd set the other day, across along the fixed line, and then down the Wall setting anchors periodically so as to stay pulled in; it wouldn't do a lot of good to get down there and not be able to reach it. The firemen pulled a powder-driven stud gun out of their bag of tricks, to speed that up. Down went the rescue basket from the hoisting rig, with a long tag line to Will's harness.

  "Ready, Will?"

  "Yes, Carlos, all right."

  "One moment, gentlemen. Marcel, lend them your radio. What's your call sign?"

  "Rockhound."

  ****

  "What if she's dead, Will?" They were anchored about half way down to the tunnel entrance, taking a breather because they had to.

  "Hope, Carlos, hope! She must have gotten up onto her knees for a moment, otherwise how could she have been seen from below? Pray with me for a moment."

  They caught their breath and swung back into the job: drive an anchor, thread a ring, descend some more.

  The mine drift was small and still damp with the night's dew when Carlos and Will finally reached it. She was curled up in what little sunshine was still getting inside this late in the morning, facing the sun. Carlos was first in; he felt her bare ankle. Her flesh was cold, and she wasn't shivering. His heart sank.

  But her foot pulled back, and they heard a croak, "Go fuck yourself." She opened her eyes and looked; whether she really saw them was impossible to tell.

  "Livie! I'm here."

  "No. Bad dream. Carlos. Dead." Her voice was awful, a rasp.

  "Livie, I'm alive and I'm here."

  "No . . . no. Carlos is dead. He fell off the Wall."

  "Livie, the basket is coming. We'll put you into the basket and lower you to the ground." That was the plan, the only choice that made any sense. She needed the ambulance, and the ambulance could only come by road. Will took the radio and started talking to the firemen.

  "No. I am dead. Carlos is dead. Everyone is dead. We died when the Ring fell and went to hell."

  "Olivia, mi corazon, I live, we live."

  She looked at him, trying to focus, "Why are we all dead?"

  "Nobody's dead. You're alive."

  "This is hell."

  "No, mi corazon, anywhere you are is heaven."

  She blinked, then, and moaned, "Water, please. The stars are spinning."

  Will had the tag line hauled in by then. Carlos got out the pulley they'd sent in the basket. While Will held his canteen to her lips, Carlos took the stud gun one more time and anchored that pulley overhead so it would never come loose with Olivia's weight on it. Then he shot in some more of the things and rigged a ring, so he could rappel beside the basket and guide her down.

  Livie began screaming as soon as they started to move her. She hit Will so hard that she broke her wrist on the backswing against a ragged lump in the drift wall. That made it even more of a delicate job to get her settled in with a blanket around her and her climbing harness secured to the cable for a safety backup.

  Then everything was ready. Will got on the radio again. "Rescue One Alfa, this is Rockhound. Take up the slack, with utmost care."

  Over the edge, and down to the valley floor. Olivia didn't stop screaming until they reached the ground and the two female EMTs spoke to her.

  Will cast off the rescue team's pulley so they could haul up their gear, and came down Carlos's line. By then the ground teams were streaming back and gathering around the command post. Carlos turned in the walkie-talkie to Tipton, stood up on the cruiser's bumper, and waved his hands for silence. "If you haven't heard, Olivia's on the way to the hospital, and Will Oughtred and I are leaving in a minute to follow her. Thank you, thank you all, for everything you did. I think we got to her just in time, I hope we did. God bless you."

  ****

  Will had never really seen what Leahy Medical Center was like from the inside. For the first couple of days Carlos hardly left the hospital. The medical staff let him stay by her side, holding her for hours at a time, when it didn't interfere with treatment. Will sat with him when he could; it seemed to help, even if there wasn't much to say. Twice the doctors sent out the call for blood; Will's was acceptable, as was Paola's; Carlos' was not.

  Even in these terrible circumstances, William Oughtred's curiosity as to new things could never be extinguished; he learned the names of some of the means of keeping Olivia in this world-a defibrillator, a crash cart, an oxygen concentrator, Code Blue.

  September 6

  The sky above Grantville rumbled darkly, flashing with lightning. A blast of wind came rolling down through the treetops like a passing train. Carlos Villareal barely made it to his old truck before the thunderheads opened and let loose a torrent.

  He'd left before it was done. His soul ached. To hell with Bennet! He snorted at the irony of the thought. Yeah, any minute now. He took a breath and reached for the gearshift. The rain coldly hammered everything, the wind shoved the truck around, the windows seeped, and the tattered windshield wipers gamely did what they could. Here and there, through the blur, he glimpsed faint red taillights or yellowish headlights.

  It was a relief to arrive at Leahy Medical Center. He managed to snag a spot close to the front portico, and waited a couple of minutes to see if the squall would break; meanwhile, he was left with nothing to think about but-everything. Livie would be sure to tease him about the poetry of counting moments between lightning, thunder, and rain cells when he told her. Finally, he flung open the truck's door, slammed it behind him, and dashed through the sheets of rain to the front door.

  Carlos strode down the central hallway to physical therapy, taking barely enough notice of the people bustling past to avoid an actual collision. He leaned on the doorframe for a second or two with his head down, then slipped inside, dropped onto the oak bench by the doors, and settled in to watch the session.

  It was a bright room, the walls a cheery butterscotch. The tall south-facing windows, adorned with flowers cascading from the sills, brought in all the light possible in the gloom. Two of the cast iron stoves were going, taking the edge off the dankness.

  Busy as the place was, Carlos had eyes only for Olivia. She hadn't looked his way when he came in, and neither had the therapist she was conferring with. Well, he'd seen before how intense these sessions could be. It was just a miracle what physical therapy could do after the doctors finished. They'd told him her right arm ought to make a full recovery, or close to it. Knowing Olivia, she'd do the exercises for as long as it took.

  After a time, Will Oughtred slipped in next to him and stretched out his legs. "The hanging went very well. It was well-attended. I wondered that you did not stay."

  Carlos replied, bitterly, "No, I decided I didn't want to . . . but, Will, it was a good day for it."

  "The rain? The thunder and lightning? The hurley-burley?"

  "God's judgment, as you keep reminding me-any day is good for that . . . Look at her. Livie's making progress. She can bend her elbow pretty well now."

  "Yes, she's doing well." Will paused, watching. "That rocking motion seems to help-you said she does four hours a day, everything taken together? But how is her state?"

  "Her state of mind? It could be a lot better. I hope . . . At least the law sent Bennet to hell! Are the damned lawyers done discussing that damned Rothrock yet? Or are they still debating which circle
of Dante's inferno to send him to?"

  "Dante's inferno? You speak too casually, Carlos. Think what hell is. The absence, forever, of God. Bennet had no valid claim to mercy, so by his choices and guilt, he surely chose hell. We may never understand that choice. But truly, we both know, for Rothrock there are mitigating circumstances. If the legal proceedings and negotiations go as the newspapers predict, he's most unlikely to hang for his failings."

  Carlos slammed his fist down on his knee without even realizing it. "Goddamn Rothrock! After all the damage they did, he did, hanging's not enough! Nowhere near enough! That torn ligament they've got Livie working on over there didn't have to happen, never mind all the rest of it!"

  "Carlos, Carlos, softly, please, Olivia has not seen us yet. Have a bit more faith that justice will be done. In any case, death by hanging is the most severe sentence that court has in its hands-or cares to have. You know the great irony? Bennet would likely not have lived another year, perhaps half a year. He was deathly ill with both leukemia and syphilis.

  "Let's go sit over coffee, Carlos. We can talk more there."

  If there was anybody in Grantville Carlos could talk with about any of this, it was old Will Oughtred. He spread his hands for a moment and got up.

  Sternbock's Cafe, off the hospital's lobby

  Carlos stared down at the cup of espresso cradled between his hands. For all the attention he gave the stained glass window, welcoming as it was even on a day as gloomy as this one, it might as well have been bare mud brick.

  Will's voice pulled him back to his surroundings. "I've come to see much merit in what English law has become here, through the twists and turns of history. Rothrock's trial, I think, will be all about the law."

  Carlos chewed that over. "The law? I guess so. With that pile of paper you're spreading out, there sure isn't any shortage of evidence."

  "Just so. I have talked to certain people and umm . . . retrieved the information necessary to prepare a complete account of all this, a bit underhandedly, I admit." He gestured toward one stack. "Here we have the transcript from Bennet's trial."

  "You, a preacher man, underhanded?"

  "On rare occasion. This is essential, if I am to present a report to, um, Arundel. He wanted the intelligence about the law here-and the politics; he has since the beginning. However, this series of events raised his concern to something well past a general interest in ordinary matters or their political implications. Oh, and please, Carlos, I do appreciate your reticence as to my holy orders, with regard to the good ladies of the Episcopal Church."

  "Ffff! Sure, I got your back on that."

  "Thank you. As to Arundel, he harbors both an apprehension and a deep curiosity about, well, everything related to us here-not just the bald facts of our laws and politics, but the full meaning! He seems driven to grok it all-I like that word-from the United States Constitution's fourteenth amendment to what the SoTF has made of it."

  "The fourteenth . . . ? Oh, yeah, equal protection of the laws."

  "Among its other provisions." Will's eyes flashed for a moment. "In those few words we see the heart and soul of the entire social philosophy you brought us, not just the formalisms of law. Anyone who hopes to comprehend what the Ring of Fire brought to this world must understand this deeply. I've said as much to Arundel, a time or two."

  "Well, you took up citizenship-"

  "Two years ago-and I'm still doing as I agreed for Arundel. Well.

  "You know the words of that document, Carlos-but you've had those rights your entire life. They are new and very compelling to us-" Will stopped sorting papers to look across the table at him. "Just as your reaction to a public hanging is odd to those of this century."

  "Those rights are the only thing worth fighting for . . . but I have trouble dealing with a public hanging. I'm not against the death penalty, but we put that behind closed doors a long time in our past. Sweet Jesus, I didn't need to watch it to know it was done."

  "Mmm? You do trust in justice, then."

  Carlos looked back at him, and waved an acknowledgment.

  "But to return to this business, absorbing an essay on our laws here is one thing, fully grasping their logic and origin is another. By the light of German law heretofore, I'm certain Arundel will find it altogether astonishing that because of your old constitution Bennet had the legal right not to incriminate himself, and for that reason, there never was any thought of torturing him for a confession." He sipped at his espresso. "Well, Spee's Cautio Criminalis must have echoed down the centuries. I shall advise him to read it closely, if he hasn't already done so."

  "Damn right, he should. It's enough to curl your hair." Carlos had read the English translation in the newspaper, during the witchcraft uproar a couple of years earlier. "The crap they used to do. Still do, in a lot of places." He took a gulp from his coffee.

  Will set down his cup and looked at Carlos. "That aside, there are other things that concern us. In particular, that limestone cave up on the Wall."

  "Huh? I'd just as soon we'd never seen it."

  "I can well understand. However, I went there with a party of the mineral survey a few days ago. We were able to get in further than when it was first discovered, through a narrow passage Rothrock and Bennet hacked open in their search. In the chamber beyond, we saw impressively large calcite crystals."

  That broke through Carlos's sour mood. "Oh, yeah? That ought to make the optics crowd happy."

  "It would if they were clear, but if any of that kind have been found in the Germanies, I haven't heard. Still, some were beautifully colored. Doctor Jones was rubbing his hands with glee as we shone our lights around. He turned to me and exclaimed, 'Excellent, Oughtred, we must publish!' Here, Carlos, take a look." He took a small velvet bag from his leather case and spread out a sprinkling of translucent crystals, some almost white and some reddish, the largest the size of a man's finger.

  Carlos looked close, then picked up a couple of them and turned them in the light. "Nice. Looks like calcite, all right. You sure, though?"

  "I tested with acid. Little else would react the same way."

  "Yeah. Too bad it's not clear calcite. Or clear quartz, for that matter. They'd be a lot more useful."

  "Yes, well, who knows what else we might find in the lower strata of the Zechstein? But here's the thing. As I said, some of those crystals are rather beautiful, and could draw buyers for that reason alone. Rothrock had no idea what they actually are, but he filed for the right to mine the deposit. He owns it all, or holds a lease, or some other legal formula, I'm not precisely sure. Perhaps it would bring enough to pay a share of what your dear lady's care is costing."

  "Sue the bastard? Well, why the hell not? If the claim's worth anything. I've got no idea what mining law is like by now."

  "Or if his defense lawyers fail to consume it all." A rueful expression flickered across Will's face as he put away the stones and laid a notepad where they'd been. "And now, let's try to impose some kind of order on this mountain of words in front of us."

  The second floor

  It was very late when Carlos came into Olivia's room. She was already fitfully asleep.

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead lightly. It was her soul that mattered; her state of mind tore at him. She twitched restlessly in her dream. He brushed a long curl off her face. Olivia was perfectly beautiful, ageless in a way. He rested his weight on the cot they'd put there for him. Cheerless as it was, it was beside Livie.

  He had to persuade her to come home. He would try again in the morning, but gently. He understood her reasons; Bennet had invaded their home and made a wreck of it, besides all his other crimes, but he was finally gone for good. Yet, in her mind, Leahy Medical was safest; it was full of people at all hours, and always prepared for trouble. He hoped she would come 'round, and soon. Her physical injuries had nearly healed.

  But after what had happened, he could not, would not, rush their life back together. He would try to sleep. The night terrors woul
d start soon enough; Olivia's or his, then sometimes both of them would wake nearly screaming. Then Carlos would hold Olivia on her hospital bed until sleep came again.

  She never remembered anything of the dreams, but he always remembered. For her, Carlos would always remember.

  Morning

  Carlos stopped short in the doorway when he caught sight of the manuscript stacked beside Will Oughtred's portable typewriter. The old man must have been sitting there in the cafe all night, going without a break. Carlos had agreed to proofread, but he hadn't expected anything as massive as this. It wasn't just Will's report, either. It was the table full of documents and books it had to be fact-checked against.

  He took a couple of seconds to get his face back under control, then walked in. You kept your promises, if you wanted to keep your friends.

  Will lifted the morning newspaper. "They've decided, Carlos. Rothrock is charged as an 'accessory after the fact to kidnapping and rape,' a far lesser offense than Bennet's."

  Carlos blew up all over again. "The bastard! He went up there and saw her, and left her there! He didn't say a word to anybody, not even an anonymous note-he just plain left her there! Goddamn Rothrock-I could break his lousy neck!"

  "As understandable as that would be, it would gain you and your family nothing, my friend, but to put your own head in a noose. Do not succumb to the devil's temptations. Let it be the jury that pronounces lawful judgment upon him."

  Carlos just growled.

  Will half-smiled for a moment. "That aside, there's this report to Arundel to finish; he has been asking when it would be complete since his first letter after correspondence resumed. I'd like nothing better than to deluge him with copies of all of this."

  "Tell me he has some better reason than morbid curiosity-"

  "I can tell you this much-what I suspect is true and what actually is true might not coincide entirely, but he's maneuvering for something, I am certain of it. He is nearly always planning and doing more than one thing, if over twenty years of acquaintance is any guide. But whatever might be in his mind, it will be with relief that I see this off by courier to my connection at Leiden."