Ashes, Ashes aa-1

by Jo Treggiari

  Aidan spoke in a whisper. “I can see the tower light.” He pointed. The red beam seemed to flicker through the tracery of clouds against the paling sky.

  “If we head for that, we should end up at the bridge,” Del said.

  “You lead,” Lucy said.

  Del gnawed the tip of her thumb. “Last chance to back out,” she said, and then laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound, but forced. She adjusted her quiver so it hung within reach of her hand and tapped the string of her bow until it twanged. Feeling suddenly breathless, Lucy unzipped her jacket and felt inside, assuring herself that her knife was still in her pocket. Her grip on her spear was clammy. Her boots felt as if they were filled with concrete. The ground cover was almost nonexistent here. They’d be in the open. Dawn was coming, and the fog was starting to disperse. The red light blinked like the eye she’d imagined it to be. They should be crawling along the ground, not walking three abreast like this, as if they were on a Sunday stroll.

  They reached the bridge. It joined up with the road to the left, and then rose out of the bank of mist and curved twenty feet above the lake at its highest point. That was where they would be the most visible even if they kept to the sides. It was wide enough for a vehicle, made of gray concrete with high steel guard rails and a box of welded steel at the end, which supported it. The fog made it appear as though it were a length of black silk unwinding in space. The three of them would look as if they were walking across the water, Lucy thought, peering ahead, and they would be highly visible.

  The stone building, a low and squat block, and the tower, tall and angled, occupied most of the space on the island. A cistern dwarfed by the tower perched on the roof, and some thick pipes jutted out at the side. A whip of black smoke hung in the air. There were no trees, just vast half-moon parking lots in the front, completely empty of cars, and two narrow, rectangular lawns with a dozen park benches. Two or three tall streetlamps burned with a flickering orange light as if they were losing power. There were no lights on behind the windows. Lucy wondered where the white vans were kept. Maybe they were out on a sweep. She remembered the news footage from here. The hospital, with its gleaming floors, bright lights, hordes of doctors in white coats, and smiling nurses, had looked so different from the hospital her family had died in. That had been ill-lit, with gurneys crowded in the halls or pushed into alcoves, the smells of vomit and blood seeping into her nostrils, the floors filthy with soiled bedclothes and pillows piled in heaps in the corners, and rarely a doctor to be seen. Lucy had had to wander for hours searching for her parents, checking charts and toe tags, before grabbing a nurse and forcing her to help. The blood drummed in her head.

  Del stepped onto the bridge first. “Let’s go,” she said. “We’ve got about an hour of dark left.”

  “Keep to the sides. Watch for headlights,” Aidan said. “Once we’re across, we’ll make for the side entrance. Right, Del?”

  She nodded. “That’s the way I came out.”

  Lucy could hear the suppressed excitement in Aidan’s voice. Was she the only one who was scared? She put her foot down hesitantly, as if she were afraid the bridge would crumble under her weight. She had never felt so terrified. They were on their way to a place where people disappeared without a trace. All except for Del, who’d managed to escape, and Leo, who’d basically been murdered. She tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat. Aidan glanced back at her and smiled. She hefted the spear to her left hand, and then switched it back.

  Lucy forced herself to move, sliding her hand along the guardrail. She watched the mist swirl around her feet like a net. It reminded her of a nightmare, glue or quicksand trapping her as she tried to run. She looked back. The grove was in shadow. The salt-poisoned pines looked like skeletal fingers. The mudflats were as barren and pocked as the surface of the moon. And still she would rather have been back there than walking across this bridge, the sound of their boots muffled yet loud in the silence. There was a soft, strangling quality to the air. It felt heavy and dank, and it suffocated her like a tangle of blankets wrapped around her head.

  Del had stopped at the point where the bridge began to arch down toward the island shore. When Lucy and Aidan were a couple of paces away she swiveled around to look at them, then turned back and narrowed her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her body as though she was cold, or in pain. Her face was hidden.

  “Why are you stopping?” Lucy whispered.

  Del didn’t answer her.

  Lucy was conscious of an industrial hum coming from ahead. It throbbed, and she could feel it through the soles of her boots.

  “Generator,” said Del.

  “Is the entrance to the left or right of the front door?” Aidan asked.

  Del hunched her shoulders. She scrubbed one hand over her mouth. She was very pale. Before Lucy could say anything, she’d crossed to the rails opposite and leaned over the edge. They heard the sounds of her vomiting.

  Aidan waited until the heaving had stopped and then walked over to her with the bottle of water in his hand. He held it out to her, standing silently while she drank and splashed her face with a little water. She took a deep breath.

  “Are you all right?” Lucy started to say. Aidan shook his head.

  “Right or left?” he asked Del again. She stared at him blankly, teeth gripping her bottom lip. Her hand was frozen against her face. Her fingers trembled.

  “Right,” she said, taking off so fast, her hood blew back.

  Aidan and Lucy exchanged worried glances and followed.

  Their steps echoed on the concrete. Del walked ahead with her head up, no attempt at concealment. She took a straight line across the parking lot, her shadow stretching ahead of her on the ground. Lucy reached into her jacket pocket and loosened the knife in its sheath. Her eyes darted everywhere looking for a flicker of movement, expecting at any moment to see the Sweepers in their white suits, and the dogs racing like specters toward them. She felt a clamminess grip the back of her neck. Only Aidan’s presence by her side gave her the strength to continue.

  Now they were crossing the lawn and all was silent again. Pools of darkness thrown by the sides of the building shrouded them. A caged light threw a feeble beam. Moths and mosquito hawks bumbled into it occasionally, combusting with tiny pops against the hot bulb. The door was directly beneath it, a plain steel door with a silver ball handle and a keyed lock above it. Del muttered something. Lucy watched as she reached out for the knob and twisted it. It clicked and the door swung open.

  Inside there was a single light. A bare bulb, flickering and emitting an erratic hum like the rest of the lamps outside. A staircase wound upward like the inside of a conical seashell. Lucy smelled the tang of iodine and some kind of powerful cleaner.

  “Three or four floors up,” Del whispered, leading the way. Their steps echoed. The light behind them faded to a pinprick and then disappeared. Their breathing sounded as loud as the ocean. The dark, complete now, felt like a pulse against Lucy’s skin, it was so thick and impenetrable. She walked with her hands in front of her face, as if she could push it away. They reached a landing, paused, unsure of which way to go. She felt Aidan on one side, Del on the other. She heard the click first, then the buzzing like a hundred angry bees. Powerful incandescent lights flashed on, blinding them.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE OCTAGON TOWER

  “I’m sorry,” Del said, and stepped away.

  “Why—” Lucy started to ask.

  More lights blazed, so bright and white they hurt Lucy’s eyes. The generator grumbled and then hummed at full roar.

  They stood on a large octagonal landing with doors leading off each of the sides. The stairway climbed on upward. At the very top was a skylight, and through it Lucy could see the last of the stars winking out in the dawn sky.

  A woman in a white lab coat stepped through the door opposite them, followed by a troop of hazmat-suited Sweepers. Helmets shielded their faces, and they held Tasers pointed outward.


  Aidan notched an arrow and trained it on the closest Sweeper. Lucy swung her spear into position. Del darted forward. Her bow came up and struck Lucy’s spear so hard, she felt the vibration in her knuckles. The spear clattered to the ground. Lucy grabbed for it, crouching low, and Del’s foot slammed down, crunching Lucy’s wrist against the linoleum. With a cry, she pulled loose, ignoring the sting of chafed skin. Still on her knees, she lunged at Del, and the girl stepped back and to the side, easily evading her. Lucy stared up at her face. It was like a mask.

  Two of the Sweepers moved closer, pinning Lucy against the stair railing. Blue flames surged and spat from the black boxes they held. One of them kicked her spear across the floor.

  Aidan grunted. His bow swept from side to side as he tried to sight on a target and steadied at a point between a helmet visor and the collar of a man’s suit. Lucy saw him blink as a drop of sweat trickled into his eye.

  Del put her hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s not you they want. It’s her.” She faced the woman in the white coat.

  “This is her, Dr. Lessing. This is Lucy Holloway.”

  Aidan moved in Lucy’s direction.

  Del gripped the hood of Aidan’s sweatshirt and yanked him back toward her. He struggled to keep his bow steady. “What are you doing, Del?” he asked through clenched jaws.

  “It’s complicated,” she told him. “But it’s for a good reason, I swear. Please, Aidan.” Her hands ran up and down his arms.

  “No.”

  “She’s just one girl. What does she matter?”

  He shook her grip loose, shoved her backward with his shoulder. She hit the steel railing with a thud. Aidan’s eyes were furious.

  “I don’t know you,” he said.

  A moan of pain escaped Del. She stood apart, rubbing her arm. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. With one last glance, she turned away from him.

  “I brought her,” she said to the woman. “Now, let the kids go. Like you promised!” She spat the last sentence out.

  Dr. Lessing smiled and stepped forward. She swept her gaze over them. Her teeth were very even and small, her soft brown hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and her brown eyes seemed warm and friendly. She laughed. It was a merry sound, and it threw Lucy off balance. This woman reminded her of her favorite fourth-grade teacher.

  “You’re being overly dramatic, Delfina,” she said. “As usual. The children are being well looked after. They’ve been awaiting your return, in fact.” Her glance traveled from Aidan to Lucy. Del made an explosive sound of frustration.

  “How quickly you’ve reverted to savages,” the woman said in the same light tone. “There’s an article in here somewhere. ‘Primitive Response to Traumatic Stress Syndrome,’ perhaps?” She sounded amused. “Your weapons are hardly necessary.”

  “What about the Tasers?” Aidan yelled. His arms were trembling with the effort of keeping his bowstring flexed. Beads of perspiration ran down his forehead.

  Three of the Sweepers turned to face him. Dr. Lessing lifted her hand and looked toward the burly man standing to her left. His hands were bare. Lucy noticed the red hairs bristling from his knuckles and his chewed nails—small details that seemed magnified. She tried to see his face, but the visor was too dark. It was disorienting, like trying to see to the bottom of a murky pond. She could tell that the Sweeper standing on the other side was staring at her. A woman, she thought. Medium height, plump, the ends of her blond hair sticking out from under her helmet.

  “Simmons,” the doctor said. It sounded like an order, though she said no more than the man’s name. The Sweeper with the red hair on his fingers jerked his head at the others. The other Sweepers stepped back, holding their semicircular formation.

  “Better?” she asked. “Come, now. Surely we can be civilized? You haven’t been living in the Wilds for so long?”

  Lucy looked at Aidan. She was separated from him by twenty feet of gleaming marble tile floor. Two Sweepers still guarded her, their Tasers primed. They were so close, she could smell ozone frying. Del hovered next to the staircase leading down. Her bow was shouldered, the arrows stowed in her backpack. Lucy stared at her, willing the girl to meet her eyes. Del ducked her head. Her hair hung across her cheek. Tears tracked down her cheeks. Lucy felt no pity. She wondered how Aidan was feeling. One glance at his contorted expression was enough to tell her. He had gone red with anger, but as she watched him, his countenance whitened. She could see the muscles bunch in his jaw as he ground his teeth together.

  She turned to face Dr. Lessing. Again the name stirred a memory. “What do you want with me?”

  “I wanted to meet you. To talk with you.”

  “Why?”

  Dr. Lessing smiled again. She smiled a lot. “There are things I’d like to ask you, but not here, standing in a foyer. Come to my office. I can make some coffee and we can chat.”

  Lucy glanced at Aidan, who had not lowered his weapon. “And what about them?”

  “If they’d like to join us for coffee, that would be fine. Otherwise, Delfina can go.”

  “Aidan?”

  “Aidan is supposed to come with me!” Del said.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” He cast her such a look of loathing that she backed up.

  “We’d like to check Aidan. Make sure he’s healthy. I can’t help but notice he’s favoring his left arm.”

  “Like you ‘checked’ Leo?” Lucy said.

  Dr. Lessing spread her hands. “Leo was ill. He carried the plague, and it flared up. We tried to help him.”

  “That’s crap and you know it!” Aidan said. “You attacked the camp!”

  “We came to the camp to help you. We were attacked before we could explain.”

  “You brought weapons,” Lucy pointed out.

  “There are wild animals everywhere. You know that.”

  “People have been disappearing for months, and it all leads back to this place,” Aidan said.

  Dr. Lessing transferred her gaze to him. “Is this some kind of conspiracy theory?” she said gently. “Look at us. I am just one doctor. These people are here to keep the hospital and patients safe. Many of my staff lost loved ones. We help people; we don’t harm them.”

  “Leo was healthy until he came here. He was the strongest person I knew.”

  “The disease lies dormant. In birds, in rats, in people. Sometimes for months. He was already too far gone. We tried to sedate him, but he fought, injured one of my men and got out of the building. He escaped into the Wilds, and we couldn’t find him.”

  “He died,” Lucy said. She had a sour taste in her mouth.

  “I am sorrier than I can say,” said Dr. Lessing.

  “What about the dogs? You use dogs to hunt people,” Aidan said. His grip on his bow faltered. With an effort he raised it up to his shoulder. The string pressed against his cheek, and Lucy saw the livid mark there, red against the whiteness around his lips.

  “The dogs are a search-and-rescue team. They are trained to find people after a disaster. They track humans by the scent of their blood. It’s quite amazing, really,” she said with another wide smile. “They can detect the differences.”

  Lucy shook her head. She was too tired to figure out what was a lie and what was the truth. This woman had an answer for everything, and her voice was calm. She sounded concerned. She looked like someone you confided in.

  “There really isn’t much choice, Lucy. You’re outnumbered, after all.” She said this with another broad, white-toothed smile. She was teasing them.

  “What’ll happen to them if I go with you?”

  “Delfina can go home right away. Aidan will be looked after, as I said before. We’ll give him a thorough checkup. I’d hate to think the plague was incubating in your camp. There are all those children. Think what a tragedy it would be!”

  Lucy hesitated. This rang true. Wasn’t she worried that she might be a carrier herself?

  Dr. Lessing nodded to Simmons. The Sweepers b
acked up even farther and lowered their Tasers.

  “I just want to talk to you, Lucy,” Dr. Lessing said. “You are a very special girl.”

  “Why do you say that?” Lucy said, suddenly nervous. Could they know that she hadn’t been vaccinated?

  “I know all about you,” she said. “You’re a survivor.”

  “Can I get the kids now?” Del demanded. Her nails were ragged horrors, the tender pads of her fingers torn and chewed.

  “Of course,” Dr. Lessing said. “You know the way, dear. Your friends will be right behind you. Emi and Jack are on the next floor down. They’ll be so excited to see you. They’ve been ready since six o’clock this evening. So eager!” She laughed again. “Kelly, go with Delfina and help her, won’t you?”

  The blonde Sweeper stepped forward. She passed by quite close to Lucy, and once again she had the clear sense that the woman was staring at her from behind her dark visor.

  Del muttered, “Del, not Delfina. You’re not my friggin’ mother.” She cast one last, pleading look at Aidan, which he ignored, and ran down the stairs. They heard the intake of breath as she stumbled, the click of the door opening and then closing one floor down. Kelly followed at a slower pace.

  Lucy didn’t want to be separated from Aidan, but it seemed silly to insist on it after Dr. Lessing had shown them to two rooms adjoining each other. “Simmons is an EMT—one of two on my staff. Kelly is the other,” she said, opening the closest door. Inside the small room was an examining table, an IV drip, cabinets, and an armchair. “He can check Aidan’s arm. Or is it your ribs?”