His tall friend held one arm close to his chest while the other held a blood-splattered pistol. Pain shortened his breathing and his grim expression twisted Henry’s insides. Stern had never smiled much but now the snarl of his lips, tensed shoulders, and forceful tone denoted a deep anger. They hadn’t stopped the car. He didn’t even need to ask. Henry rested his forehead on the cold glass.
“I tried. I really tried.”
“So did we. He ran over Joshua.” Stern moved closer to the window. “Maniel is down there too, trying to save him. You said Omar was dead?”
“Andeal yelled it to me.”
Stern took a deep breath and his gaze went north. Henry wondered what he could be staring at so intently, but he never had the chance to ask. The other rebel sighed.
“Now he’s off to those secret labs no one ever found.”
His words sunk into Henry like one powerful fist. Not of dread and powerlessness, though. As Stern brooded over their failure to stop Galen Clarin, Henry realized this wasn’t over. Someone had found the laboratory compound. Someone could lead them straight to Andeal. How had he not thought of it sooner?
“I’m an idiot.”
Henry Schmitt did not explain his declaration. He spun on his heels and ran back to the microphone.
* * *
Arguing voices—one of them muffled—tugged at Vermen’s mind, bringing him back to consciousness. A thick haze slowed his mind but he forced his brain to concentrate on the words he could not decipher. Meaning was assigned to them as he emerged from his torpor, until Hans realized they were arguing about…fireworks? He opened his eyes with a frown and tilted his head to the side. Lungvist was sitting on one side of his stretcher while Treysh was in a corner of the ambulance, a mask over her mouth. Whiter than before, too, which made her bruises even more obvious. David held his hand, squeezing it whenever the rebel girl irked him—quite often, in short. They were going on about whether any illegal fireworks were left in her home. Treysh seemed to think the idea Lungvist could’ve found them all ridiculous.
“Do you two ever stop?” Vermen asked.
They did. Both fell silent the moment he spoke up. David let go of his hand, pressing his lips together and forcing a smile on them. After two blessed seconds of silence, Treysh broke the peace.
“It’s not my fault your lieutenant is such a pretentious know-it-all.”
“He’s your lieutenant, soldier. Watch what you say of ranking officers.” She must really get on David’s nerves, if he couldn’t stay calm enough to stop her from breaking their cover. This was not the kind of mistake he made. “How’s my leg?”
The wracking pain had morphed into a persistent throb since he’d lost consciousness, but he suspected that was the painkillers, not actual healing. Neither Treysh nor David dared an answer, confirming his doubts. The paramedic in the back with them leaned forward. “We’ll get you on an operation table and remove the bullets soon. It should manage. We arrived in time.”
The intense wave of relief made Vermen dizzy. It should manage. He had seen soldiers broken by the loss of a leg and he did not want to be one of them. His leg should be fine. They had arrived in time. Not only had he avenged Seraphin, he would live to tell the tale with barely more than a scratch. How strange, that both of them could take down a general in his base and survive it. It should not have been.
Hans thanked the paramedic, then touched David’s wrist. “The pistol?” he whispered.
His lieutenant nodded. He did not need to say more. Vermen gave him a slight smile.
Then a familiar voice burst out of the radio on the ambulance’s dash, covering the machines’ regular beep with a desperate warning. As they listened to Henry plead for the protesters to stop Galen’s car, Vermen thought of Maniel. She had to be in that group, a scarf covering her mouth, cardboard shield in hand. Ready to rescue her husband. Could they block the vehicle in time? He exchanged a worried look with David and Treysh but none of them commented. The paramedic gave a disapproving grunt, then called to the driver. “As long as they don’t try to stop our ambulance.”
“Let them try.”
Treysh interrupted their discussion with a long and deep cough. It sounded wetter to Vermen, like the insides of her lungs were coming off, hundreds of thousands of bloody cells she was trying to spit out. Or perhaps his painkillers were messing with his brain. He took a deep breath. The occasional bump in the ambulance’s speedy flight through the street reverberated in his wounded knee and reminded him his current ease was artificial. He could feel himself slipping back into darkness as the silence stretched on. Then Henry’s voice returned, even more urgent and strong than before.
“David, we need you here. We need you now.”
With a slight frown, Hans glanced at Lungvist. Had he been in contact with Henry? Even his cobwebbed mind could see how that linked the president and Schmitt together, how it made perfect sense. And really, who else could this ‘David’ be? Lungvist had tensed, teeth gritted together. He seemed to hesitate. His dark gaze went to Hans’ leg and Vermen understood.
He would need a vehicle. To get there fast, to go after Galen if he’d escaped. But if the ambulance never reached the hospital, Treysh and him might pay the highest price. Vermen swallowed hard. He brought to his mind the absolute terror the thought of returning to the labs had provoked in Andeal, ages ago when Hans had tried to escape, and he drew all the courage he could from it.
“This guy sure doesn’t need a courier,” he said. “That’s a clear message if I ever heard one.”
Then he gave David a meaningful look. Lungvist took a deep breath and wheezed out, “It sure is.”
They both turned to Treysh, who answered with an excited giggle. David set his hand on the pistol hilt at his side and Vermen recognized the bone handle and red string. The paramedic caught on just as his lieutenant sprang into action. He had time for a “wait a minute…” before Treysh jumped him and smacked her own firearm against his temple. David moved behind the passenger seat and pointed Seraphin’s skeptar at the driver. Vermen wondered if he realized it had no more bullets inside.
“My apologies, but we are trying to stop the ambulance. Do it and leave.”
Hans couldn’t see his lieutenant but he heard the man’s smirk in his tone. So did the medic, judging from the strength with which he hit the driver’s wheel.
“Your buddy’s legs will—”
“I’m aware,” interrupted Vermen. “Stop the ambulance.”
The vehicle finally slowed, until it came to a full stop. Treysh dragged the second paramedic out and offered them both a cheerful apology and her thanks before she climbed back up. Lungvist flipped the emergency sirens on as she slammed the doors behind her. The ambulance lurched forward as David hit the pedal, the electric motor’s whirring loud as they gained speed. Hans Vermen closed his eyes and tried to ignore the nagging throb in his knee. It was nothing. They were going to save Andeal.
Perhaps he wouldn’t escape killing Omar without a scratch after all.
* * *
When an ambulance came to a screeching halt next to Joshua’s broken and bleeding body, a deep knot unwound in Henry’s stomach. His friend’s luck hadn’t abandoned him yet. Someone had called the emergencies and the paramedics would help Maniel. She still bandaged the wounds she could with ripped clothes, blood spatters on her sleeves.
Then Lieutenant David Lungvist sprang down from the driver’s seat and Henry realized that someone was him. He stared at the pock-faced soldier, his mouth wide open. Maniel jumped to her feet and reached for her weapon.
“No, no, he’s with us,” Henry said. “This is David Lungvist. He knows where the labs are.”
Her gaze flickered between the two men and she relaxed. “Tell me you have morphine back there.”
“No idea.” An amused smile played on the lieutenant’s lips. “I have a captain with his knee busted and a pestulance-ridden green-haired girl but as far as medical supplies are concerned, you’ll have to take a look yourself.”
Henry’s heart leapt into this throat. A green-haired girl! He’d done it. Lungvist had gotten Treysh out of prison and saved her. He sprinted toward the back of the ambulance and grabbed the handle, pulling the doors open with great enthusiasm. The second part of Lungvist’s description sunk in as Henry’s gaze fell upon Treysh’s sweaty white face, her obvious wounds and the mask held to her mouth. Pestulance-ridden? He didn’t climb inside. What did he mean, pest-ridden? What had they done?
“Oh, hey Henry!” Treysh exclaimed, with just as much energy as she’d always had. “We heard you on the radio. Need a lift? Hop in.”
“I…yeah. Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”
He pulled himself into the ambulance, wondering if she knew all of this was his fault. Had Lungvist told her how he’d discovered her involvement with the rebels? Would she forever hate him?
“Apologies accepted. I can’t believe you’d send this jerk after me not once, but twice? He is the worst at rescues, I tell you.”
Before she could say another word, a terrible cough forced Treysh to bend over. Henry listened to the deep, wet sound with growing horror. How had Andeal described Lenz’s illness? He took a step forward and reached for her, hoping to give her a measure of comfort. Treysh waved his hand away.
“You should stay back. Wheeze-man thinks I’m super contagious.”
It felt like a stab to the heart. Henry stopped breathing for a moment, blood drained from his face, and the world’s noises seemed so distant. They had given it to her. For the second time in his life, a woman who mattered to him—no, a woman he loved—was dying from one of Galen Clarin’s plagues.
“I don’t want to stay back.”
He did anyway. Despite his petulant tone, he remained rooted to the spot. Treysh’s bright gaze met his. She wasn’t scared in the slightest. She clapped her hands together and he was certain she was grinning under that mask.
“I’m glad you’re here with me. Now let’s go save Andeal, shove all the drugs in the world into my body, and then launch the most beautiful firework show the Union has ever seen!”
Lungvist climbed into the ambulance before Henry could answer. He let out an exasperated sigh, then put his hand on Henry’s shoulder.
“Go sit up front and make room. We’ll get your Burgian on a stretcher beside Hans. That way he can join our club of potential carriers of Galen’s most recent gift. It’ll be fantastic.”
Henry couldn’t help but note that despite his sarcasm, he had already risked having Vermen near Treysh for a long period. The captain didn’t seem conscious at the moment but all his vitals beeped normally. A glance at his bloodied knee and hip was enough to tell Henry he couldn’t be called healthy either. He jumped out of the ambulance and ran to the front seat, sitting down as Lungvist and Stern helped Maniel heave Joshua in. A third person—Alex, they introduced themselves—stayed with Stern to protect the Tower.Although Henry’s head still buzzed from the strange shock, he couldn’t help but smile when Treysh exclaimed “You have to be Maniel!”
Despite the two wounded men next to them and Maniel’s frantic work on Joshua, despite Lungvist’s dangerous driving through Reverence’s streets as they made for the secret labs, emergency sirens on, Maniel and Treysh picked up a conversation long overdue in the back of the ambulance, talking like two old friends who had a lot of time to catch up on.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Andeal’s first hint of consciousness was the stinging pain in his abdomen. He fought against it, knowing on instinct he didn’t want to return, didn’t want to step back into this world, to no avail. Cold stone against his back drew him further out of the darkness, and all the hurts across his body soon followed. He shifted with a moan. His left hand slipped from his lap to the ground and sharp agony flared from his palm. Andeal straightened with a gasp, panting, then swallowed hard.
They’d left him alone in a posh office, on the ground behind a large black desk, propped against a wall. They’d manacled his feet but left his hands free. Two bookshelves stretched on either side of him. The walls were white and empty, there were no windows, and the only door was as dark as the desk. The latter had a stylized lamp but a powerful neon illuminated the room at the moment. For a long time, Andeal remained put, his gaze drifting across the numerous titles. All science handbooks on genetic manipulations, different techniques, or treatise on virology and microbiology. Sometimes a binder broke the monotony of wide, colorful spines with overly serious titles. Andeal stretched his hand to slide one out, curious. Judging from the ton of papers inside, it was either articles or correspondences with other scientists. Andeal pushed it back where it belonged.
This had to be Galen’s office. Perhaps he should smear blood all over Galen’s precious books, just to annoy him. Andeal’s heart tightened into a painful ball at the thought. No matter how small the slight, Galen would give it back tenfold. All he needed as a reminder was a glance at the shredded flesh in the middle of his left hand. He tried to flex his fingers and the influx of pain made him choke. They only twitched. All but his pinkie, which folded, and the ring finger, which moved a little.
Andeal’s gaze caught on the remarkable absence on his finger and a powerful wave of nausea climbed into his throat. The simple leather band he’d exchanged with Maniel was gone. Galen had taken his only memento of her. Andeal brought his legs closer and stifled a shaky moan. He leaned his forehead on his knees, fighting against the tears and anger. He must have taken it after they knocked him out in the car.
Henry’s attempt to save him in the staircase had given him a new surge of hope. He remembered discovering the mass of protesters outside, armed, advancing on the car with the clear intent to stop it. A rock had hit the side and made Galen swear softly. They’d shoved him into the backseat, alone with the scientist. With the two guards in the front, he’d thought maybe this was his chance. Maybe he’d given up too early, maybe it wasn’t over yet. He’d smashed his elbow against Galen’s nose, drawing a much louder curse out of him, then reached for the lock. His hands shook so badly he’d fumbled on it, unable to flip the switch, then the cold barrel of a gun had pressed against the bottom of his head. He’d hesitated, considered fleeing anyway. Better dead than in the lab.
Then he’d spotted two beloved figures outside. Joshua came running out of the intersection first, his shorn red mane regrown into natural brown hair. Andeal’s gaze didn’t linger. Right behind him followed Maniel, her ponytail trapped under the scarf tied over her mouth, holding a chunk of wooden fence as a shield, angry determination painted on her face. She was beautiful and alive. Beautifully alive. He’d gasped, whispering her name, and flattened his hand against the window, breathless, like he’d never seen her before and was falling in love all over again. Like they were alone in the world.
“Run them over.”
Galen’s cold voice shattered his illusions. The car’s electric engine roared to life. The surge of hope their proximity had brought morphed into voiceless horror. Andeal read the surprised swear on Joshua’s lips, watched Maniel scramble back while he remained rooted to the spot. The dull thunk of a body had crushed Andeal’s insides as surely as it did Joshua’s bones. He bent over in his seat, nauseated. A hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.
“You look like you could use some sleep,” Galen said.
He’d smashed his temple before Andeal could react and until he woke in the office, it was the last he knew.
She was alive. The leather band might be gone, but she wasn’t. Andeal remembered how she’d laughed when he had offered the ring. He had presented it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world, like they hadn’t just moved into a damp cave and dared to call it home. You always do that, she’d said. No matter how dark our situation is, you never let it get to you. He had never told her she gave him the strength to carry on like that. He should have.
Now he would have to get out to do so.
Andeal struggled to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs. He
never should have given up. What was the point of waiting for torture? Better to die trying to get away. But he had been too terrified to see it. Months aboard the hot air balloon had dimmed the memory of his strong-headed, brilliant wife. And the last few weeks crawling through the countryside, pained and famished…after a time he’d thought of the Union’s Day’s broadcast as the end of everything. Galen might not have convinced the rioting protesters it was over, but he had convinced Andeal.
Not anymore, though. A glimpse of Maniel had breathed new courage into him. It didn’t matter how often he failed or what kind of reprisal Galen Clarin inflicted on him: he had to escape. Andeal scanned the room for a plan, any idea, no matter how desperate. He clutched the bookshelf for balance, his legs weak. He couldn’t run with his feet manacled, but he should be able to move about the room. He tried the door and found it locked. No surprise there. It was unlike Galen to leave him alone at all and Andeal suspected Omar’s death was affecting him more than he let on. Not to the point of leaving him in an unlocked room, though.
He had, however, forgotten his short-wave radio atop his desk. Andeal’s heart sped and he shuffled closer, then reached for the transmitter through which Treysh’s voice had interrupted his first torture session. He had to set his wounded palm flat on the desk to maintain his balance and gritted his teeth against the pain. He could suffer a little for a chance to talk to Treysh—to talk to anyone, really. Andeal inspected the device for an instant then pressed the communication button and brought the mic to his lips.
“Treysh? Treysh, it’s Andeal.”
His voice was broken and raw. Too much screaming, not enough talking. Andeal held his breath as he waited for an answer. His hands shook and no matter how hard he tried, he could not calm them. Then there was a quick static and his friend’s blessed voice came through.
“Andeal? We’re coming. We’re on our way, buddy, don’t you worry.”
Viral Airwaves Page 37
