The Lion in Paradise

by Brindle, Nathan C.

  "Knocked it over? Not collapsed it?" said Wolff, surprised.

  Yehudit, still in tears, nodded. "That's what Devorah said," she whispered.

  "You must go," said Beam. "I will dispatch Guardians who are in my confidence to retrieve the Darkness armor. Will you need me further?"

  "I don't know," said Wolff, grimly. "But if I do, I know how to reach you."

  "It is well. Go, then, and return safely." Beam touched two fingers to his brow, and disappeared.

  Wolff looked at von Barronov. "Set us up for the Pentagon. Front entrance. I don't care if anyone sees us rotate." His friend raised an eyebrow, then nodded and started working on the coordinates. Wolff pulled out his comm and started to dial a number.

  Yehudit shrieked again. "Grumpaw! Phobos! Oh my God!"

  Wolff dropped his arms and turned again. "Phobos? What do you mean, sweetheart?"

  "The big moon! Something just broke it in two! Yael—"

  "Shit," breathed von Barronov. "The Phobos Spacedock. Is the Georgia—"

  "No," replied Wolff, scowling. "It's at Deimos. Yehudit, Yael is on Mars right now, not on Phobos, and your Uncle Jack is with her, I hope. But holy hell. What the fuck is going on?"

  "Guess we'll find out."

  "Guess we will." Wolff finished dialing, and held the comm up to his ear.

  "Delaney? Did you hear . . . you did. I will be there in less than five minutes in the Bandersnatch. Front entrance. We're going to Chicago." He listened for a moment. "I love you, too. See you shortly." He rang off, looked at von Barronov, who nodded again, and then reached up for the switches.

  "Now, to the Pentagon. Rotation in 3, 2, 1 . . . "

  Chapter 8

  The Siren, Redux

  "We still don't have a gurney," Elise reminded them, as Don jockeyed the ambulance through the North Side airspace, lights strobing and siren cranked up to blow-your-eardrums-out-if-you're-standing-next-to-it levels.

  Thankfully, the ambulance was soundproofed.

  "I know, but we can still get people out of the rubble, if there's anyone to rescue," replied Devorah. "Without the gurney, we can get a lot more people in."

  She consciously shied away from saying "bodies," because she figured there was little question they would be picking up plenty of them. But she had to ask. "Elise, what's our stock on body bags?"

  Elise shuddered a bit, as if she'd been thinking the same thing.

  "Let me look," she said.

  Which was a key insight into Elise's current state of mind, thought Devorah; she hadn't known the girl long, but Elise had taken one look through the ambulance's stores (other than Storage 3) when she first joined the crew, and so far she'd seemed to have an almost-eidetic memory of what was contained in the ambulance's many other cabinets, cubbyholes, and first-aid boxes.

  "Christ," came Don's voice from the driver's seat, "they weren't kidding. It went over, flat as a pancake, toward the north. There's rubble clear out on Lake Shore Drive."

  "Holy shit," breathed Devorah. She moved forward to peer out the windshield. "What a mess."

  "We have two dozen," said Elise, from the back.

  "Okay, hon." Devorah tore her eyes away from the devastation, and turned back into the box. "Anything else we can use for SAR?"

  "We'll want our helmets with the air filters, maybe with the actual whole air supplies," Elise thought out loud, rallying. "We'll need the heavy gloves, of course. There are shovels and probes and a Halligan tool in the outside cabinets. We've got P95 masks for anyone we find alive, just to keep the dust out of their lungs. We'll take both medical kits. Don can haul out the old-fashioned stretcher, since we don't have a gurney . . . which wouldn't do us any good in the rubble, anyway, would it?"

  Devorah patted her on the shoulder. "That's a good start, Elise. A very good start. If we need more than that, I'm sure you'll know right where it is."

  "Dev." Elise straighten up, a bit of fire in her eyes. "Don't patronize me."

  "Okay, I won't," agreed Devorah. "You're a graduate, certified EMT, studying for paramedic, and I know you've got what it takes, or you wouldn't be riding with us." She indicated Don with a thumb pointed toward the cab. "So shake it off, EMT, because we're going to be in the shit as soon as Don finds a place to land this crate."

  "Yes, ma'am." Elise was still fuming a bit, but Devorah thought she'd rather see that than watch Elise lose it completely.

  "God, I wish Yehudit were here," said Devorah, wistfully. "This is going to be just like a goddamn archeological dig."

  "Found a spot," yelled Don. "Setting down."

  Both women grabbed hold, and a good thing, too; it was a truly rough landing.

  "Sorry," Don apologized, "there's just no flat spots. I've got the contragravity still running enough to keep the weight off, too; I don't know if the rubble will hold the vehicle. But it should hold us. Dust isn't too bad here, I think it all blew into town."

  "Okay," said Devorah. She looked at Elise. "I'm sorry."

  "Huh? Oh. Dev, it's okay. I know I was losing it." The girl smiled one of those wan little smiles.

  "You really weren't, but I thought a kind word wouldn't be misplaced. Apparently it was at that point. But that's water under the bridge. Let's go do what we do." Devorah punched the button for the hatch, and it went up.

  Don had landed the ambulance on a pile of junk that had spilled through the little park where North Lake Shore Drive curved around past the Oak Street Beach. Some of the junk was spread across the Drive itself, and there were wrecks due to that, but it appeared most of those people were either perfectly fine, or were being handled by the street-level ambulance services.

  It was actually pretty quiet, thought Devorah, as she stepped out onto what looked like one of the big antenna structures formerly emplaced on the building's roof. She looked around and noticed no vehicular movement at all, which probably accounted for that.

  But she'd been on SAR missions before, to collapsed or badly-damaged buildings, and what she'd expected to hear wasn't coming to her ears, either.

  "Nobody's calling for help," said Elise, looking around.

  "Careful where you step," said Don, coming around the side of the box with a shovel and a Halligan tool he'd pulled out of the exterior cabinets. "I think a Halligan tool each would be worth more in this mess, but we have only the one."

  With a roar of displaced air, a small starship materialized, and settled down on a debris-free section of Lake Shore Drive just east of the fallen building's footprint.

  "That's my Grumpaw's pinnace," said Devorah, surprised.

  "How did it do that?" gaped Don. Elise was leaning on Devorah, as she'd nearly fainted when the ship popped in.

  "Um. It's a secret," said Devorah, rolling her eyes.

  "Must not be much of one if he pops in places like that on a regular basis."

  "Actually, he doesn't. Ever. I imagine the exigencies of the situation had something to do with him not caring."

  The Frumious Bandersnatch's airlock swung in, and two women and a man emerged. Two other men stepped out, engaged them in conversation for a moment, then turned around and got back in, closing the airlock behind them. The three left behind trotted away, toward where the ambulance crew was standing, staring at them.

  The Frumious Bandersnatch disappeared, with an implosion of inrushing air.

  "It's – two of my sisters, Yehudit and Delaney, and Delaney's husband Harb," said Devorah, a hand up shading her eyes.

  "Devorah!" shouted Delaney. "Are you guys okay?"

  "We're fine," Devorah yelled back. "We're here looking for survivors."

  Delaney shook her head. "There aren't any."

  "She's a Space Force Marine," Devorah whispered to the other two. Don nodded; Elise still looked a little shocky. "Always negative about this sort of thing. Delaney," she went on, in a louder voice, "you know we have to look."

  "Sure," said the other woman, "but Yehudit already scanned the area and there are literally no survivors here." She po
inted south. "There are a few that way, she says. They'll be okay for a few minutes, at least; they're just trapped in an upper-floor office. Well. What used to be an upper-floor office. This part of the building was empty, though. Not even any bodies."

  "Their uniforms look like ours," said Elise, pointing at Delaney and Harb.

  "Yeah," said Devorah, "they're made by the same vendor, ours are in red, theirs are in black. Chicago Fire got a hella discount going that way. And you know the kind of shit we get into, we need this type of uniform with the Kevlar integral threads and all."

  "How does she know there are no survivors or bodies here?" asked Don, skeptically.

  "Believe me," sighed Devorah, "she knows. And Delaney has probably already mapped out the best way to get to the survivors Yehudit says are south of us."

  "You mean, how to get to where we have to dig?"

  "No, I mean, how to actually get to them without having to move a bunch of steel and concrete, although I think both of them can actually move that sort of stuff." Devorah sighed again. "My sisters and I are . . . how shall I put this delicately . . . special."

  Another explosion sounded overhead. They all looked up, involuntarily.

  "Another pinnace?" asked Don.

  "Maybe . . . yeah. It's my mother, in USSF Tumtum. Holy crap, she must have come all the way from al-Saḥra', that's where she and my dad are stationed."

  Devorah's comm rang. She looked at it, and punched accept.

  "Mom?"

  She listened.

  "Um, yeah, Grumpaw was just here, and he parked where you're getting ready to park, so maybe you should move a little farther down the street. I think Delaney knows where he went."

  She listened.

  "Yeah, Great Uncle Chris was with him."

  She listened again.

  "Okay, yeah, we'll come down but to be honest we have survivors south of us so we need to make this quick."

  She listened again.

  "Sure, we'll go do that, and then we'll talk. Love you, Mom. And Dad, too."

  She clicked off.

  "We need to move the ambulance south," she said, "about, hmm, a hundred yards, Delaney?"

  "Yes," called her sister.

  "Okay, I'll take any direction we can get in this mess," said Don. "Hop back in, I'll run us back there." He headed for the driver's door and got back in.

  Elise and Devorah got back into the box, carrying the shovel and the Halligan tool. Devorah punched the door control and the hatch came back down. They sat and strapped in for the ride.

  Don lifted off, carefully, and flew about a hundred yards south, then gingerly set down again. "This section seems more solid," he said, thoughtfully.

  "Are you getting anything on the radio?" asked Devorah.

  "Not really; part of the problem is the antennas are lying on the ground back there," he replied. "There are other public service systems, of course, but they're all backups, so it will be some time before we have a network."

  "What about from the other ambulances?"

  "Sorry, hon, but you know everything goes through that antiquated digital trunking system they had on the repeaters, a thousand feet up till an hour ago. The City isn't willing to pay for the upgrades they need to mil-spec comms, like the one you have. Even our own personal comms aren't working here, because the local FiftyG short-range network is out." He grunted, getting out of the driver's seat and coming back to the box. "Though maybe they'll think twice about that, now. I'll bet they won't be able to replace the old equipment."

  "Heh, don't bet the farm on that," said Devorah. "Grumpaw and Great-Uncle Chris have warehouses full of old amateur radio stuff, and what they don't have, they can probably find the specs and drawings and print new. But that's beside the point." She slapped the hatch button and the hatch came up. "I can feel them below us," she said, pointing. "If we start looking about six feet behind the ambulance, straight down, hmm, ten or fifteen feet."

  "How are we going to get through the aliglass?" asked Elise.

  "Break out the frames and lift it out, I suppose. That little aliglass cutter we have for storefront windows and the like is not going to work on this stuff; it's too thick." She grimaced. "I'd say it's too bad they replaced all the windows on the high-rises with aliglass decades ago, but hell, that may be part of what's holding the building structure together at this point."

  They started working the problem. Meanwhile, a few more ambulances started circling around. One landed, or came close to landing, nearby, and the driver shouted, "Hey, Don, any radio contact at all?"

  "Hey, Bill. No, nothing," Don shouted back, wiping the dust out of his eyes. "We were told there were two people down here in an office that survived the fall."

  Bill cocked his head. "But not on the radio?"

  "No. My paramedic is a witch. She dowsed it for us. What the fuck, Bill, who cares?"

  "Point, if you know they're down there and alive. Can she dowse us any more?"

  "Let me call my sisters," yelled Devorah. She hauled out her comm and called Delaney. "We have more ambulances up here, can Yehudit see anyone else trapped around here?"

  "Yeah, but we're coming up," came Delaney's reply. "We can point them out. Actually, Mom is going to drive the Tumtum over and drop us off. We also have a winch and I think Dad said he has some aliglass lifters. So we can help you get the aliglass off the building, if that's a problem."

  "Cool! Yeah, we got nothin'. Okay, we're waiting."

  "Give us a few, we'll be right there."

  Looking back, Delaney saw the Tumtum rise silently up from the street, bank, and head their direction. "Don," she said, "my mother is coming with her pinnace, she's got a winch and some lifters for that aliglass. My sisters are going to hop off and point out other survivors. Okay?"

  "Sure, all help is welcome, oorah the Space Marines." He grinned. "Bill! My witch's sisters are coming to stir the pot for you. Hang on a few minutes, they'll be here."

  "Sounds good, Don, we're waiting." Bill waved, swung his ambulance around, and retreated south a little farther to make room for the Tumtum.

  The pinnace arrived, looming over them, as a small cover near the center of the service module opened and a winch paid out enough cable to reach the "ground". Delaney appeared in the airlock with the set of lifters. "Stand clear, gonna drop these," she cried, and seeing clear space, she did so.

  "Thanks!" Don scrambled over and grabbed the lifters. He scrambled back to the window they were trying to remove, attached the lifters to the aliglass – they were more or less a pair of glorified suction cups, but better and much less likely to slip loose under load – and took the proffered cable hook from Elise, who'd scrambled over to grab that. He slipped the hook through the lifters' eyelet, and yelled, "Take her up!"

  Delaney, watching from above, gave a thumbs-up and shouted something back into the ship. The winch started up, gently, and took up the slack in the cable. When the cable was taut, Delaney yelled again, and the Tumtum itself started to rise.

  The aliglass pane came loose with a pop, and bounded around a little, but otherwise was swiftly pulled out of the way as whoever was piloting the pinnace immediately roared up and off to the east.

  "Wow, that was a nice pluck," said Don, appreciatively. "Smooth. That pilot has SAR skills."

  "That pilot," said Devorah, with a grin, "is my mother."

  "Serious SAR skills. Hope I get to meet her and tell her."

  "Help!" came a faint call from below.

  "We're coming," responded Devorah, grabbing her first aid box. Elise had hers, as well, and Don was carrying their Halligan tool, just in case.

  "Rope," said Don, producing one of their climbing ropes. It was tied off to the ambulance. Devorah took hold and went over the side. The office was one of those small single-person things, only about ten feet by ten feet, so it was a comparatively short drop to the "bottom", which was actually the side wall of the office. She reached the wall, and saw the door was almost closed, but had been prevented fr
om latching by a falling chair. She reached over and lifted the door, but it wouldn't stay up.

  "Elise, come down, I need you to hold the door until Don can find something to secure it."

  Elise grabbed the rope and came down. She held the door open while Devorah lay flat, stuck her head over the opening, and played a high-intensity LED light downward.

  "Where are you?" she shouted.

  "In the hallway, to the left of the door you're looking through. Well, my left. Not sure. I think my leg is broken." A female, indeterminate age, thought Devorah.

  "How far from the door?"

  "Ten feet maybe?"

  "Anybody else down there?"

  "Yeah, Julie, my co-worker, she's another five feet or so behind me. What the hell happened?"

  "Don't know yet, but wow are you two lucky. You rode this sucker all the way down to Lake Shore Drive, nearly."

  "No shit." The woman started to laugh, but then tailed off into coughing.

  "Elise, hold the door while I go down there."

  "Devorah, it's not safe. We should get another rope and clip it to your belt."

  "No time. I can feel the building straining. I think we have about ten minutes to get them out of here."

  Just then, Don came sliding down the rope. "First, tie the first rope around the door handle, which you should have done in the first place," he chided them. "Second, I'm going down there, not you, and I have another rope you can use to pull me back up. Third, I heard what you said, I'm stronger than you are, and I can move them faster. So give me a splint for the lady's leg and I'll do some rough and ready SAR shit."

  "Absolutely not, Don," said Devorah, angrily. "I weigh less than you do and you and Elise can pull me back up easier than Elise and I can pull you up."

  "Let me go," said Elise, suddenly. "I weigh less than either of you and I can splint the lady's leg and find out what's up with her friend."