by D. B. Green
“I know, but it sounds nicer than the Text to Voice App,” I say, tapping the back of her tablet. “And it will make your aunt happy… happier.”
Amber shakes her head and slides a piece of paper across the table — the prepared bomb threat script. I quickly scan over it.
There’s a bomb (pause) in your hospital.
(Wait for response.)
We just delivered it to your North Building. Hidden in an organ transplant case, addressed to a staff nurse called Janice Ripley.
(Wait for response.)
I do not agree with the motives of my organization. You need to alert the authorities.
(Wait for response.)
This is a warning. Did you not hear what I said? There’s a bomb in your hospital. You’re all in danger.
(End Call).
Succinct and straight to the point.
Amber reaches up and grabs a coiled cable, dangling from the van roof. She connects it to the laptop.
“It was a great idea of Nicci’s to route the call through CB radio.”
“Yes, it will take them a while to trace the call,” Amber says as she taps on the keyboard. She holds out a headset and glances at the roof. “If it works, that is.”
My hands start shaking. Whisky. I ignore the urge for a drink caused by Amber’s doubt and position the microphone. “I remember a few times when I was on the other end of calls like these,” I say, sliding the journal across the table. I point at Kathy’s page.
Amber nods as a gust of lavender infused wind tugs at the journal pages.
The shakes get worse.
Not now… Please not now.
“Shall I close the do—”
“Hello. Main reception, how can I help?”
“There’s a bomb… in your hospital,” I say, talking fast.
“A bomb.” The line goes quiet for a second. “A bomb… Where?”
“We just delivered it to your North Building. Hidden in an organ transplant case, addressed to a staff nurse called Janice Ripley.” I pause for breath, not having to act.
The line goes quiet.
Amber’s eyes open wide and she points over my shoulder, mouthing the word “Nicci.”
I turn and hold my hand up as Nicci reaches the door. She nods and waits outside, leaning against the side of the van.
“What are your demands?” A new, more confident voice comes from the speaker.
The magic attack in the High Street jumps into my mind. I push the script away. “Our persecution ends today. This is our world now.” I reach across and tap the laptop screen, ending the call.
Nicci climbs back into the van. “Nice bit of ad-libbing,” she says, almost smiling.
“Thanks. Might as well turn the magic attacks to our advantage.”
Nicci drops on the comfy seat at the back of the van. I sit down beside her. “We don’t need to take Dean to Scotland now, as he’s healing inside the Veil.” I rub my aching knee. “I want to do Longstone Park today.”
She nods. “Yup, I was thinking the same thing.”
“Can you rearrange your meeting with Emma for twelve-thirty today?”
“I can’t see it being a problem; she was desperate to interview me before the Fall anniversary, anyway.” She lowers her eyes. “Well, interview Jenny, that is.”
Amber slams the laptop lid down. “This is stupid.” Her lips press together, her cheeks are cherry red. She narrows her eyes. “You want to get Dean and Emma together today?” The ELC can’t portray her anger, but her face can. “This is fucking stupid and fucking dangerous.”
Hearing curses from such a beautiful voice is disturbing.
“Amber Jackson!” Nicci shouts, standing up. “Watch your language.”
I catch Nicci’s eye and point at my ears and my lips, then at her. Then I place my hand on Amber’s shoulder. She tenses, like a soldier standing to attention. “Look, Amber. After today’s attacks, security measures will be increased even further. Especially now that the President has reinstated the Fall Curfew. We won’t get another chance.”
She slumps down at the table and rips off her ELC in protest, flinging it onto the floor. Turning her back on us, she taps away on her tablet in anger.
Scowling at Amber, Nicci picks up the ELC and checks it for damage. Satisfied it still works, she places it on the table. “I’ll make the call to Emma outside.” She pauses by the open van door.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t hear any sirens,” she says. “Do you think they took the bait?”
I reach across the table and check Kathy’s page. “We’ll know for sure in a few minutes.”
11:20 GMT
KATHY MEADOWS
RUTLAND HOSPITAL | NEW BAKEWELL
The hospital intercom hisses into life, like a deflating balloon. “All nurses report to your ward receptions immediately. This is not a drill.”
Breath in. Breathe out.
My heart pounds.
This is it.
I push open the ward doors. Pam and Jen, are already there, leaning against the reception desk, chatting to the clerk. They stop talking and turn in unison, giving me the once over. “Barbie doll nurses” as Sun calls them. Fake beauty, augmented in every possible way. They take staff discount to a whole new level.
I turn away, ignoring their icy stares as several more nurses run — then walk — into the ward reception.
No sign of Sun Lin. I hope she’s okay, I’ve not seen her since the locker room… Right on cue, she bursts through the double doors, gasping for breath.
“I was downstairs when the call went out. It scared me half to death.” She grabs my arm and leads me to one side, lowering her voice. “Is this you?”
“Yeah. Bomb threat — fake bomb threat.” I quickly add after seeing her startled face. “There’s something else, Sun. Dean’s aw—”
The double doors slam open and Ripley marches into the ward, flanked by four security officers. She bangs twice on the reception desk. Satisfied all attention is now on her, she takes out a small stack of white cards.
“What’s she gonna do? Deal us a better hand?” Pam whispers.
Jen giggles at the joke, but Ripley is quick to give her the stare of death — the stare I’ve become all too familiar with.
“Earlier today, there were a series of magic attacks across the country.” Ripley says. “Magic terrorists,” she adds. “This hospital is now a target and we need to evacuate. We have a procedure in place for incidents like this, so don’t panic.” Ripley turns over one of the white cards. “We need to take all patients to the South Building, quickly and orderly. There’s a triage set up in the reception area.” She turns over another card. “Stick to your emergency rota patients. Get them out in chairs, otherwise in beds if you have to.”
The security officers step forward.
Ripley’s lip curls into a small grin. “I’ve commandeered extra staff to help,” she says. “The evacuation route is open and unlocked. Remember, I need to scan you and your patients’ biometrics before you leave. Be quick; this building needs to be empty within fifteen minutes.”
Sun grips my arm tight. “Magic attacks,” she says.
“That wasn’t us, but the confusion might help,” I whisper, seeing her startled face. “Are you ready?”
She nods.
“Make sure you leave all windows and doors open,” Ripley shouts.
I lean in close to Sun. “Can you help with Dean?”
“One of those security officers might help with my rota patient.” She steps aside as two junior consultants run past, their white coats flapping. “Better still, I know those juniors; I’ll get them to do it instead.”
Lab coats! I grab her arm before she can run off. “When you’ve sorted out your patient, could you get me a lab coat from stores? I’ve had an idea.”
Sun nods and runs after the junior consultants. I watch as she marches them off to her patient’s room.
My heart pounds more than ever as I run back to
Dean’s room. I take a deep breath and knock four times as promised.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I slide my card through the reader and push open the door. Dean’s room is a mess. The laptop is in pieces on the floor and the closet door hangs from its hinges.
Dean sits up in bed, pushing the sheet back. He rocks back and forth, arms wrapped around his knees. His face is gaunt, tear-stained.
Crap.
He knows.
“Why didn’t you tell me about all those people?” He shakes his head, then his watery eyes focus on mine. “Why didn’t you tell me about Emma?” His voice is almost a murmur.
As if prompted, there’s a flash from the smashed laptop screen on the floor. An image of his fiancée flickers on the cracked screen.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I’m sorry.” I try to fight the rising panic. “We’ve faked a bomb threat; they’re evacuating this building.”
Suddenly, the door swings open and Sun runs in. Dean lays down, pretending to be asleep.
“It’s okay, Dean. This is Sun Lin. She’s a friend.”
Sun jumps back, almost knocking me over. She steadies herself and pulls me to one side.
“How can he be awake?” She glances at Dean. “He was comatose.”
“I know, it should take him days to recover — not hours,” I say. “But with magic, anything is possible.”
Sun looks shocked. “What about the Veil?”
“I just don’t know, Sun. I don’t know what’s live magic or what’s dead magic… At least the rescue will be a little easier now.”
She hands me a plastic packet. “What do you want the lab coat for?”
I rip open the packet. “Just as a precaution.” I throw the lab coat to Dean.
He unfolds it. “I see where you’re going with this.”
“Do we still need the bed?” Sun asks.
“Yeah. We need to keep up the pretense he’s still in a coma,” I say. “Ripley needs to scan his biometric implant before we go.”
Sun smiles at Dean. “Excuse me.” She leans over him to tug up the side rail.
He stares at her neck. “That’s a weird tattoo.”
My eyes focus on Sun. She’d never have a tattoo — never mark her skin. But there is something on her neck, hiding under her hair… A silver disk.
Oh no! I brush her hair to one side. Shit! An Emitter… It was Sun that made my hair spark.
She rubs at her neck, but her fingers pass right through the Emitter, like it isn’t there.
“It looks like a coin,” Dean says, leaning closer.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I quickly put my finger and thumb to the Emitter and press against Sun’s neck. It shimmers for a brief second and then drops into my hand.
Sun’s scared eyes drift down. “What is it?”
“It’s called an Emitter.” I turn it between my fingers. “This is old technology. Spying tech, combined with magic. The government used to disguise them as silver coins. I tap my neck. They connect straight into the jugular vein. Only we… Enchanters, can see them until they’re deactivated.”
Sun slumps down onto the bed, clutching her neck.
Dean breaks the awkward silence. “Who’s this they?” he asks, staring at my hair.
“We’re not sure—” A sudden bang on the door makes us all jump, sending my heart back into high gear. I quickly turn around, holding my breath.
“Get moving,” Ripley shouts from outside. She bangs on the door again.
“Almost done.” I put a finger to my lips. “Five minutes, tops.”
I wait, half expecting Ripley to barge in. Thankfully, she moves away from the door, her footsteps echoing back down the ward.
“What about this coin thing?” Dean whispers.
“Don’t worry.” I toss him the Emitter. “It needs a connection to a vein for the surveillance to work.”
He rolls the Emitter across his knuckles. “So someone knows about this rescue of yours?”
Crap.
“Sun only learned we were getting you out just a few hours ago. Thankfully, I hadn’t told her the full plan.” Sun shakes her head in confirmation. “And with the evacuation in full swing, they won’t have time to interfere. They don’t know about the copied ID card, so we should still be okay.”
“But won’t they realize this was a fake bomb threat?” Dean asks, rolling his eyes.
“Possibly, but they don’t know for sure it’s a fa—” Crap! I smack the side of my head and slump down onto the bed next to Sun. “I told you it was a fake bomb threat, didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry,” Sun says.
“It’s not your fault.” I put my arm around her shoulders. She’s shivering, like it’s the middle of winter.
“What will happen to my sister?” she asks. “What will happen to Akky?”
“Akky will be fine.” No, she won’t. I try to sound reassuring, but I know I’m wrong. If we fail, her sister won’t be fine. The hospital trust will fire Sun and stop funding her sister’s care. This is all my fault.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Come on, let’s get moving,” I say, helping Sun to her feet. “We need Ripley to scan his implant.”
I pull up the remaining side rail and fasten the locking clamps for Dean’s LSU. Sun glances at the heart monitor. “What about the LSU?” she asks, her bottom lip quivering. “His heart rate?”
I switch the LSU over to battery power and point at the connected MP3 player. “Fake vitals.”
Her eyes open wide.
“Don’t worry,” I say.
I reposition the Medusa Lapse on Dean’s chest and cover him up with the bed sheet. “My supervisor will need to scan the biometric implant in your neck.” I take his finger and press it over the tubular implant under his skin. “Every person in this country has a biometric implant. The government has satellites that can pinpoint your exact location. Most building entrances have a Bio-Arch that picks them up too. The government tracks your every movement.” Dean’s eyes open wide as I rub my finger over his implant — like he’s in shock.
“You’ll need to keep still.”
He nods his understanding. Nervously, he glances at my hand as he lays back on the bed.
Sun opens the door and we push Dean’s bed out onto the ward.
Ripley stands by the elevators, tapping her heel against the wall. “Come on, you’re the last ones,” she says.
I put my hand on the bed. “Keep down,” I whisper.
Ripley glances at the sheet-covered Medusa Lapse, then she holds a Bio-Scanner over Dean’s neck. His details flash up on the round glass screen. Satisfied the scan results have transferred to her tablet, she then runs the slender, black scanner over the back of my neck and then Sun’s. “Go straight across to the South Building. There will be a satellite Bio-Scan in ten minutes,” she says, tapping on her tablet. “I’m needed on the third floor.”
“What happens now?” Sun whispers, while watching Ripley run to the stairs.
“We’ll go back to Dean’s room,” I say, reaching for the back of my neck. “We need to remove our biometric implants.”
Dean helps push the bed. It’s only a short distance back to his room. Only the slow, regular beeps from the fake vitals break the eerie silence.
I open the door and we push the bed through.
“Sit down, with your back to me,” I say. His frame appears stronger than before; his arms are filling out, getting more defined by the second. He sits on the edge of the bed. I pull the lab coat collar down and press my fingers to the back of his neck, searching for the small implant.
“How do you remove them?” Dean asks.
“It will hurt a little,” I say. “I’ve got to cut it out.”
Dean flinches. “Okay.”
I open the bedside cabinet and take out a small first aid kit. Inside are two sterilized scalpels. I take one out. “Brace yourself,” I say.
I push the implant up, tight against his
skin, then I carefully press the point of the scalpel into his neck. He flinches as it breaks the skin. I make a small cut and push the implant until a flash of silver pokes through the cut. A trickle of blood runs down his neck. Sun hands me a tissue. I press it to the cut and push the implant fully out. “All done,” I say, holding the blood smeared tube between my thumb and finger. I stick a Band-Aid over the wound, hoping his resurgent magic genes will stop the blood flow.
I pass the second scalpel to Sun. “Can you cut mine out?”
She pulls my hair back from my neck. The scalpel feels cold against my skin.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Pain.
A sting, like the stab of an injection. Then Sun drops the bloodstained implant into my hand.
“Strange to think these little things control so much of your life,” she says.
I give her both implants. “Can you take these to the South Building and hide them in one of the patient’s beds?” I ask. “Before the satellite Bio-Scan?”
“Won’t they just count all the people?” Dean asks.
“Yes, but not straight away. It will give us time to leave unnoticed.”
Sun sits down on the bed. Her wide eyes wander around the room, settling on the pair of biometric implants in her hand. She looks so lost.
I step over the smashed laptop and reach for the closet door. It snaps off the broken hinges and clatters onto the floor.
“Sorry,” Dean says as I lean the door against the wall.
Reaching inside the open closet, I pull out a small brown leather bag from the top shelf and thrust it into Sun’s hands.
“There’s ten thousand dollars in there and passes for the Scottish Freedom Ferry.” I say. “You’ve heard of that, right?”
Sun holds the bag, looking puzzled. “Yes. But I can’t leave. You still need help.” She glances at Dean.
“You only need to take our biometric implants over to the South Building.” I grab the bag from Sun and take out the folded map from inside. “Look, this is a safe route to the Scottish border. Whoever tagged you with that Emitter knows you’re involved now,” I say. “You need to get your sister and save yourselves.” I force the bag back into her hands. “Take it and go back home to China. Be safe.” She looks like a lost sheep, looking from me to Dean. “You need to go. Now!” She pulls me close, giving me a quick hug, and then she runs out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the ward corridor.