Trials in Walls of Ivy (Triskelion Trilogy Book 1)

by Deborah Jayne Pye

  I leaned back as a knight carrying the non-alcoholic jug approached. He poured the last dregs into a glass four places away. He held up the jug to indicate he needed to refill it and retreated across the crowded room, chainmail clanging as he walked.

  “Thank you for bringing me here, Mark. This was just what I needed.”

  “Och, no problem. This is so much like the party I go to every Burn’s night back home. I haven’e had the chance to go the past two years. It’s a wee bit like bein’ back up there.”

  “Really? I thought Burn’s night was all poetry, haggis and whiskey?”

  “It is, but some places go all out. For years my family have gone to this one place, right on the border of ma city. It’s just like this, where everyone’s crammed together eating. But then, once everyone’s had a few too many wee drams, we push all the tables back and have a Ceilidh. Tell you, you’ve never partied ‘till you’ve been in a Scottish Ceilidh.”

  “I’ve never done that. It sounds brilliant. Don’t suppose you want to organise one at uni some time?”

  “Huh, not a chance. My desk is overflowin’. Once I’m back there tomorrow, I’ll be lost for weeks.” He held up his glass toward the waiter and pointed to the non-alcoholic jug.

  “You got loads on too? Sorry you had to come away from it tonight.”

  “I asked you, remember? And anyway, I needed to get away from the lab for a wee while too.”

  “I still don’t understand what it is you’re studying,” I laughed.

  “Not sure I understand it myself. Maybe I should put in a request to be a Mole. We could sit together in class.” He bumped shoulders with me, making me fall against the smiling woman beside me. She apologised before I could say a word.

  “Yeah, I can see that going well. You’re doing a doctorate though; you must enjoy what you do?”

  “It wasnae my first choice, but it’s an important area to be researched. I’ll be glad if I can make a difference.”

  “A difference in what?”

  He shrugged. “A difference tae the people who aren’t born with an equal chance. If we can surgically correct faulty genes, lives can be saved.” His eyes locked on his fisted hands as he spoke.

  The crowd cheered as a horde of jugglers joined the fire eaters. They lit their batons one at a time. Soon, the air was filled with flaming missiles being flung from one side of the stage to the other. The crowd cheered as acrobats flipped and twirled beneath the ribbons of fire. I leaned in close to Mark, struggling to shout above the cheering crowd.

  “But, how can you do surgery on such a small thing?”

  “Ye can’t, yet. That’s what I’m working on. If I can do it, I’m gonna find a way to perform surgery on the genetic level.”

  He poured me another goblet of juice, ducking his head as more food was thrown on our plates.

  “So, work stressing you out still? How’re you gettin’ on with that second task?” He asked, as he ripped apart a bread roll.

  I shuddered. “Slow. We’ve gathered some information, but it’s just the beginning. There’s a long way to go yet.”

  “Can I help? I know you’re supposed to put teams together. You want me to…” he broke off, bracing his hands on the table.

  I felt the ground begin to shake as the musicians cut to a stop. The ribbons of fire sizzled as the jugglers extinguished them in buckets. The room paused as the hall rang with the slow muted grumble of crumbling stone. It sounded deep, like it was coming from beneath us. Curtains of dust began to cascade from the ceiling, showering us in a decade’s worth of grime.

  “Mark, what is this? What’s happening?” I shouted, over the growing churn of panic. My hands gripped hold of his sleeve.

  I twisted on my seat, the worry and panic in the crowd around us grew louder. I watched as groups of people grabbed one another, the look of bewilderment identical on every face.

  An ear splitting roar hammered the air around us. We crashed to the floor as the bench wrenched over with the force of the blast. I rolled over the hard wood floor, ears whistling over muffled cries.

  Another rumble thundered through the room and screams filled the air. I flung my hand in front of my face as chunks of plaster and wood fell from the ceiling. It clattered and thumped on the hard wood floor, snapping and splintering as it smashed. I rolled onto my side to hide from the falling debris and was kicked by fleeing feet.

  “Roz, are yae okay?” Mark shouted, through the chaos.

  The room trembled as people scrambled for the exits. Hands grabbed me around the waist and I was yanked to my knees. Mark knelt in front of me and held my face.

  “Are yae hurt?” He shouted, “answer me, Roz. Are yae hurt, did it get you?”

  I tried to speak but my mouth was filled with dust. I choked and stumbled forward. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled.

  “Come on. We have tae get out.” He held out his arm protectively, pushing his way through the panicking crowd.

  I cowered as another roar filled the air, forcing more plaster and bricks to fall from the ceiling. The crowd ducked as one. I held my hands over my head as we were showered in the cascading debris. Mark gripped my waist firmer and pulled me again to my feet.

  “Roz, it’s goin’. We need to move!”

  As he shouted, I watched an enormous piece of the ornate ceiling fall to the floor. Slabs of piping, wood and plaster drove into the crowd beneath. My scream was lost in the chorus of anguish which surrounded us.

  I winced feebly as the cold sting of pain shot through my leg. My body stiffened, trembling against the invasion. I looked down to see blood covering my side, arm and legs. Mark was laid beside me, covered in a mound of rubble. He pushed a sheet of plaster and wood off himself forcefully and moved to pull me to my feet. As he pulled me up, I instantly collapsed back to the rubble strewn floor.

  “I’m sorry, Mark. Just get out,” I screamed.

  People pushed at us to get free. All around, frantic survivors were climbing over each other to escape, ignoring the lifeless bodies which littered the scene.

  “Just go!” I pleaded.

  “Not a chance.” He wrapped his arms around my legs and back and yanked me up.

  My scream ripped from my chest without warning. The slice of pain sheered through my body, twisting itself around my insides. I tried to hold my breath, fight the freezing fire which was threatening to swallow me whole. He clambered over bricks, stumbling into the path of fleeing bodies. I watched my leg gush red with each step he took, pouring with every heartbeat.

  A fresh splintering sound of wood filled the room. Mark twisted with me in his arms. We both watched helplessly as the oversized balcony caved in on itself. The people below screamed as it consumed them, buried by the building itself. My heart stopped as the cries for help cut short, leaving only the growling hollow of the murderous building behind.

  We watched the dust settle, helplessly. Mark turned us away from the horror and fought his way with the crowd toward the exit.

  * * *

  I shivered as the cold wind licked my bare skin. Hurried voices and despair consumed the world around me. Through my eyelids, blue flashing lights flickered in and out of the darkness. I focused on the blue light and tried to force my eyes open. They were heavy, dry and scratched with dust.

  The scene around me was unrecognisable. I was outside, laid out in front of the disaster zone. The left side of the theatre was in ruins. Bricks were still falling from the walls, glass strewn across the road. The right side of the building trembled like it was preparing to perish at any moment.

  The police had set up a barrier holding people back. My heart froze. I was sat on a mat in the middle of the enclosure, surrounded. Behind me, beside and in front was a mass of white sheets. Body shaped, white sheets. Twenty, maybe forty sheets scattered the ground around me. Each one was tucked under neatly, shielding them from the scene of carnage. I looked down at myself and was relieved to find I didn’t have a sheet. My leg was taped up with a full
length splint, an enormous bandage wrapped tight around my thigh. My arms and stomach felt stiff with thick bandages.

  I prodded the splinted leg with my finger and felt nothing. I tried to move my other leg and was horrified to find it unresponsive. My heart raced and panicked tears spilled from my eyes. I tried again, heaving for breath with the effort. My legs were paralysed. I reached forward to grab at my foot and screamed as pain shot through my side.

  “Calm down. Calm down, dear,” a woman said, as she wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

  “I can’t move. I can’t move my legs!” I screamed. My breathing ripped at my chest, gagged and raw. My head swayed with dizziness.

  “I know. You’ve had a big dose of morphine. It’ll wear off.” She stroked my hair and looked around at the scene around us. “You were very lucky, dear.”

  I leaned back against her and shuddered in a scratchy breath. I was lucky. All those people under the balcony weren’t so lucky. All those people. There must have been dozens still trying to get free. I sat up as I realised Mark wasn’t there.

  “There was a guy with me. Have you seen him?”

  She smiled and nodded while I spoke, like she knew what I was going to say. “He asked me to stay with you.”

  “Where did he go?” I tried to hide the sting of abandonment.

  “Back inside. He went in to help with the rescue.”

  My head snapped to the theatre door, unable to utter another word. How could he go back in there? It looked like it could collapse at any moment. People in emergency uniforms ran in and out of the crumbling doorway, each one risking their own life as the bricks continued to fall.

  One man carried an unconscious woman over his shoulder. He laid her out gently, close to where I had been placed. Paramedics rushed to them as he began chest compressions. Her chest rose and fell as he breathed for her. The first paramedic to reach them pushed him to the side and took over. His reflective jacket glittered against the glare of the surrounding emergency lights. His fists clenched against her chest, pounding over and over. It felt like time stood still. Sound and thought seemed to pause, waiting for the woman to re-join the world. I sucked in a sob as the man sat back on his heels. He shook his head and looked up at the other paramedic. I hadn’t noticed the man the second paramedic was holding back. He crumbled to his knees beside the still woman. He cupped her face, tears dripping onto her pale lips. I felt like an imposter, watching his shoulders shake with grief. He turned her head to kiss her cheek, and her soulless eyes looked blankly at mine. I knew her face. I knew her smile. The girl who sat beside me; the girl who apologised when I bumped her, the girl I never thought to speak to, was gone.

  I covered my face with my hands. Why did I watch? Why didn’t I look away?

  In my mind, the dead eyes of the girl watched me.

  A bone jarring crack splintered through the air and I felt the ground beneath me rumble. A cloud of dust exploded from the theatre entrance. From all around me, people ran, screaming. Some ran toward the trembling building, some away. The police held the barriers in place, hiding behind their plastic masks and shields. I followed the line of plastic barricades from where I was sat. We were penned in. Held back from the gathering crowd; we were trapped next to the collapsing building.

  “It’s gonna go!” I twisted back to the building to see a fireman shouting to the other emergency workers. “Everyone, back now! It’s going fast.” He was carrying a man, dragging him behind him across the rubble. Arms of his fellow workers reached out to help pull them to safety. The rescued man was limp. Slick with blood.

  “Mark!” I screamed, as I saw his face.

  I tried to get to my feet, only to fall pathetically to my side. The woman pulled me back into place. She patted me on the shoulder and left without a word. I watched as she ran over to Mark, leaning over as the emergency worker saw to him. She placed her fingers on his neck. The paramedic moved her away and pulled a bandage from his bag. Mark’s eyes didn’t open as the bandage was wrapped around his head. She spoke to the paramedic for a moment and clambered over the rubble to return to me.

  “He thinks he’ll be okay,” she said, before I could speak. “He’s had a bump to the head, but they won’t know any more until he gets to the hospital.” She re-positioned the blanket around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, the worst is over.”

  “But, he’s covered in blood.” My voice cracked, my body’s energy spent.

  “He’s going to be fine dear. You rest now.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When I woke in the university hospital, Owen and Ash were sat at my bedside. I had spent a week in the city hospital, grateful for their generous morphine supply. Here, I was expected to manage without. I had spent the night counting down the hours until I could have more paracetamol.

  Owen told me about the police reports. They hadn’t been updated fully on their system yet, so he couldn’t download them, but Jay had managed to hack into their radio communications while the theatre went down. It was a bomb. Although I knew it must have been, hearing Owen say it was still a shock. I opened my mouth to ask, but he smiled and cut me off.

  “There was no trace in you.” He sat on the bed beside me. “As of this morning, there’s no trace of any biological substances. Or at least, none that shouldn’t be there.”

  “As of this morning?” I asked.

  “They’ve only just opened the road again. The police report vaguely mentions that it’s clean and can re-open. Whatever is happening, they’re not putting it on their computer systems yet.” He leaned back on my pillow, lying beside me. “Lucky you’re back anyway.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed. “One more week, and I think Bree would’ve taken your room.” He winked at Ash, who smirked and left the room.

  I watched his back as he closed the door behind him.

  “What’s with him?” I asked, “and, why’s Bree taking my room? I’ve only been gone a week.”

  “He’s just worried about you.”

  “Funny way of showing it. He didn’t even speak.”

  I held my breath, chiding myself. I wasn’t thinking of Ash in any other way than friends. He didn’t have to say anything or stay to see me. He didn’t owe me anything. I puffed out a breath, forcing myself to focus.

  “So, Bree? Why my room?”

  He erupted in laughter. “ ‘Cos Warwick’s got three new girlfriends this week. Think she’s in need of a quiet sleep. She’s taken to going to the social bar every night just to get drunk enough to sleep through it.”

  “Oh god, really? Can’t he go to their houses? And please tell me that Bree’s not going alone every night?”

  “You know what she’s like. I asked her to stay and help me. But no, she can take care of herself. She’s alright; I think she’s enjoying the freedom. She told me about her family back home. From what she described, her brothers always treated her like a dainty little flower. Let’s face it, she’s hardly that. I think she’s just enjoying the room to breathe.”

  I knew he was right. She was a Wolf, one of the best I’d seen. She deserved to have fun. I knew she hated the research side of a task. She lived for action.

  Two weeks had passed before I was allowed to leave the hospital. Owen met me at the hospital block to help me get back to the house. All he actually did was laugh at my pathetic attempt of walking with crutches. Every time I tried to move them forward, I nearly fell flat on my face. He spent the entire trek across campus in hysterics. But, even with Owen’s teasing, I was glad to be free from the hospital.

  The doctors reported that I had a twelve inch gash on my thigh, deep lacerations on my arm and what they phrased as significant tissue damage to my side. They presumed it was all made by falling rubble as the roof collapsed. Having the stitches wasn’t so bad. The worst part was cleaning them. I was instructed to remove and replace the dressings every day, cleaning thoroughly each time. The first time I touched my leg with the sterile cloth; I thought I was going to pass out. Th
e pain was worse than it had been in the theatre. It seemed to burn and throb long after I had stopped cleaning. The skin was still raw in places, stinging to the touch.

  Mark was doing fine, apparently. I hadn’t seen him since the first day in the hospital. The paramedic was right; he just had a bump to the head. It had bled out a lot, but he made a swift recovery. I did laugh when I found out he got a lecture from the police for returning to the building. I had to agree with them. All he ended up doing was adding to the casualty list.

  Once I left the hospital, my main cause of worry was my investigation progress. Llamp had sent me word that I had been granted extra time in delivering my progress report. With all my time incapacitated, I had lost valuable research time. The report was due in tomorrow. It was her well phrased concession which made me determined to keep to the original time scale. The words were burned into my mind: Due to your unfortunate involvement in public affairs and resulting injury, the Consummate board have agreed to relax the time scale of your next progress report.

  I knew exactly what this meant. They now saw me as weak. I had gotten involved in a public emergency and had given my name. Rule number one for the Consummate: secrecy. I had willingly given my name to the authorities. I had even told them I was a student at the university. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. They were official people at the scene of an emergency. But after, when the police kept repeating the question: and you’re a student at Terram? I knew I had revealed too much. I had to come back ready for work, ready to prove I wasn’t broken. It wasn’t going to be easy. I’d missed two weeks of training and now, as far as they could see, I was behind the rest of my peers.

  * * *

  I gripped my crutches as I hobbled my way toward the science department. I was ridiculously behind schedule. Thankfully Owen had continued to collect updated information from secure sources. Now it was my turn to collect what I could. It wasn’t just my future on the line, it was my team’s too.