“I don’t need an escort.”
Pomfrey straightened. “Malkus is more your style. Unless you’d rather be matched with Zent’s son, Rayder or Cletus’s son Babbit?” He unbuttoned his suit coat and placed his hands on his hips. “Malkus hinted about your brief fling and felt you’d fall head over heels by his invitation. And Malkus will eventually be overseeing the Infirmary. He’s resilient and—”
“And evil.” Paniess finished her father’s sentence. “I believe Dr. Riggley or Gee Butterwood would be the top choices to manage the facility.”
He flicked an indifferent hand. “Both doctors are weepy, compassionate twerps.”
“They’re the best you’ve got. Malkus is...is repugnant. He takes pleasure in watching people struggle in pain, especially when he’s slicing and dicing in the lower levels.”
“Hah!” Pomfrey threw his head back in barking laughter. “Then Malkus is the perfect choice.” He stepped closer spoiling the moon’s glow. His face carved in pitch-black lines. “By the way dear, no need to report to the Infirmary tomorrow. Your job has been terminated.”
“What? Why? It’s my only source of...”
“Of what, Paniess?” His dark eye sockets narrowed.
He knew something. “Fine. I’d rather be with Mother. But I’m not going to the dance this year.”
“If you’re still pining over Doogan McTullan, he’s a dead man. I’d forget about him.”
“I don’t think about him. He’s out of my life, forever. I’m still not going to the Dance with Malkus.”
“Oh, but you will.” Pomfrey stroked her temple, trailing to pinch her chin between his fingers. “Or do you need a lesson in obedience?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
An airborne Fabal grazed boughs of pine, thumping the ground and rolling like a snowball until coming to a jarring stop. He twirled on his rump to perceive Swan still attached to Tibbles. Phew. She was secure and unharmed.
“What a riot!” Bubbles of laughter charged from his mouth, simply his manner of relief. Swan tumbled awkwardly from the bears back. Her hair a nest after a monsoon and her pasty artic-blue complexion rushed into a maddening flush. With a subzero glare and a purposeful gait, she neared him.
“We could’ve been killed, and you’re laughing?” She stacked her mitten-encased hands on her hips.
“Tibbles had it under control. Didn’t you?” He peered past the girl towards the bear, which was now sitting upright. He shrugged noncommittally, tilting his head. “Come on, Swan, admit it. It was an awesome ride.”
She vented a puff of condensation, toughness siphoning from her rigid frame. Adjusting simpering eyes to the ground, she booted the snow. “Ye-e-ah...I guess, okay.” She must’ve noticed his grimace as he climbed to his feet. “Did you get hurt?”
He swept hands over his snowy clothes. “I must’ve tweaked my ankle. I’m fine.” He limped past Swan, out of a grove of pines into the clearing. “We better get back before my mom starts to worry.”
“Good thinking, genius,” she said, not one to mince words.
“Look at that.” Fabal pointed to the ridge where their troughed trajectory was plain to see. “The snow’s melting fast.” A strait of mud with swatches of snow marbled the incline. “This weather’s kooky.”
***
Squeezing a rubber ball in the palm of his hand, Knox perceived Fabal, Swan, and Tibbles tramping into the cave. “Where the heck have you guys been?” he complained. With his arm in a cotton sling and bearing more weight on his left leg, he hobbled towards them. He considered Tibbles waddling to the fire, dumping to the ground with a physical growl. “What’d you do to him?”
“Wish you could’ve been there,” Fabal said. “We sledded down the side of the mountain. It was a blast.”
“It wasn’t that great,” Swan said, giving Fabal the ole stink eye. “We nearly got maimed.”
“Yeah, totally death defying.” Ignoring her remark, a smirk decorated Fabal’s face.
“Thanks for rubbing it in.” Knox flinched and swiveled in the direction of his cot. “I got to get out of here for a while. My two nurses won’t leave me alone.” At that juncture, Keeyla and Tanya paced over to the children. And their miffed expressions said it all.
“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” Keeyla asked, arms akimbo in a disapproving pose. “You take off without telling anyone where you’re going and leave us worrying our heads off.”
“Mom, I was with Tibbles.” Fabal acted guiltlessly. “I’m perfectly safe with him.”
“Tibbles is not invincible,” she retorted. A snappy mumble burst from the bear as he channeled his head into his arms. “Wipe that smirk off your face, young man. The Mediators might not be a threat right now but there’s plenty of danger in these mountains, and you know that.”
“I can’t believe you kids,” Tanya added her crack at chastising. “Knox nearly got killed by those wolves, who are still hunting, and you go gallivanting around scaring us to death.”
Fabal caught sight of Knox’s impish grin; apparently he approved of the ass whipping they were receiving.
A contrite Fabal and Swan dipped their chins.
“I guess we weren’t thinking,” Swan said.
“That’s the problem.” Keeyla kneaded the back of her neck. “You’re not thinking.”
“But Mom—” Fabal whined while following her toward the rear of the cave. “Tibbles would never let anything happen to us. You know that. In Tallas, I’d be a mole, and you’d have to let me go.”
She wheeled around. “I know. Really I do. But...” She clasped her son’s shoulders and drew him into her chest. “I don’t want to be one of those hysterical moms. Life isn’t getting any easier, and you’ve already proven yourself to be brave, but now I need you to be smart.” Holding onto his upper arms, she gently pulled him back and gazed into his soulful eyes. “Okay?”
His mouth gathered, nodding. “Can we at least walk outside for a bit? Knox’s complaining about too much mothering.”
“Fine,” she said, emitting a resigning brow, “if Tanya says it’s alright, but stay around camp.”
Soon, the three amigos were together again. Knox put on a spirited exterior while limping on his sutured legs. “Thanks. I needed to get out. Ah-h-h...” His face scrunched, flaring nostrils, breathing in fresh air. “I hate being cooped up in there.”
“Hey kids,” Garth Coonley greeted, towing a makeshift trolley of wood, “can you give me a hand with this timber? I chopped a cord down a ways.” In his opposite hand, he pointed with an axe.
Fully clothed, Garth didn’t resemble a mutant. And Fabal had the penchant to gawk openly at Garth’s variegated skin, which changed colors when he walked from the sun through the shadows.
“Fulvio said to cut just enough for the week.” Garth brushed moisture from his forehead and mouth with his long sleeves. “Might be heading out soon.”
“Sure,” Knox said.
“You can’t carry timber.” Swan’s eyebrows conjoined with a marginal crease giving her brother a frown.
“I got a good arm here.” He jiggled his unslung arm with gusto. “I can carry at least two, maybe three.”
“Hmph...we’ll see.” Swan seemed unconvinced.
The small nomad population shared lodgings, clothes, acquired food, and all sorts of commodities. Good to his word, Knox, with Fabal’s assistance, carried hewed pieces of timber. And dumped it into the newly erected lean-to for communal consumption. Back and forth they trudged until Garth’s corded pile shrunk. For the final chopped logs, Knox had to take a breather beneath a maple tree. Fabal could only imagine how his friend’s shoulder and legs must’ve screamed in pain, but he never complained.
“Thanks, kids,” Garth said. “It went faster with your help. Appreciate it.” He continued to stack the cut logs into the lean-to, out of the wet weather to dry. “Fabal, you kids should take some for the cave.”
“Okay, Garth. Thanks. We’ll grab some later.” Swan and Fabal returned to
where Knox was loafing on a tree stump.
“I was wrong.” Swan playfully prodded her brother’s good arm. “I admit it. You’re stronger than I thought.” He faked an upbeat posture casting them a false grin. His cocky stance turned puzzlingly as the land under their feet quivered.
“Did you feel that?” Fabal glanced to Swan and then to Knox.
“Is Tibbles nearby,” Knox asked, “running around or something?”
“The ground doesn’t shake like that when he’s running.”
“Ah...yes...it does.” Knox’s skeptical brow arced.
“I don’t see him,” Swan said, her hand swinging out to hold her brother’s arm. “It stopped. Do you still feel it?”
“Nope.” Fabal itched the side of his nose. “I wonder what it was.”
Suddenly, it happened a second time. Transfixed, the children felt the vibrations underneath the soles of their feet. Above, tree branches shimmied and swayed, releasing its last vestige of russet colored leaves.
“What the heck is going on?” An ominous cracking split the air; Knox looked skyward. “Watch out!” He tackled Fabal and Swan out of harms way from falling limbs. One branch lanced he ground like a spike in front of them.
“Feels like an earthquake.” Swan’s tone quavered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The earth shook as Smelt sprinted in the lead. Doogan, Fulvio, Ennis and Gus vying for position in the rear. Before their eyes, the city seemed to be dismantling piece by piece. A cacophony of catastrophic proportions erupted.
“The city’s caving,” Gus said. He jumped over a serrated crevice widening with each tremor. An anguished cry caught his ear; he kinked his neck to peer over his shoulder. He recognized the girl who had attacked him earlier, tumbling to the shuddering pavement. His heels dug into the ground, then rotated and ran toward the fallen girl.
In the mix of calamity, Doogan filched Gus’s arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted over the racket. “Get out of here. NOW!”
“A girl. Over there.” Gus denoted while jarring free of his hold. “She needs help.”
Doogan looked backward at the rise and fall of undulating formations and cracking pits. The girl lay a hundred yards crosswise from their location. Assuming Gus’s intentions, he warned, “You won’t make it out.”
“Doogan—!” Fulvio yelled, clambering over a downed telephone pole. “Get your ass in gear!”
“I gotta try,” Gus shouted over the deafening noise.
Doogan witnessed fortitude in his eyes, no deterring him. Lollygagging for the perfect answer wasn’t an option. “Do it.” Doogan turned and jogged toward the girl as well.
The atmosphere deteriorated, bucketing residue of everything imaginable. Glass shavings ripped at Doogan’s skin as he knelt beside the unconscious girl. He wiped down his face only to come away blood stained. Gus swooped to gather the girl into his arms, but Doogan noticed tense lines dominating his expression.
“My arm’s killing me,” Gus said, gnarled in pain. “I don’t have the strength.” Outstretching the arm with the spider bite inflamed swelling had stretched to his elbow.
“I got her.” Doogan scooped the girl into his arms, a featherweight. His throat clotted with grit and fear. “Let’s get out of here.” He cradled her to his chest, and with Gus leading the way, they raced.
Evading wreckage, earthen fissures, and a medley of vegetation, Doogan carried the girl toward the outskirts of the city. The earth was falling apart destabilizing their feet. Up ahead the land sawed apart. They skidded to a stop with scree spitting into the gap. Glancing downward into the crevice, they had no alternative but to jump, and jump quickly before it widened. Doogan slung the unconscious girl over his shoulder, and backward stepping calculated the spread. A brief prayer of providence, he ran and lunged.
They soared up and over landing on the balls of his feet. The girl juggled like a rag doll, the momentum carrying them faster than anticipated. Head and shoulders leaned into the wind; he righted the girl’s frame, skating on his knees. He climbed to his feet, spinning around looking for Gus. “Gus—”
“Help! Help! I’m losing it.”
Doogan rolled the girl from his shoulders. He ran to find Gus dangling, gripping the peeling crevice edge. His swollen arm slipped, upsetting his shoulder and taking another arm with it. Clinging with five fingertips, his body swung like a pendulum. The pavement heaved, breaking what little purchase Gus had sustained.
Doogan flew over the edge seizing Gus’s wrist. “Grab my arm! Hold on.” Mustering strength, it seemed nearly impossible as the serrated pavement cut into his sternum. Sweat poured along his temples, gritting his teeth; he was afraid the boy wasn’t going to make it. “C’mon, Gus. You can do it.” Gus tried to swing his arms upward but failed miserably.
“Let me go. I’m not taking you with me.” Gus cried, becoming a dead weight.
“Don’t do this to me. Grab my fucking arm. I’m pulling you out.”
Doogan’s muscles convulsed as Gus managed to clamp his fingers around his forearm. Land dissolved around them as he heaved Gus from the devouring fracture. Both men lay lengthwise on the asphalt, eliciting cussed relief.
“You okay?” Doogan surveyed the boy’s terrified, yet, relieved, dirt-smudged face.
Gus woozily inched to unsound legs. He bowed at the waist bracing his hands on his knees to gain his equilibrium. “Yeah, let’s go.”
In one fell swoop, Doogan slipped the cataleptic girl into his arms and trotted. Showering fragments sliced the air knocking an unsteady Gus to his knees. He seemed to handle a perfectly executed somersault, rolling to his feet.
“Go! Go! Go!” Doogan barked, zigzagging past.
The earth groaned and wailed beneath them. It took all of Doogan’s concentration and energy to run from the disintegrating metropolis. Squinting through the maelstrom, he detected Fulvio astride a jouncing Zennith, waving his hat in the air screaming something. Breathlessly jogging the last yards past the tarry roadway with Gus beside him, they scampered toward the horses.
“Gus, move the truck.” Fulvio endeavored to steady a skittery stallion. “Drive north. Hurry.”
“Doogan, c’mon!” Ennis hollered from the whirring helio.
Stationed on the buckboard wagon, Smelt reined a whickering Gingersnap.
“Doogan,” Fulvio cried, “get in the helio and take off.”
“Not until I see everyone safely away.”
“My boy, you are a stubborn cuss.” Fulvio heeled Zennith; man and horse galloped after the fleeing Gus and Smelt.
Doogan climbed into the craft and deposited the girl on the metal flooring. Gripping her chin, he turned her head to see a contusion on her temple. His stomach lurched as the helio started to ascend, and then he ventured into the front seat.
“Is she alright?” Ennis asked taking a quick peek over his shoulder. Then fixing his eyes on a grim-faced Doogan streaked with blood and ash.
“Don’t know. She’s breathing.” Doogan chased a hand over his face, then rubbed the wetness on his jeans and signaled. “Look.”
“Oh. My. God,” Ennis said, awestruck. The helio hovered in the crusty atmosphere.
“I hope those people got out alive.” Doogan’s breath came out in spurts.
“We know one did.” Ennis’s head jerked toward the girl.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Doogan picked up the hem of his T-shirt to scrub his burning eyes. “It’s as if the planet is eating itself.”
What was once a city taken over by vegetation was now it the throes self-healing. Vast lands cracked and divided, gobbling buildings, streets, and bridges. Looking like a commodious orifice, the city succumbed into the netherworld. The tumultuous landslide slowly came to a rocky standstill, leaving in its stead mountainous earth. And even as they gazed at the stupendous sight, anomalous greenery and saplings wrestled through dirt to the light.
“Turn toward the mountain.” Doogan shifted in his seat worried about his fam
ily. “Did the quake hit there?”
Ennis maneuvered the craft from whence it came. “A few cracks and downed trees, but it looks alright.”
“Our crew is heading for the valley.” Doogan exhaled a long-winded breath. “But I’d like to take a fly over to make sure our little settlement is okay.”
“Not unless we find fuel.” Ennis offered a negative shake of his head. “This baby is done for.” As if hearing and understanding his calculation, the helio coughed and sputtered. “Oh shit.”
“There was that out-of-the-way gas station right before the valley, remember?” Doogan clicked his seat belt, just in case.
“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Ennis steered the craft northward. “I hope we make it.” He examined the altimeter and toggled a switch, cutting the engine. With the voluble engine and propellers turned off, all was hushed, except for the rush of wind.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“Don’t sweat.” Ennis held the wheel steady. “Saving fuel. We’re going to see how far we can get by riding the current.”
“Oh shit.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Accompanied by splintered branches and wafting flora, Tibbles speedily transported the children on his backside. Their names were being called— “Fabal. Knox. Swan. Where are you?”—as they came in view of the cave’s entrance, Tibbles stopped. Instead of the bear’s usual jerked dismount of bodies, he cautiously lay on the ground and waited for Fabal and Swan to help Knox disembark. Negligible aftershocks rumbled the ground as people rallied into spacious areas, away from falling trees and rolling boulders.
“Mom, what’s happening?” Fabal asked. Parroting Swan’s previous observation, he said, “Do you think it’s an earthquake?”
“I don’t know.” Appearing fretful, she smoothed her palms over her crossed arms. Her head tilted toward the sky. “It stopped.”
“You’re worried about Dad, aren’t you?”
Freeing entwined arms, she reached to comb through his hair. “Yes—always.” Her fingers left his hair to cup his chin. “I’m sick of waiting around aren’t you?”
Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2) Page 7