I arrived at the meeting two hours late. Slipping into an empty seat beside Jacy, I glanced around the long oval table. The Committee had been comprised of one representative from each of the nine upper families and one leader from each scrub area like hydroponics and waste-water. Eighteen in all. Since an even number could cause problems when members voted, a nineteenth spokesperson had been added.
Despite repeated requests that I become the nineteenth member, I refused, preferring to be a part of the Committee as a consultant only. Less responsibility. Riley had been asked next, but he’d quipped that the Committee didn’t need both him and his father and he’d claimed that he would be more useful as support personnel.
They finally elected Jacy.
After my initial surprise at his appointment, and, when I thought it through, it made sense. He had taken over the organization and leadership of the rebellion when I had been captured by the Pop Cops. Plus he was well connected through his network of people in the lower levels.
I leaned close to him. “What did I miss?”
“They’re trying to decide which group can move into level five.”
“Group?” That was new.
“Once all six new levels are completed, the Committee thinks the nine families can share five levels and the scrubs, broken into groups by areas, can live in the other five.”
“That won’t work.”
“I know and you know, but try and explain it to those eighteen.” He swept his hand out. “They’re still thinking in terms of uppers and lowers.”
Which reminded me. “Are you aware of the labor strike?”
Jacy stared at me with a guarded expression. “Yep.”
“How do we get the workers back?”
“By having the uppers get their hands dirty for once.”
And Jacy just proved he also thought in terms of uppers and lowers. If I was being honest, I did as well. That was the problem. But I couldn’t figure out a solution.
Why should I? I’d done my part and found Gateway, led the rebellion and discovered the Expanse. The multiple scars on my arms, legs and torso from Pop Cop Commander Vinco’s knife proved I had sacrificed for the citizens of Inside.
I had also lost my closest friend, Cogon. He had acted more like a brother, and I missed him so much my insides felt rusted and brittle. Cog would have loved organizing the construction crews. He’d have insisted on perfection before moving on to another level.
Slouching in my chair, I let the Committee’s voices roll over me. They didn’t need me. The Committee would take us to the next stage.
After listening to the sixth scrub area representative list the reasons they should be the first to move into level five, I willed the clock to move faster. These meetings were a waste of my time. I could be spending these hours with Riley. The session went on and on. Assisting the Traitor with surgery grew more appealing with each minute. I lasted until hour fifty-nine.
“I’m outta here. I’m helping the…Doctor Lamont,” I whispered to Jacy.
“Will you be back before the vote?” he asked.
“Why? Nothing I say changes their minds.” Frustration and weariness welled, but I swallowed them down.
“You’ve given up, Trell. That’s not like you.”
“Sitting in endless meetings for twelve weeks isn’t like me either. I’m a big picture girl.” I tried a smile, but Jacy kept his frown. I made a sudden liberating decision. “Tell the Committee I’m resigning as a consultant and going back to what I do best.”
Shock, anger and censure warred on Jacy’s face. His lips moved for a moment before he spoke. “And what do you do best?”
“Explore. We have no idea how high up the Expanse’s ceiling is. What if I find another hatch at the top? There could be another Expanse filled with supplies. That’s just as important as arguing over who gets to move into the new levels first.”
I left before he could respond. For the first time since the rebellion, I strode through the bland white corridors of Inside feeling light as air. I couldn’t wait to tell Riley!
My good mood dissipated once I arrived at the infirmary and spotted Emek’s colorless face. Grimacing with pain, he clutched his sheets in tight fists. He wouldn’t respond to my questions. His skin felt cold and clammy. The Traitor wasn’t in the main room so I raced to the back.
She prepped for surgery. “You’re early.”
“Emek looks bad. When’s the last time you checked on him?”
Pushing by me, she ran to him. I caught up to her as she probed the skin below Emek’s waist with her fingers. He screamed.
“His appendix has burst.” She kicked off the brakes on the bed. “Move!”
I helped her roll him into surgery and we transferred him to the operating table. Then she issued rapid-fire orders. The experience, which usually passed by in a blur of blood and frantic activity, slowed this time. Even with the emergency, I anticipated her needs a few times and handed her instruments without being asked. Despite my resistance, I was learning.
As she worked to save Emek’s life, I no longer viewed her as the Traitor, but as Doctor Lamont. According to Doctor Sanchia, Lamont was the best diagnostician in our world and a skilled surgeon as well. More reasons she was here and not locked in the crowded holding cells with the Travas.
After sewing up Emek’s incision, Lamont told me to dress the wound as she adjusted the anesthesia. It didn’t take us long to finish. I wheeled him into the recovery room, which also served as the examination room.
Once the new levels were completed, the infirmaries on levels two and three would be combined into one large medical facility, spanning two grids. This had been an easy decision for the Committee. A shame they all weren’t.
Keeping an eye on his vital signs, I stayed with Emek until he stabilized. When he roused, we moved him to a regular bed in the main room. I ensured he was comfortable, helped him sip a glass of ginger water, then tucked him under a blanket as he drifted off to sleep.
I turned and met Lamont’s measuring gaze. She had watched me, but instead of commenting on my nurturing instincts, she checked Emek, nodded and returned to the operating room to clean up. Knowing the importance of a sterile area, I helped. We worked in silence, but the tension between us wasn’t quite as thick. When the surfaces gleamed and the place smelled of antiseptic, I tossed the dirty rags into a special medical bag and sent it down the laundry chute.
“You did well,” she said. “Thank you.”
I grunted a reply, heading to my room. The rush from the emergency surgery fizzled and exhaustion soaked into my bones.
“There’s a package on your bed from Logan,” Lamont said as I pushed open the door.
Good thing she had mentioned Logan’s name. Because if I hadn’t known he brought it here, I would have assumed it was from Lamont. Then I would have carried it to Lamont’s office and smashed the thing to little pieces. Instead, I set the vampire box on the table. The device had been used by the Pop Cops to test the scrubs for illegal drugs and pregnancy by taking blood samples. It could also settle the issue of my birth mother, determining if Lamont was indeed my parent. It had been Logan’s idea to use the box.
I stretched out on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I wondered why Logan sent it now. He knew I had no desire to prove the relationship. Lamont hadn’t acknowledged me—that was proof enough. Guess I would need to visit Logan and ask him.
Eventually I drifted to sleep. Floating in a sea of blackness and surrounded by nothing, I strained to reach solid ground. But my body thinned. My arms turned translucent. My legs disappeared. I dissolved into a void.
Sound and touch returned with a vengeance. A roar woke me. The noise rattled the floor and my bed lurched so hard it tossed me across the narrow room. I slammed into the wall along with the table. The vampire box clipped my forehead as it shattered against the sheet metal.
Loose items spun around and knocked into me as if the contents of my room had been stuffed into one of the huge laundry d
ryers and turned on.
The bluelight died, plunging me into darkness. Then it all stopped. I ended up sprawled in a heap on the floor amid a pile of debris. Dazed and confused, I stayed still, trying to clear my head.
Then the silence hit me. As familiar as the beat of my own heart, the Hum had always rumbled throughout Inside. A comforting constant noise noticed more on a subconscious level than noted on a conscious level.
The Hum meant the power plant was doing its job, producing electricity and heat, keeping us alive.
Silence meant the opposite. Until that moment, I hadn’t known true terror.
2
IN THE BLACKNESS OF MY ROOM, I UNTANGLED FROM the heap and stood. A wave of dizziness hit, spinning me back onto the ground. Pressing my fingers to my temple, I touched a tender spot covered with a sticky wetness—blood. I probably had a concussion.
Unable to trust my legs, I crawled, shoving aside debris as I moved toward the door. Or so I hoped. In the darkness, direction was hard to determine.
My hand touched a round dome, and I picked up my exploring helmet with a cry of triumph. Funny how the small things become important in an emergency. I donned the helmet, toggling on the light.
I faced the wrong way and the room was a mess—no surprise. A thick glass splinter jutted from my right forearm—a surprise since it didn’t hurt. Of course once I stared at the blood welling from the wound, pain shot up my arm. Basic first aid instructions that I’d learned when I lived in the care facility replayed in my mind. I left the glass in place.
The crushed innards of the vampire box crunched beneath me as I reached the door. Despite my refusal to use the box, the damn thing had still gotten my blood via the glass shard.
I stumbled through the door and illuminated another disaster area. The sitting room appeared as if a giant had upended all the furniture. I checked Lamont’s bedroom. It mirrored mine, but at least she wasn’t trapped under debris.
The sudden understanding that whatever had shaken Inside most likely caused major injuries and maybe death, cleared the confused fog from my mind in a microsecond. Energized, I wove through the carnage of the apartment. Ignoring the disaster area that used to be her office and exam room, I reached the patient area.
I swept the light around the broken beds. Emek waved a bloody hand from underneath a pile. Digging through the debris, I uncovered him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“No idea. Are you injured?”
“I woke up on the floor.”
“Any pain?”
“Don’t think so.”
I righted a bed, returned the mattress and helped Emek lie down. A groan sounded across the room. I followed it to the other patient. She had a gash on her cheek, but I couldn’t find any other injuries.
“Is Doctor Lamont all right?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen her,” I said.
“She was right here before…”
What to call it? The Big Shake? Then the thought of Lamont being one of the casualties sent panic, fear and…grief?…shooting through my heart. It triggered another horrible possibility—Riley. He could be hurt or worse.
My first impulse was to run to his apartment and check on him, but he could be anywhere. The ten-hour shifts had ceased after the rebellion and no other schedule had replaced it yet. Once I settled my out-of-control pulse, I decided to stay here. Riley knew my location. He would come to me. If he could.
I searched the infirmary and found Lamont unconscious and bleeding from a nasty gouge on her head. Something like relief flowed through me, but, if asked, I would deny the feeling. After I hefted her into a bed and bandaged her wound, I worked to get ready for the inevitable arrival of the injured.
As I rushed to clean up, redlights came on. I skidded to a stop. Redlights? That was new. And creepy. I’d never seen it before or even heard stories from the old-timers. In Inside, bluelights stayed on for sleeping or in temporarily unoccupied areas. Daylights brightened occupied rooms and work places. Darkness stayed in places like the Gap between levels, and closed rooms. In the Expanse, there had been a couple rows of bluelights in the Expanse, marking the walls.
I switched off my light and removed the helmet. The eerie red glow gave enough illumination to see, which meant I had little to no time before my “guests” showed up.
At first, they trickled in, coming in pairs or by themselves, seeking medical treatment. The trickle transformed into a stream then a deluge. I recruited those who had carried friends. We divided the injured into three groups—bad, really bad and dire. The first two groups were taken next door to Quad A3—a common area. The last stayed in the main infirmary.
Then the emergencies arrived. Panicked, I flipped the switch that called Doctor Sanchia even though I knew he would be swamped with his own problems up on level four. I tore through the piles on the floor under the supply cabinets, searching for smelling salts to wake Lamont.
When I found them, I broke the package open and waved it under her nose.
She jerked away, but opened her eyes. “Trella? What—”
Her eyes cleared as I rushed to explain. By the time I finished, she was on her feet and issuing orders. Every able-bodied person was pressed into service. She took one look at the glass shard in my arm and yanked it out.
“Wrap it for now. We’ll deal with it later,” she said.
The hours blurred together. It seemed complete and utter chaos was but a moment away, yet somehow Lamont kept us on track. I sewed stitches until my fingers turned numb. Set bones until my arms ached. The bandage around my forearm dripped blood, but I had no idea if it was mine or not.
At one point a mechanical voice boomed. Everyone froze for a second as an announcement played. “Citizens of Inside, please do not panic.”
Too late.
“All life support systems are fully operational,” it continued. “Please remain at your posts. Those off-duty, please remain in your barracks and apartments. Anyone with medical experience is asked to report to the infirmaries on levels four, three and two. More information will be relayed when available.”
We all stared at each other for a moment. Who was speaking, the computer or one of the Committee members? Before the rebellion, only the Travas had made announcements. However, nothing like this had happened when the Travas held power.
Just like the redlights, the mechanical voice was probably an automatic safety measure. After another minute of stunned silence, activity resumed and I gave up keeping track of anything.
But all through the frantic hours, bits and pieces of what had happen started to emerge. From half caught conversations and comments, I learned the power plant had caused the Big Shake. The plant occupied Quadrant C on all four levels. And the most severely injured were from Sectors B, F and a few from E. All shared a wall with Quad C. Which explained why the infirmary—Sector B3—had been in such disarray.
At some point, the daylights returned, which meant we had power again. Eventually, the flow of patients eased and dribbled. I filled a tray with glasses of water and handed them out. A numb exhaustion had soaked into me, muting my emotions and slowing my reactions.
For the first time since the…accident, I saw faces. Before I had focused on the injuries. But now I searched for those I recognized.
Half of me was relieved not to see Riley among them, but the other half was terrified that his lifeless body was in the pile on level one, waiting to be fed to Chomper. Other horrible scenarios danced through my tired mind. His body hadn’t been discovered yet. He clung to life in level four’s infirmary. He was trapped, pinned under a heavy piece of machinery.
I reached for another glass, but my tray was empty. Staring at the ripple pattern on the metal, I tried to remember what I should do as I swayed. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders from behind and guided me to my room. The bed had been cleared and the hands encouraged me to lie down.
My weak protests were ignored. Unable to resist, I collapsed onto the mattress and through a sl
it in my heavy eyelids, I saw Doctor Lamont. She pulled a blanket over me. And the touch of her lips on my forehead was my last memory.
Familiar voices woke me. They argued. I tried to produce the energy to care, failed and rolled over to return to sleep. But my mind wouldn’t cooperate. It mulled and tugged until it plucked the proper memory from the depths, exposing it in a series of images. The Big Shake. The injured. Beds filled with people. Blood everywhere.
I lurched to my feet and ran from my room. My sudden exit surprised the two people on the other side of my door. Not caring I almost knocked Lamont down, I flung myself into Riley’s arms.
He squeezed me as I clung to him. Questions poured from my mouth. “Are you all right? Where have you been? What happened?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been helping Doctor Sanchia. Logan—”
I pulled back. “Is he…” The word stuck in my throat.
“He’ll be all right.” Riley swept my sleep-tousled hair from my eyes. “He looks better than you.” He rubbed his thumb lightly over the cut on my forehead. “This needs a few stitches. Want me to sew you up?”
I studied his face and realized he was half serious. “Doctor Sanchia let you suture wounds?”
“He didn’t have much choice. We were swamped with people.” Riley feigned nonchalance, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just a needle and thread. I’ve repaired rips in Sheepy before so I was more than qualified.” Humor sparked in his blue eyes.
My mouth formed an automatic smile whenever I thought of Sheepy and his mother. The stuffed animal family had a special place in my heart. “I hope Sheepy and Mama Sheepy weren’t damaged.”
“They’re fine. I checked on them before coming here. I do have my priorities straight,” he teased.
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