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 ablebodied 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 slit 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,
