Читать книгу Partials - Dan Wells - Страница 10

Private Brown rushed toward Kira, grabbing her in a full tackle and dropping her to the ground beside a parked car. “Stay down!”

“What’s going on?”

“Just stay down!” Brown pulled out his radio and thumbed the call button. “Sergeant, this is Shaylon. Are you taking fire, over!”

The radio crackled; nothing but white noise.

“Someone’s shooting at us?” asked Kira.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking Jayden,” said Brown, and thumbed the radio again. “Sergeant, do you read? What’s your situation?”

The radio buzzed emptily, Kira and Brown staring at it desperately—an explosion could be an accident, or the Voice, or even Partials, for all they knew. Was this an attack? An invasion? The radio said nothing; then abruptly Jayden’s voice tore out of it in a ragged burst of static.

“Site three was rigged to blow! Five men trapped inside—get the medics up here ASAP!”

Brown whirled toward the clinic, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. “Casualties at site three!” Kira started running before he even turned back—she could see the smoke rising up from the site, not more than a mile down the road. Brown fell into step behind her, his rifle held tightly in front as he pelted full speed down the road. Kira felt for her medical bag, whispered a silent thank-you to whatever had kept it on her shoulder, and lowered her head for a sprint. Brown barely kept up with her.

She saw Jayden first, standing on the cab of an overgrown truck with a pair of binoculars, scanning the full circle of the horizon. Next was the wagon, the left front wheel blown off and at least two of the horses down, the others whinnying in terror. Last of all she saw the building—a smoking ruin between two other structures, like a tower of wooden blocks thrown down by an angry child. One of the soldiers was dragging another by the hands, pulling him clear of the wreckage. Kira dropped next to the fallen man, one hand on his wrist to check his pulse while the other probed his chest and neck for injuries.

“I’m fine,” the soldier coughed. “Get the civvies.”

Kira nodded and sprang back to her feet, staring at the shattered house in shock—where should she even start? She grabbed the standing soldier and pulled him away from the fallen one.

“Where are the others?”

“The basement,” he said, pointing down. “This corner.”

“Then help me get in there.”

“The building was two stories tall—they’re completely buried.”

“Then help me get in there,” she insisted again, pulling him toward the house. Kira was already picking her way through the rubble when Marcus arrived, still out of breath.

“Holy . . . crap.”

Kira delved deeper into the ruin. “Mr. Turner!” she called. “Ms. Cantrell! Can either of you hear me?” She and the soldier froze, listening, and Kira pointed to the floor on her left. “Down there.”

They knelt down, flipping aside a wide piece of ruined flooring. She paused, and heard it again—a faint flutter, like a gasp or a muffled cough. She pointed at a section of brick and the soldier helped her move it, handing up bricks to Marcus and Sparks and the other soldiers, all scrabbling at the wreckage to clear it away. Kira shouted again and heard a feeble answer.

“Right here,” said a voice. Kira recognized the feminine timbre, knew it was Gianna, and hefted up a piece of fallen furniture. The soldiers pulled it up and out of the hole, and underneath, Gianna grunted in pain. “Thank the gods.”

Kira slithered farther into the hole to help her. “Are you still pinned?”

“I don’t think so,” said Gianna. Kira grabbed her hand firmly, bracing herself on another section of overturned floor. She lost her grip, slid down, and felt a strong hand grab hers from behind.

“I’ve got you,” said Kira, “and they’ve got me. Keep coming.” Slowly Gianna pulled herself free of the broken wood and bricks, and Kira hauled her up inch by inch. When Gianna was high enough, the strong hand on Kira’s pulled them both to the top of the pile, and Kira turned to see Jayden straining with the effort.

“Thanks,” said Kira.

He nodded. “Help me find the other one.”

Kira turned back to the hole. “Mr. Turner! Can you hear me?”

“He was next to me when the bomb went off,” Gianna panted. “He can’t be very far.”

Kira scrambled back down the hole, still calling his name. “Mr. Turner! Andrew!” She paused, listening closely, and bent down as far as she could. Nothing. She leaned back, examining the wreckage, trying to guess where he might have ended up.

“Behind that stone,” said Gianna, pointing past her to a large, flat rock standing upright in the rubble. “There was a fireplace in the basement, like a big chimney, all done in stone instead of brick. Probably the oldest part of the house.”

“We’ll never be able to move it,” said Marcus. Kira slithered down next to it, leaning in close.

“Andrew Turner!” shouted Marcus, but Kira shushed him.

“Quiet, I’m going to try something.”

The dust settled, and the air was still. Kira opened her medkit and pulled out the stethoscope—one of the digital models with sound amplification. She thumbed the switch, silently praying that the battery hadn’t degraded, and pressed the scope to the rubble.

Pom, pom, pom, pom . . .

“It’s his heartbeat,” Kira called out. “He’s right under the fallen chimney.”

“Those stones are propping up half the house,” said Marcus. “We’re not moving them.”

“As long as his heart’s beating, we are,” said Jayden. “Out of the way, Walker.” He slid down next to Kira and called for help from the others. “Yoon, get me rope, and tie the other end to one of the horses.” A moment later the soldier dropped a stiff nylon cord in between them, and Jayden huffed, reaching out to loop the rope around the rock. Kira pressed the scope to the stone again.

Pom, pom, pom.

“I can still hear the heartbeat.” She turned, looking for beams of wood. “Marcus is right, though—if we move this now, the whole first floor will come down on him. Here, brace it with this.” She pulled on a long joist, still attached to shards of wooden flooring, and Jayden shoved it into place, propping up the rubble.

“All set.” Jayden called out orders to the wagon driver. “Take her forward, Yoon! More . . . more . . . okay, the line’s taut, now just an inch at a time.”

The rope stretched tight; Kira couldn’t see the stone move, but she could hear it scraping loudly against the stone floor below. “It’s working!” she shouted.

Jayden called more orders to Yoon. “Keep going—nice and slow, that’s perfect. Now ready on the line.” The stone dislodged from its hole, and Jayden grunted as he helped shove it to the side.

Kira turned to the open hole, eyeing the makeshift support beam nervously, when a shape in the darkness stopped her cold. She hadn’t seen it before—it had been behind the stone.

It was a human leg, severed just above the knee.

“No,” she murmured. She reached forward cautiously, probing the jagged edge where the bone had broken. Crushed, she thought, feeling the damage. The chimney fell and snapped his leg right off. How can he still be alive? She pressed her scope against the next stone.

Pom, pom, pom.

“Bloody hell,” said Jayden, crouching behind her, “is that his leg?”

“It means we’re close.”

“It means he’s dead,” said Jayden. “That chimney would have pulverized him.”

“I told you I can hear his heartbeat,” Kira hissed. “Give me the rope.”

The rubble shifted, and Kira closed her mouth and eyes tightly against a hail of rocks and dust. The rafter above her groaned, and she heard shouts of alarm from the soldiers above.

“Get her out of there!” called Marcus.

“He’s right,” said Jayden. “This is coming down around us any second. One dead man isn’t worth losing a medic.”

“I’m telling you, he’s alive.”

“Get out,” Jayden snapped. “If we can’t dig him out of here, we definitely can’t dig you out.”

“This is a human life,” said Kira. “We don’t have any of those to spare right now.”

“Get out!”

Kira gritted her teeth and inched forward; Jayden swore behind her, reaching for her feet, but she kicked him away.

Pom, pom, pom.

She felt the next stone in front of her, testing for handholds, probing its stability. I think I can move this one, she thought. He’s got to be right on the other side of it, and then they’ll see. I know he’s alive.

“Hey, Mr. Turner,” she shouted, “can you hear me? I’m coming to get you—we’re not leaving you behind.” She braced herself on the basement floor, praying she didn’t dislodge anything vital, and pushed on the largest stone, feeling it rotate slightly against a stiff, off-center axis. She pushed again, straining at the weight, then shoved the stone to the side. There was another shape in the darkness, too twisted for her to recognize the outline. She thumbed the scope again, reaching forward desperately.

Dit, dit, dit, dit . . .

Wait, thought Kira, that’s not right, and then her fingers brushed against slick, wet flesh. She caught a piece of fabric between two fingers and pulled it closer, hearing the dit grow louder in the tiny cavern. She felt the bloody limb with both hands, refusing to believe it; she inched back toward the light and held it up, confirming it with her eyes.

“It’s his arm,” she said softly. “He’s gone.”

Jayden stared. “And the heartbeat?”

She held up the arm, the wrist glinting metallically. Dit, dit, dit. “His wristwatch.” She felt drained and lifeless. “He’s gone.”

Jayden pulled the arm away from her, steadying her with his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We have to take him back,” said Kira.

“This was not an accident,” said Jayden. “Someone came through here and set this bomb—someone who knew we were coming. They’re probably still nearby.”

Kira frowned. “Why would someone blow up a weather station?”

“It was a radio,” said Gianna. “We didn’t see it all before it blew, but I know that much for certain. This was the biggest communications hub I’ve ever seen.”

“Voice,” said Kira.

Jayden’s voice was low and grim. “And after that noise, they definitely know we’re here.”