Authors: Andrea K Höst
Nash was more obviously Blue, with all of the back of his
neck that shade, the stars rather faint, and Gav – wearing a black blazer over
a school uniform similar to Fish's – stripped it off to reveal all of his left
arm and most of his right was blazing with light against a midnight field.
"Only Blues are out and about, I think," he said,
hooking the blazer over a chair. "We fell over quickest, once the stain showed up, but the Greens at
school can still barely get out of bed."
"School? You
stayed at your school?"
"We're from
Rushies
," Pan
explained, gesturing at an embroidered gold crest on the blazer. "Rushcutters Bay Grammar. It's one of the biggest boarding schools in
Sydney. Two-thirds of the students are
day boys, but the rest of us are either from out of town, or overseas. No way to get–"
He broke off as Noi emerged from the kitchen, first aid kit
in one hand, and a baking tray half-full of scones balanced on the other.
"One of you grab the jam and butter I set out," she
said. "There's drinks in the
walk-in to the right."
She handed the tray off to Nash and then began sorting
through the first aid kit while everyone else attacked the scones. Even Madeleine had another, surprised at
herself.
"Is this extreme appetite thing going to keep up, do you
think?" she asked Nash.
"Who can tell?" He didn't seem as hungry as his friends, only eating one scone for the
pile they'd inhaled. "
BlueGreen
– one of the data compilation sites – is
suggesting that the stars indicate some level of stored energy, and that is why
there's a need for increased food intake. Did both of you experience the surge after the stars developed?"
"Surge?" Noi
paused, holding a pad of antiseptic-soaked cotton wool. "The poltergeist imitation? Yeah, I sent our coffee table flying."
Madeleine nodded, and rubbed her arm where her shirt hid a
plaster-treated cut.
"It may relate to the field which stops anyone from
approaching the Spires," Nash said. "The Spire has stars. Blues
have stars. The Spire has a shield. Blues experience the surge. And only Blues are so ridiculously
hungry. So far." He sighed, and looked quickly at
Noi's
patient, who had shifted in response to her
dabbing. "We went down to Circular
Quay after trying the Spire, because someone had reported a Blue dog, and small
animals surviving are so rare we wanted to document it."
"An exercise in futility, with bonus rotting
seagulls," Pan said. "Gav, you
have a car, right? I don't think Fish is
going to be up to a walk even if he does wake up."
"Right." Gav
grabbed his blazer and another scone and headed to the door. "See you soon."
"I think he'll be okay," Noi said, as Pan hovered
at her elbow. "He at least reacts
to the antiseptic, and there wasn't that much bleeding. Is he a good friend of yours?"
"Fish? Never even
spoke to him before Friday. I think I
might have seen him once or twice, but he's in year eleven – Nash and I are
year ten – and Fish is a day boy."
"Then why was
he
still at the school?" Madeleine asked, reasonably. School was the last place she would have
wanted to hang out.
"Microscopes.
Rushies
is big on Theatre and Science, so the school's all
auditoriums and laboratories. Fish
stayed up Thursday night studying himself. Then he moved on to everyone else. Did I tell you I went off at him, Nash?"
"It does not surprise me, temper-boy," Nash said,
brows lifting.
"After he recovered from the surge, he divided everyone
up," Pan explained. "So now we
have Greens Dorm, Blues Dorm, and the big one for those who didn't make it. Fish broke the Greens up into groups and tried
different things on them. Aspirin, heat
packs, cold packs, sugary drinks, water only. Teddy – Teddy Rasmussen from 10B – he was doing so bad, and Fish told me
to switch him from hot packs to cold packs and keep checking his pulse and
writing down all the changes and I just started shouting. Told him I never knew anyone better suited to
their name, that fish were warm in comparison. He just waited until I wound down and then asked me if I knew the best
way to take out a zombie."
"Head shot," Noi said promptly.
Pan nodded at her. "And wooden stakes for vampires, and silver bullets for
werewolves. And penicillin for
bacteria. But we don't have the
slightest idea what to do about dust and starry towers. Information is a weapon, a defence, a first
step to everything according to Fish, and we need to gather as much as possible
before the next wave of infections, so we can act rather than react. He and the other big contributors on
BlueGreen
even think they've found a way to increase
Green survival rates. So I've wanted to
punch him a few times, but I'm feeling a bit 'Oh, Captain! My Captain!' at the
moment as well. All the teachers left,
y'know
? Had their
own families to look after, though I guess some of them meant to come
back. Fish stayed, and now he's gone and
fallen down some stairs. Which is
distinctly uncool of him, really."
Nash reached out and put a calming hand on the shorter boy's
shoulder, and Pan let out his breath.
"End soliloquy," he muttered. "But, damn, it would be stupid to die
from falling down, after all this."
"Seriously, I don't think he's that bad," Noi said,
snapping the kit shut. "His heart
rate and breathing seem to be normal, anyway, and that's as far as my basic
first aid is going to take us. We'll put
some ice on the lump, see if that helps. How many are left at that school of yours? Do you need food to take back?"
They moved to the kitchen, discussing the boarding school's
catering resources, and perishable food which should be eaten first. Of the three hundred boarders at the school,
sixty-two were still alive. Twelve
Blues, and the rest Greens not ready to look after themselves. The Fish boy had probably collapsed from
exhaustion, rather than hunger or mystery attacks.
"Is your name really Pan?" Noi asked, hunting out a
box to hold milk and meat while Madeleine wrapped ice in a cloth serviette.
"Lee Rickard, at your service," Pan said, with a
little bow.
"Then why Pan?"
"Can't you guess? Should I go find some green tights? I've played him three times – totally typecast." He mimed a quick sword fight, dancing around
the cramped kitchen. "And this is
Avinash Sharma. Gav is Gavin Wells, and
sleeping beauty out there is Fisher Charteris."
Madeleine glanced through the one-way panel set in the
kitchen door and started, because 'sleeping beauty' was gone. She pushed the door open, and spotted him
standing in the outdoor eating section. As she watched he lifted a shaky hand to his head, and sat down on the
nearest chair.
Fish – Fisher – didn't react as she approached, all his
attention focused out, and up. Madeleine
paused before speaking because she still didn't have her sketch pad and she
badly wanted to draw all five of her new acquaintances, but this one most of
all. With those dark, straight brows he
must always appear a trifle severe, but right now, his light brown eyes fixed
on the Spire, he looked positively murderous.
"Plotting revenge?" Her attempt at lightness fell flat as he jumped, then clutched his head
all the harder. "Sorry. Try this." She pressed the serviette against his head,
then almost dropped it when he tried to bat it away. Once he'd realised what it was and took hold,
she stepped back because now his glare was directed at her.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"I just – well, you looked angry."
The glare faded, and he glanced back at the Spire. "Aren't you? All this useless death. Don't you want to tear that down and stamp on
the pieces?"
"I–" Madeleine felt off-balance, and wondered if there was something wrong
with her for not feeling that way. "I guess I've been thinking of it as a natural disaster," she
said. "Though I suppose 'natural'
is entirely the wrong word for giant starry towers."
"Fish!" Pan
led the others out of the restaurant, and slid a box of food onto a nearby
table. "Damn, you had us
worried. What happened? Were you attacked?"
The older boy stared at him blankly, then his mouth twisted
with sudden amusement. "Did he fall
or was he pushed?" he asked. "I wish I could pretend to something less feeble than feeling
dizzy. Where's Gavin?"
"Gone to get his car. Madeleine and Noi here found you."
Fisher seemed a unhurried sort of person, taking his time
looking first Noi and then Madeleine up and down. His gaze lingered on Madeleine's starry feet
and she self-consciously tucked them beneath the hem of her dress, prompting a
quick look of comprehension.
"You both have stain covering at least a quarter of your
bodies, yes?" he said, with an air of a theory confirmed. "Only the stronger Blues seem to be
fully recovered, even though the surge initially left us barely able to
move."
"Lucky us." Noi held up her hands, the palms glimmering with light. "I can't stand not knowing what comes
next. Will that thing spit out more
dust? Will we keep changing?"
"What happens next is rotting corpses," Fisher
said, surveying the city skyline, window upon mute window. "Because people went home to die, it
isn't as bad as it could be, but at the very least it will be unpleasant. It may even be a bigger problem around the
city fringes, where the survival rate is higher, and the living are more
thoroughly mixed with the dead. The
government needs to stop futilely trying to ban travel, and start finding a way
to arrange corpse disposal. Or at least
ensure that the water supply isn't compromised, so we don't exchange one
sickness for another."
"They'll stop flailing eventually," Pan said. "Maybe. It's better to still have the government than be like the US, anyway,
with all its new presidents. And
China. And Pakistan and...and...hey,
nuclear weapons aren't kept near big cities, right?"
"If it's nuclear you're worried about, concentrate on
power plants," Nash put in. "And, see that?" He
pointed at a distant thread of smoke rising beyond the parkland which blocked
their view of the harbour centre and the North Shore. "That is our now. Non-automated, high manpower vital services,
like fire fighters and doctors – none of those are here. International transport is...not necessarily
gone, just limited. In the medium term
we will see fuel rationing. At this time
there are thousands of functioning towns and cities worldwide, with police and
hospitals and all that we're used to, but they're overwhelmed by all the people
who've fled out of the Spire cities, and transport of food will be
limited. Add to that the dust still
circulating on the wind, meaning there will continue to be outbreaks, anywhere
and everywhere. But...so far there has
been no sign that this is transmissible person-to-person, so we are not beyond
the point of recovery."
Nash glanced up at the Spire, not adding the obvious caveat,
then turned his gaze on the long wharf stretching out into the water.
"Tyler Vaughn lives here," he remarked, giving
Madeleine a tiny shock.
"So do Nikki Zee and Jason
Kadia
,"
Noi said, nodding. "I think only
Nikki Zee's in residence right now, though. I saw Tyler Vaughn a few times when I first started working here, since
he uses the restaurants a lot. But not
lately."
"Filming
Five
Blades
in LA," Pan said knowledgably. "Which, dammit, I was looking forward to."
Not at all wanting to talk about Tyler, Madeleine unhooked
the pair of glasses she'd rescued and handed them to Fisher. "We managed not to stand on these,"
she said.
"Thanks." He
held them up so he could look through the lenses, then tucked them away. "Something far from easily
replaced."
"Food does not worry me as much as medicine," Nash
said. "Any kind of–" He looked down, eyes widening, and fished a
phone from a pocket, glanced at the screen and was beaming by the time he
brought it to his ear.
"Saashi!" With an apologetic gesture he turned, talking rapidly in a language
Madeleine didn't recognise, and walked a little way down the wharf.
"His sister," Pan explained. "He hasn't been able to get through to
her, and wasn't sure if she was in Mumbai or still on location." At
Noi's
confused
look he added: "Nash is from a big-time Bollywood film family. Mum's an actress, Dad is a producer.
Saashi's
just
starting out as a director."
"So which one is Nash aiming to be?" Noi asked,
with an appreciative glance at the tall, well-made boy. "Are they the singing, dancing kinds of
Bollywood movies?"
"Most of them. Nash dances like a dream, but he's a horrible singer. Not that he'll let that stop him – he'll
probably end up directing after a few years acting, then h-he'll–" Pan stuttered to a halt, his lively features
falling still.
After a moment, Noi began deliberately peppering Fisher with
questions, producing a brief lecture on decomposition, cholera and
quicklime. Madeleine found herself
watching, aware of a familiar sense of withdrawal and disliking herself for
it. For the last few years people had
been something she loved to draw, but no longer allowed herself to be drawn to,
which was not an attitude suited to current circumstances. But still she felt that distance.
The arrival of an apple-green Volkswagen – the curve-top
model from the 2000s – was a welcome distraction. Madeleine took a box, and followed along
behind Fisher, glad to see that while he moved with care he was no longer
wobbly.
"What the hell is with your taste in cars, Gav?"
Pan asked as they reached the roadside.
The strawberry blonde boy grinned as he popped open the
compact boot. "Girls love it,"
he explained, and mock-leered at Noi and Madeleine. "Suddenly inspired to get to know me
better, right?"