They were just about to go through the third rank when the enemy all screamed at once, and the pounding of their feet got much louder and faster, with the drums suddenly booming twice as fast and horns blaring as well. At the same time, Helve and some other sergeants were shouting, “Second rank! Throw!” though even their legendary voices were almost lost in the din.
Ray knew the enemy had charged, and two seconds later, he almost felt the shock wave of sound and movement as the Nithlings’ front rank crashed into the locked shields of his comrades and the air was filled with screams and cries and curses, the hiss of superheated spears and the ratcheting screech of savage-swords meeting Nithling armor.
“Third rank, throw! Fourth rank, advance!”
Ray had only just reached the fourth rank. He swiveled around as the whole line advanced, and he and Fred wedged themselves in, raising their power-spears as they did so.
As he saw as well as heard the indescribable pandemonium, with the Nithling and the Denizen front ranks intermixed in violent battle, Ray Green was totally in the
present. There was no part of his mind trying to remember anything of his past, but as his body obeyed without thought, the power-spear soaring out of his hand and into the rear ranks of the enemy, he had a sudden flash of memory. He was throwing something—a white ball—and someone else was shouting at him, “Way to go, Arthur Penhaligon!”
The name resonated in Ray’s mind so powerfully that for an instant he wasn’t even aware of the incredible tumult of the battle.
“I’m not Ray Green!” he shouted. “I’m Arthur Penhaligon!”
S
ylvie looked out the window. Leaf watched her, her heart sinking as the old lady did not react as she expected. She just stood there, fiddling with the left arm of the spectacles.
“Very interesting,” she said at last.
“Did you see it?” asked Leaf. “The House? Above and around the hospital?”
“Yes, I did, dear,” said Sylvie in a very matter-of-fact way. “Is it real, or some sort of 3-D projection from these glasses?”
“It’s real,” said Leaf grimly. “Very real. The glasses are not some sort of technology. A sorcerer made them.”
Sylvie took them off and looked at the wire frames and the cracked lenses. Then she put them on again and stared out the window once more.
“I haven’t got much time,” said Leaf. “That disease, the one they think is a bioagent, it’s actually caused by a…a creature from that House, a Nithling. You can only get the…virus…if that one Nithling touches you. I’ve got
it and when it kicks in, the Nithling will see what I see, know what I know, and will be able to control my mind.”
“Even from this distance?” asked Sylvie. She was still staring out the window.
“Um…I don’t know,” said Leaf. “I can’t take that risk. I have to get over to Arthur’s…my friend’s house. He’s got a phone that can call Denizens…the people in the House. I was thinking that if you called the police—no, no, that’s too risky. If you called an ambulance, then I could hijack it and get them to drive me.”
“You are an adventurer!” exclaimed Sylvie. She tore herself away from the window and handed the glasses back to her. “But I suppose that could work. Only, what will happen afterwards?”
“I was planning to worry about afterwards when there is an afterwards,” replied Leaf. “And I’m
not
an adventurer. At least not by choice. I’ve done that once and learned my lesson. No more adventures without knowing what I’m getting into.”
“They wouldn’t be adventures, then,” said Sylvie. “You know, I was never adventurous. Perhaps it is not too late. I have a medi-alert here. Shall I activate it now? It’s a subscription service, not public health, so we can be assured an ambulance will come quickly.”
“Activate it!” Leaf agreed. She started downstairs. “Can I borrow a knife from your kitchen? And some salt?”
“If you so wish.” Sylvie opened her bedside drawer and took out a small electronic device, flipped open the Lucite cover, and pressed the red button within. It started to beep and a synthesized voice said, “Stay calm. Help is on the way. Stay calm. Help is on the way.” Then the device started to play a Vivaldi piece for lute and bassoon.
Sylvie threw it back in the drawer and followed Leaf downstairs, finding her in the kitchen eating spoonfuls of salt, washed down with orange juice.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Leaf coughed—a cough that was nearly a vomit. Then she wiped her mouth with a tissue and said, “I’m not sure, really, but salt might put off the Nithling’s control. They don’t like salt…or silver.”
“I have a silver bangle,” said Sylvie. “I’ll fetch it.”
“Thanks,” said Leaf through the corner of her mouth. She felt extremely nauseous, more than she would have thought possible just from half a dozen spoonfuls of salt. Perhaps the mold didn’t like salt either. Just in case, she quickly gargled with some more dissolved in water, and then snorted salty water up her nose, as if she were irrigating her sinuses. Perhaps it would help.
By the time Sylvie returned with not just the silver bangle but a necklace of tiny silver acorns as well, they could hear a siren approaching and then the sound of the ambulance pulling up outside.
“I’ve got my allergy injector,” said Sylvie, showing Leaf an auto-injector she had hidden under her shawl, the brand name on the cartridge blacked out with pen. “I’ll tell them it’s got something nasty in it that they’ll get if they don’t do what I say. But not till we’re in the ambulance. First I’ll sit here and we’ll tell them I blacked out. You can be my granddaughter.”
“Thanks,” said Leaf, with surprise. She hadn’t expected Sylvie to get so involved. “Uh, I don’t want to actually hurt them…”
“I know, I know,” said Sylvie. She sat back in a kitchen chair and started making noises like a small, sick cat. They were so realistic that Leaf was worried for a second, till she saw Sylvie wink.
Leaf opened the door. There were two paramedics, both in full quarantine gear, only their eyes visible behind their face masks.
“It’s my grandma!” said Leaf. “In the kitchen!”
The paramedics hustled past her, the second one noticing her bandaged head as he went past.
“What happened?” asked the first paramedic.
“She blacked out,” said Leaf. “It’s her heart, I think.”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” mumbled Sylvie.
“We’d better take her in,” said the first paramedic as he ripped the plastic covering off a diagnostic unit and attached it to Sylvie’s wrist. The second paramedic nodded and went back out. “Yeah, pulse very elevated, blood pressure okay. Could be some kind of heart episode. You’ll be all right, ma’am. My name’s Ron and I’ll be taking care of you. Just relax and we’ll have you in the ambulance very soon.”
Sylvie’s pathetic mewing quieted as the paramedic patted the back of her hand. Her other hand lay hidden under her shawl, holding the auto-injector.
“Can I come too?” asked Leaf.
“You understand that with the quarantine, if we take you to a hospital you may end up having to stay there? And we’ll have to spray you first.”
“Sure,” said Leaf. “Long as we don’t go to East Area.”
“No way,” said Ron. “There’s some serious stuff going on there. We’re working out of Lark Valley Private now. Okay, stand back. We’re going to lift you now, ma’am, onto the stretcher.”
The second paramedic had returned, pushing a rolling stretcher. The two of them expertly picked Sylvie up and put her on it, lightly strapping her in. The diagnostic unit beeped as they did so.
“Pulse spike,” said Ron. “We’ll have you hooked up to a couple of our miracle machines in a few minutes, ma’am. You’ll be fine.”
Leaf had been worried that some neighbors might ask who she was when they got outside, but she had nothing to fear. Though there were faces at various windows, no one came outside. They were probably all wondering if Sylvie was a victim of the new bioweapon.
They would not be reassured by the sight of the second paramedic handing Leaf a pair of goggles and a face mask and then liberally spraying her all over with something that looked bright blue when it came out but was colorless when dry. It did have a faint odor, though, of wet newspaper. Fortunately it didn’t leave any residue Leaf could feel.
After the spraying, the paramedic went to the front and got behind the wheel. Leaf climbed in the back, where Ron was bringing on-line a device that swung out above the stretcher and had half a dozen hanging tubes, leads, and sensors.
Leaf shut the door behind her, and the ambulance took off, the siren coming on once more. As they rounded the corner, she bent over and undid the straps around Sylvie’s arms, just as the paramedic on the other side was unscrewing the lid of a tube of conductive gel.
“What are you—”
“Don’t move!” hissed Sylvie, rearing up and pressing the auto-injector hard against Ron’s thigh, where the needle would easily strike through his protective suit. “This is a two-hundred-fifty-milligram dose of Rapyrox. Tell your partner not to radio or hit an alarm either.”
The paramedic froze, then slowly turned his head to the front. Leaf didn’t know what Rapyrox was, but Ron certainly did and he was afraid of it.
“Jules, the old lady’s got an injection unit of Rapyrox against my leg. Don’t do anything…I mean anything.”
“What?”
“I’ve got two hundred fifty milligrams of Rapyrox here and I’m not afraid to use it!” screeched Sylvie, scaring Leaf almost as much as Ron. “I want you to drive me somewhere. And you keep quiet, young lady!”
Leaf nodded, suddenly unsure how much of this was an act.
“Anything you want, lady,” said Jules. Leaf could see his eyes in the rearview mirror, flicking nervously from that to the road ahead. “Where do you want to go?”
Sylvie gave an address two doors down from Arthur’s house. Leaf looked at her when the old lady said the wrong street number, then slowly nodded.
“I read a lot of detective stories,” said Sylvie, apparently without reference to anything.
“Great, great,” muttered the paramedic in the back. “Why not? I read a few myself. Uh, why do you want to go to—”
“Did I say you could talk?” yelled Sylvie.
The rest of the journey occurred without conversation. Jules in the front kept glancing back in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t try anything. Ron closed his eyes and took very regular, very controlled breaths. Sylvie watched him like a hawk, her eyes brighter than they should have been for someone so old.
Leaf sat and worried. She could still feel the pressure in her head, but it hadn’t gotten any worse. She still couldn’t think of anything else to do but call Dame Primus and hope that the Will would help in some way. Preferably by taking the pocket and getting to Arthur so he could destroy the Skinless Boy. Though even that might not help those already affected by the mold.
Even if there was something that Dame Primus or Dr. Scamandros could do about the mold, Leaf knew she was going to be in a whole lot of trouble—but hopefully not the kind that ended with her being one more drooling zombie in the slave army of the Skinless Boy.
“We’re almost there,” said Jules from the front. “Do you want me to pull over?”
“Yes,” said Sylvie. “Girl, look out the window. See if we’ve got any company. If we have…”
“I haven’t done a thing!” protested Jules. Ron took an even deeper, more measured breath, but didn’t open his eyes.
Leaf looked out the tinted windows in the back of the ambulance. She couldn’t see anyone or any other vehicles on the street. But she could see the house numbers. There was Arthur’s house a couple of doors down from where they were parked.
“There’s no one there.”
“Good,” said Sylvie. “Go and pick me some flowers, girl. I’ll wait here.”
“But I don’t—” Leaf got into the act.
“I said, go get me some flowers!” ordered Sylvie with a maniacal giggle.
“Whatever you say,” said Leaf.
She climbed out the back, missing the sight of Ron trying to blink an SOS at her.
“Stop that!” ordered Sylvie. “You just get flowers, girl. Nothing else! And shut the door!”
Leaf shut the door and quickly walked up to Arthur’s house. It was pretty big, but the front door was very visible across the lawn. Leaf ignored that and walked on till she
came to the driveway. Ten feet from the garage door, she knelt down and pressed the button on the remote wired in place under a rock, exactly as Arthur had told her.
The remote opened the side door of the garage. Leaf crossed the drive, looking up at the house’s windows as she did, but she didn’t see anyone looking out.
Once inside the garage, it was quick work to get into the house proper and up the stairs. There were three levels above the garage, Leaf knew, and Arthur’s bedroom was right at the top.
She felt a bit weird breaking into someone’s house, and very nervous as well. More nervous than in the ambulance for some reason, though hijacking and kidnapping the paramedics was a really serious crime. Every time she took a step and it sounded louder on the stairs than she’d thought it would, she freaked out, anticipating a sudden meeting with Arthur’s dad or one of his sisters or brothers.
They’re probably all at the hospital,
Leaf tried to reassure herself.
Or staying with friends or something. The house is really quiet. Only one more floor to go…
She arrived on the third-level landing. There were three bedroom doors and a bathroom door. Arthur’s was the first on the left…
Or was it the first on the right?
Leaf suddenly doubted her memory. Surely Arthur had said first on the left?
Leaf quietly opened the door on the left and peered in. Then she shut it again as quietly as she could and backed away.
There was a girl in there, with her back to the door and earphones in, listening to music—or maybe the news—while she did something complicated with a light pen and big flat-panel display.
Leaf swallowed and opened the right-hand door, trying to be just as quiet. It was Arthur’s room, exactly as described, though tidier. And on the bookshelf was a red velvet box.
Leaf hurried over to the box, picked it up, and put it on the bed, taking off the lid at the same time. There was a phone inside. An old-fashioned phone, like a candlestick with the mouthpiece on that, and an earpiece on a cord. Leaf took the phone out and held it in front of her mouth, sat on the bed, and pressed the earpiece against her ear.