The Ruins of Mars: Waking Titan (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy) (18 page)

“Shit,” James breathed.

“What is it?” demanded Barnes.

Standing up from his seat, James walked to the window, keeping his back to the three faces hanging above his desk.
             

“Braun didn’t make it.”

At this, a long heavy silence permeated the air.

Gazing out at the midday Florida sun, James barely heard as Barnes began to read him the riot act. Though he knew he was probably being fired at that very moment, he had become distracted and was no longer listening.

The sky, normally the lightest shade of robin’s-egg blue, had odd shadows rippling here and there. As if the Earth were encased in a soap bubble, strange shimmers of pink and green began to take form, dancing like curtains of light.

“Is that the aurora?” James said with confusion.

“What?” crackled Barnes, his voice distorted and muddled with heavy static.

“Copernicus?” called James, pressing his face to the window. “What’s going on? Why can we see the aurora this far sou—”

The words froze in his mouth. A pain, sharp and sudden, ruptured in the back of his head, buckling his knees. Slumping to the floor like sack of oranges, James started convulsing as thin shocks of blue lightning emanated from his fingertips and head. All at once, his vision cut out and he was cast into oblivion.              

Aftermath—
Sol 93

Harrison opened his eyes. He was lying facedown on the floor of his lab, a few paces from the cot he kept in the corner. Pushing up onto his knees, he was met with a sharp severe pain in the back of his head. With a shaking hand, he reached up and touched the spot, half-expecting to feel the sticky sheen of blood matting in his hair. But there was no blood, no wound, just a slow grinding ache that traveled down his spine and out to the tips of every nerve he had.

Standing, he staggered a bit as if his legs were worn out from a day of running then dropped onto his cot. Nearly crippled by the movement, he placed his head in his hands.

“Braun?” he said, the sound of his own voice like a gunshot in a broom closet.

There was no reply.

Using that special reserve of inner strength normally saved for migraines and hangovers, Harrison brought his eyes up to survey the room. It was dark. Too dark, in actuality. Only the red emergency lights were on, mixing with the faint green from the glow-in-the-dark strips that outlined the door.

“Braun,” he said again, this time softer. “What’s happened?”

Met only with the silence of the room, Harrison dug deep down inside himself to find strength then struggled to his feet. With the wall as his support, he shuffled torturously to the door—the impact of each feeble step feeling like it might shatter his bones. His head still hurt and the pain seemed to be spreading out now, like an injection into the bloodstream.

At the door, he tried to swipe a finger across the wall-mounted
Tablet, but nothing happened. Groaning, he grabbed the shallow handhold and tugged the door open enough to squeeze through into the hallway.

With his breath coming in shallow trembling gasps, he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, following a narrow line of glow-in-the-dark indicators on the floor. As he neared the stairs, he stopped to catch his breath. The pain in his body was incredible, like nothing he had ever felt before. Coughing, he took his first tentative step onto the steep staircase then half-stumbled, half-fell down the next four. Heart pounding raggedly, he focused on restoring his balance and took the rest of the steps one at a time. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he went to head for the galley but tripped over someone sprawled facedown on the floor. Carefully lowering himself to his knees, Harrison grasped the shoulders of the figure and rolled it over.

It was Udo, blood smeared around his nose and mouth where his face had struck the floor. Other deep red marks and bruises had begun to form around his neck and head, suggesting that he had probably fallen—if not all the way, then at least part of the way—down the stairs.

“Udo,” Harrison whispered, not daring to speak louder for fear of the pain.

“Hmmm?” Udo mumbled, his eyelids fluttering.

“Wake up. You fell down the stairs. We need to check you for broken bones.”

Opening his eyes, the German looked up at Harrison then grimaced as if stabbed.

“Oh
, mein kopf
,” he slurred and even though Harrison did not speak German, he understood.

“I know. My head hurts too. Can you stand? We need to get you to the infirmary.”

Helping the battered engineer to his feet, Harrison nearly crumbled under the weight as Udo leaned heavily on him for support. Together, the two slowly shambled to the shadowy infirmary where Harrison deposited Udo on one of the little beds.

“Where is everyone else?” he asked, rifling through Kubba’s cabinets until he found the ultrasound scanner.

“I don’t know. The galley I think,” Udo moaned, now conscious enough to realize that something was wrong with his arm. “I think I broke my wrist.”

Scanner in hand, Harrison crouched by the injured German and saw, even without the help of sophisticated medical technology, that a dark spot had blossomed on the sleeve of Udo’s jumpsuit.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll need to roll your sleeve up to get a better look.”

Nodding once, Udo turned his face away and screwed his eyes shut.

With careful, deliberate movements, Harrison gently pulled the left cuff of Udo’s jumpsuit up to his forearm. Little whimpers of pain escaped the German’s lips as the fabric caught on something splintered protruding from the skin.

“Ah, shit,” Harrison said, the words escaping before he could stop himself.

Over five centimeters of blood-slick bone jutted out of a puckered wound, little rivulets of red oozing steadily out like tears. Purple and raw, the skin around the wound was already starting to swell.

“Is it bad?” Udo asked through gritted teeth.

“Yeah.”

Getting to his feet, Harrison tossed the ultrasound scanner onto a nearby chair. He didn’t need it after all.

“Let me find you something for the pain,” he said, picking up bottles and vials at random.

One cabinet, its door made of clear class, was locked. By pressing his face against the cool surface, Harrison could read some of the names on the bottles inside.

Leave it to Kubba to keep the good stuff locked up, he thought wryly.

Finding a box of Ace bandages nearby, he wrapped a few around his right fist, then drove it through the glass of the locked cabinet. The sound was unbearably loud and profoundly painful.

Out of the wreckage, he selected one of the vials whose name he actually recognized. His trauma care training kicking in, Harrison located a syringe and administered a healthy dose of the painkiller to Udo.

As the German’s ashen face relaxed under the drug-induced warmth of delirium, Harrison placed a tourniquet above the compound fracture then went for the door.

“Stay here, buddy,” he said. “I’m going to try and find the others. I can’t fix your arm myself. I have to get Liz.”

If Udo could hear him, he made no indication. His eyes were glassy and a stupid smile touched the corners of his mouth.

The pain in Harrison’s own body had dulled a bit. Whether this was a result of seeing someone in much worse shape than himself, or just his nervous system adjusting its own natural painkillers, he could not tell.

In the hallway again, he walked on steadier legs towards the galley. Entering through the open door, he saw the rest of the team either slumped in their chairs or facedown on the tabletop. Bowls of food and cups of water were tipped over, suggesting that they had been in the middle of a meal when whatever had happened,
happened
. Also, there was a faint hint of smoke in the air. It was an electric ionized scent that reminded Harrison of how lightning storms back on Earth sometimes smelled.

“Guys,” he said loudly, forgetting that his voice was like a cannon.

Jolted by the sound, some started to stir awake. Ralph Marshall, whose cheek had been resting on the corner of the table, was the first to open his eyes.

“My head,” was all he could say.

“I know,” Harrison replied, helping his friend to sit up straighter in his chair.

Moving around the table
past a faintly moaning Viviana, Harrison approached Kubba. She was leaning back in her seat, arms dangling limply at her sides. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Wake up, Lizzy,” he whispered. “Udo is hurt pretty badly. He needs your help.”

“I can’t,” she mumbled, refusing to open her eyes.

“You have to.”

“Are we dead?” she asked, her voice as innocent and frightened as a child. “Is that why he keeps talking to me? Are we dead?”

“No,” Harrison said, looking around at the others as they struggled to regain consciousness.

“Oh, Harrison,” Kubba groaned, tears springing into the corners of her closed eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. So, so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do!” she cried, her hand shooting out to grasp his arm like a striking snake. “Yes, I do!”

“Why are the lights out?” said Marshall, his face a mask of pain.

“I don’t know,” Harrison replied, reluctantly turning away from the doctor. “I woke up on the floor of my lab.”

“I wanted to kill her baby!” Kubba sobbed. “Crisp is right. I am a bad person.”

Great, thought Harrison. She’s delirious, just what we need in a doctor right now.

“Where is Udo?” asked William, just now waking up and not seeing his friend at the table.

“He’s in the infirmary with a busted arm,” Harrison responded. Then turning back to Kubba, he said, “That’s why I need you to pull yourself together, Lizzy. You have to
help
him.”

“No,” she whimpered. “I’m not fit to be a doctor. I’m a failure. I tried to kill her b
aby. Don’t you see? And Perkins. Poor Perkins. I didn’t help him either, Harrison. It’s my fault what happened. It’s my fault for all of them.”

“What is she talking about?” Marshall frowned, his hand feeling the back of his head in the same spot Harrison had touched on himself earlier.

“I have no idea,” Harrison said with exasperation.

“Crisp is right,” Kubba repeated, her voice raising again. “I didn’t help. I let them all just drift away.”

“Elizabeth!” shouted Harrison, clenching his jaw against the assault of his own voice. “Snap out of it!”

As if these were the first words to actually make it to her ears, Kubba threw her eyes open.

“You don’t understand,” she implored, pupils all but lost in the whites of her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like when he talks.”

Taking her roughly by the both arms, Harrison shook her until her head lolled back and forth.

“Snap out of it, Liz,” he growled. “Pull your damn self together. You’re a fucking doctor, for Christ’s sake.”

Slowly focusing on something far away, Kubba tensed.

“Where am I?” she said, her voice returning to its normal tone. “What’s going on?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harrison let go of her arms.

“We’ve all had some kind of episode or something. Udo needs your help now, though. He’s in the infirmary with a broken wrist.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Kubba stammered, a look of total fear spreading across her face. “What was I saying? I don’t even know. I’m so embarrassed.”

With an outstretched hand, Harrison helped stabilize the confused doctor as she climbed to her feet.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We’re all in a lot of pain. Don’t worry about it.”

Swaying for a moment, Kubba’s head swiveled about as she surveyed the scene. When she turned her bleary gaze on Harrison, she quickly looked away.

“How did Udo break his arm?” she asked distractedly.

“He fell down the stairs.”

“Oh, yeah,” sighed Marshall, his eyes shut again. “I remember we were sitting down to lunch but you weren’t here. He went to get you.”

“Braun?” came the feeble voice of YiJay, her nose bleeding a little from when it must have slammed into the tabletop. “Where’s Braun?”

Catching Harrison’s eye, Marshall shook his head, grimacing at the action.

“He didn’t make it back from decoding the signal, YiJay. Remember?” he said in as comforting a voice as he could manage.

At this, Harrison felt the bottom of his stomach fall out.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Marshall nodded, his lips thin with the pain he was clearly in. “You were passed out, friend.
Cold
. I couldn’t wake you. But yeah, he didn’t make it. YiJay was right. The signal was just too much for him, I guess. He’s gone like Remus and Romulus.”

             
“Remus and Romulus,” Harrison breathed, his mind prickling. “Remus and Romulus. Why does that mean something to me?”