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."