"A new world, a Blue world," Madeleine murmured, and felt sick.
"I agree with Fish that we should not rush to judgment," Nash said, paused, then repeated: "Fish?"
Fisher, who had been keeping a watchful, worried eye on the television, looked up, then let out his breath. "Sorry. I’ve been trying to find a way to ask Madeleine to take off her clothes. Everything I can think to say sounds impossibly wrong." One corner of his mouth twitched at their various reactions, then he added to Madeleine: "You’re very blue, aren’t you?"
"Yeah." Madeleine couldn’t stop the rush of heat to her face, and wondered what the patch around her eye looked like when she blushed. "Just a minute – I actually anticipated that particular request."
"Oh, man, everything I can think to say right now sounds impossibly wrong as well," Pan said as she stood up, then added on a more serious note: "You want us to kick off, Maddie? Give you less of a crowd."
"It’s okay." She collected the bags of looted clothing and, most importantly, the backpack of looted other things, and headed into Tyler’s walk-in wardrobe.
Noi followed her to check that Madeleine was okay, turned to go, then returned to pick up the backpack and briefly clutch it to her chest, bouncing in a circle of silent hilarity.
That at least left Madeleine smiling as she dug through the bags to unearth a pair of very short shorts and a matching crochet halter top which was a mere inch or two from being a bikini. Something she would normally never consider wearing, since it made her look like a noodle, only emphasising her lack of hips and how little she had to fill the top. But looking in the mirror she saw neither abbreviated black cloth nor string-bean figure, only stars.
"Barely human," she murmured, and saw exactly the same thought in the faces of those who waited for her in Tyler’s lounge room.
"Damn," Gavin said. "But – damn."
Madeleine, resisting the urge to clutch the coat she’d carried with her to her chest, turned so they could see her back, which had a particularly brilliant display: her own tiny nebulae. She looked down, the handful of sticking plasters on her arms and legs catching her eye.
"How are you still alive?" Fisher asked, sounding breathless. He came close, putting on his glasses, and she looked away as he bent to study her back. "Can I document this?"
"If you keep my face out of it," Madeleine said, and stood unhappily as he circled her, taking pictures with his phone. She hadn’t really processed the impulse which had produced so many sketches of Fisher Charteris, but couldn’t entirely deny Noi’s conclusion, and so watched his face gravely as he angled his phone to take pictures of her stomach. He was someone she’d only just met, and she liked the bones of his face, and the cinnamon warmth of his light brown eyes, and she wanted to do more than just sketch him.
Finished, he looked up, brows drawn in thought, and Madeleine wondered if he made many enemies because the slightest frown made it seem like he was seriously annoyed. He caught her gaze, and paused to study her frankly in return, and that was a little too much for Madeleine in front of an audience, so she retrieved the plum-coloured coat and sat back down, trying not to curl protectively into a ball.
"I was at St James," she announced, wanting to limit questions about that time. "The dust was knee-deep. I walked out along the track. Higher exposure, more stain."
"I don’t know of any other very high exposure cases who have survived," Fisher said, tucking phone and glasses away. "Did you eat anything unusual, take any medicines we could investigate?"
"I don’t think so. I painted, and ate soup. I took some aspirin early on because I’d hit my head. But–" She grimaced. "If there’s anything really different about me, it was that I’d touched the Spire."
Fisher paused in the act of sitting down, then completed the movement, the lowering frown reappearing.
"Something you might have mentioned earlier!" Pan said. "What was it like then?"
"Like us," Madeleine replied, uncomfortably. "Velvet. The same sensation as blue-stained skin. It was warm, too, and felt alive. Except solid as marble."
"That’s…so not comforting to hear." Pan exchanged a glance with Nash, then tangled fingers in his hair, feeling the shape of his skull. "Not pointy yet."
"I’d only just touched it when the force field came up," Madeleine went on. "I was knocked back, paralysed like I was this morning. Then awful pins and needles. Today I was a lot hungrier afterwards, but otherwise it was the same."
"Did that happen during your surge?" Fisher asked, very intent.
"No."
"Go look at the bathroom," Noi said, and pointed the way. When they returned she added: "I was surprised you aren’t more cut up, seeing all that."
Madeleine explained briefly how the shards of glass and tile had bounced off her during the surge, the cuts simply the result of picking herself off the floor afterwards.
"Personal force field," Pan said, excited. "Can we do that? Okay, yeah, it makes us even more like the Spire, but so cool. But why the paralysis?"
"Some controlled, less spectacular experiments might answer that," Fisher said, not taking his eyes off Madeleine. "Something I wanted to organise anyway, somewhere away from anything we can damage, but even more so hearing this. It’s more than worth investigating whether your survival is intrinsic to you, or a result of the shock soon after exposure. Have you heard from your cousin?"
"No. But he had just flown in when the Spire arrived, and was safe from the dust for a long while. The last time I heard from him he didn’t have the stain."
"Leave a note," suggested Pan. "Forward the apartment phone to your mobile." He grimaced. "The senior dorms are set a little apart, and it makes a real difference to know there’s not a body in the next room. I’d be all manly now and say you girls should let us protect you, except you just gutted a car, and I think Noi would throw those boots at me. But we’re good company, and wash most days."
"How’re your Greens?" Noi asked, a note of regret in her voice.
"Up and about, all but a few of them. Not quite ready for a marathon, but you wouldn’t be walking into playing nurse or anything."
"I mean how’s their attitude? To you and your plans. To these stories of Blues killing Greens."
All four of them hesitated, which was answer enough.
Noi sighed. "Look, I’m all for teaming up, community, good company, whatever. But even if nothing else happens we’re facing a world divided into three parts. The uninfected. People doing Kermit imitations. And people who can gut cars. Some of whom seem to think they’ve been promoted to the top of the heap. Give Maddie’s cousin another couple of days and then we’ll come over, but we need to think contingency plan."
"Fair point," Fisher conceded. "Any suggestions?"
"If nothing else, we’ll try to find the keys to some of the spectacular array of boats lined up outside. Some of those things are practically floating mansions. Driving out of the city to any of the surrounding towns would mean competing with the thousands who’ve already done that – and potentially being isolated and locked up for being Blue. Not that I have the least idea of how to drive – or is it pilot? – a boat, or any suggestions on where to go. But it’s a first step."
"Nash knows boats," Pan said.
"Sailing," Nash corrected, but they all stood and went out on the balcony to survey the gently bobbing array.