‘Fuck, fuck, fuck…’
She thrashed. She punched ferro-concrete boulders hemming her on all sides. She struggled to lift her head. The helmet butted cement. Harsh abrasion; metal on stone.
‘Hey.’ Deafened by her own cry for help. Hot, stale breath filled the helmet. ‘Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.’ A tone of shrill hysteria creeping into her voice. ‘Someone. Hey. Help.’
Feedback from her earpiece. Cloke’s voice:
‘…ome on… me… your head… alive… hear my voi…’
She reached down to the Motorola clipped to her weight belt. She checked the jack and upped volume.
‘Hey. I’m here. I’m right here.’
Nariko fumbled the shoulder harness of her back-tanks and flipped the release latches. She struggled to lift her head and look down at her feet.
The bus had been crushed by subsiding rubble. Nariko was halfway out of the rear door when the vehicle compacted flat. She was pinned in an envelope of yellow metal. Her lower body, her groin and legs, compressed into a space eight inches high. Wisps of blood in the water.
‘Tombes? You out there? Cloke? Can you hear me?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, we hear you. Are you all right?’
‘I’m stuck. I’m trapped.’
‘Have you got any room for manoeuvre? Any room to crawl?’
‘No.’
‘Are you injured?’
‘Think I broke my back.’
‘Lie still, all right?’
‘I hurt my head. I don’t feel so good.’
‘Keep talking. Recite a poem or something.’
‘I can’t think. My head is fuzzy.’
‘Do the alphabet. Count backwards from a hundred. Just stay awake, okay? Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes. We’re coming for you.’
Cloke and Tombes hauled rubble aside. They hefted chunks of cement. They levered a NO THRU TRAFFIC sign loose and threw it clear. They rolled a Con Edison manhole lid. They extracted a baby stroller, did it quick, did it with the periphery of their vision so they wouldn’t have to see if it were occupied.
They burrowed beneath a massive slab bristling with rebar.
A cacophony of cracks and grinds as debris shifted around them. A steady cascade of stone dust and trickling grit.
Cloke held back. Tombes kept digging.
‘Jesus,’ said Cloke, surveying the mountainous rubble pile. ‘We need major lifting gear. Some kind of Hurst tool. A bunch of them. We’ll never shift this stuff.’
Tombes pointed to the radio clipped to his belt and made a zip-mouth gesture. Open channel. Nariko listening to every word.
Tombes dug towards Nariko’s helmet lights. He wormed between slabs. His helmet and air tank scraped rock.
‘Don’t rip your suit,’ said Cloke.
Tombes ignored him.
‘How you doing, Boss?’
‘Not so great,’ said Nariko.
‘You need an air line?’
‘I can’t feel my legs. I think they might be gone.’
‘They’re probably broken. You’ll feel them big time once the shock wears off.’
‘I honestly think they’re gone.’
‘We’re almost there, all right? I’m a couple of feet away. So just relax. I’m going to unfuck this, okay? The torch will rip that bus apart like paper. You’ll be out of there in a couple of minutes.’
A thick girder blocked his path.
‘I can see you, Captain. I can almost reach you. But there’s a bar, some kind of steel beam. Got to cut the damned thing. This could take a few minutes. Can you hold on?’
‘There’s blood in the water.’
‘How much?’
‘I don’t know. Some. Don’t think it’s arterial.’
‘Are you in pain? Do you need a shot? If we passed you a hypodermic, taped it to a pole or something, could you use it? Self-administer?’
She didn’t reply.
He squirmed deeper into the narrow space. He turned to Cloke.
‘Give me the plasma gear.’
Cloke passed the webbed cylinder.
Tombes struggled to manoeuvre in the confined space.
Stone-crack. Grinding concrete. Tumbling debris. Swirling rock dust fogged the water.
Tombes froze, waited for the tremor to pass.
‘Work fast,’ said Cloke.
‘I am.’
‘Work faster.’
Boulders shifted and settled. The hull of the bus groaned and compressed an inch further. White pain shot through Nariko’s spine. She screamed. She gripped the slab above her head and strained to lift the impossible tonnage from her body.
‘Hold on, Boss. Just rest easy. Almost there.’
Nariko lay still. She tried to breathe steady. Muffled roar of the cutting flame. The water around her began to cook. The tight sarcophagus space was lit fluttering white.
‘I think I’m pretty messed up.’
‘Just chill, boss. Cutting through this thing like butter.’
‘Whole lower body seems pretty trashed. I think this bus is the only thing holding my guts together. I’ll bleed out the moment you lift me.’
‘One thing at a time. We’ve got to reach you first.’
Another gunshot crack. A fresh puff of rock dust fogged the water.
‘Get out of here, guys.’
‘Relax, Captain. You’re hurt. You’re not thinking straight. Let me make the calls.’
‘Seriously. Command decision. This debris pile could subside any minute. I’m ordering you to pull back.’
‘Rescue Four. We don’t pussy out, am I right? Shut the hell up and let me do my thing.’
‘Listen. Just listen. People are counting on us, understand? We are the last frigging hope. Forget about me. I don’t matter. Neither do you. Find Ekks, whatever the cost.’
‘Just rest easy, Cap. You know how this works. I’m the responder, okay? You’re the pin-job.’
‘I got water in my helmet.’
‘Can you reach your tanks? Can you increase suit pressure, force the water out?’
‘Go. Just go.’
Nariko clumsily reached behind her back. A sudden jolt of pain stole her breath. She let it subside, then gripped the regulator valve of her gas tanks.
She twisted the demand valve. Her wrist screen flashed brief amber, then glowed red. The depth/time readout was replaced by:
An alarm. Computer voice, calm but insistent:
‘…danger… danger… nitrogen toxicity warning… danger… danger… adjust levels now…’
‘Captain. What the fuck are you doing?’
‘Find the cure. Get it to Ridgeway.’
She twisted the valve full open.
‘…danger… danger… nitrogen level critical… danger… danger… operate manual shut-off now…’
Pounding blood-roar in her ears like crashing waves.