Page 137 of Alchemised

She could barely see. No one had any idea where the radio was, or if they still had one. They were drowning in injuries.

Half of the medics had already lost their resonance, and there was no time to do anything but switch to manual protocols. Without running water, it was impossible to keep anything clean.

Helena could feel her resonance starting to fail when General Althorne came through the door, pulling a cart with several bodies on it.

“I think they’re alive,” he said, breathing heavily. He was coated in dust, no mask and only light armour on. “There’s at least forty trapped under a wall. We can hear them, but we don’t know how to reach them without potentially collapsing it on them.”

Helena let the others check the bodies and try to find space for them. The hospital was already overflowing. Althorne’s fingers were bloody from digging through rubble. He sat down heavily, coughing violently, struggling to breathe.

“You should be wearing a mask,” she said.

“Can’t breathe in those damn things,” he said, gulping water. “No point. Already lost my resonance.” Then he blinked and peered at her. “Marino?”

“Yes?” She didn’t know Althorne had any idea who she was.

He leaned towards her, his voice dropping. “What are you doing here? Get back to Headquarters before Ferron finds out about this.”

She was speechless, but of course Althorne had to have known. She looked at him helplessly. “Matias signed the order and dispatched me here, and I can’t find the radio to get permission to return.”

“Go back to Headquarters. First lorry. Tell them I ordered it. The last thing we need is Ferron going off the rails.” Althorne dragged himself up on his feet.

“Wait.” She caught him by the arm, and to her surprise, he collapsed back onto the chair. She reached out with her failing resonance, but all she felt was a blur.

“Althorne, you need a mask. It’ll give you lung damage to keep breathing this dust. You’re too valuable to risk,” she said, searching him, trying to find the injury she could tell he was hiding. It was a testament to how weak he was that he sat there, letting her.

He said nothing.

“When are reinforcements coming?” she asked. “There’s not enough people here to handle this much. We’re running out of everything.”

“They’re not,” Althorne said quietly, as if to keep anyone else from overhearing. “We’re all there is.”

Helena’s heart stalled.

He watched as several soldiers dragged in bodies on makeshift litters.

“We can’t risk our remaining combatants down here, losing their resonance. The fallout has to be contained,” Althorne said, his voice tight with resignation.

He stood and swayed.

“Where are you hurt?” Helena asked, blocking his path.

He shrugged her off, straightening, his breath laboured. “It’s shallow. Falling rubble. Everyone’s bleeding. I’ll be fine.”

“Althorne.” She stepped into his path. “You’re hurt. Badly. If I had my resonance, I’d sedate you by force, because you’re not in any condition to lead recovery efforts. You are too valuable. You know that. The Resistance can’t lose you.”

He patted her on the shoulder as if she were a child. “My men are in that rubble. Buried and suffocating because I sent them there.”

A warning shriek rose from the rubble. Long and piercing, fol lowed by another and another. Whistles. Helena didn’t know what it meant.

Althorne’s face hardened. He pushed her aside with a sweep of his arm. “Block the doors. They’ve sent in necrothralls; they’ll be coming for the bodies.”

He strode past her, and Helena stood, torn between trying to stop him and the urgency of securing the hospital. Before she could decide, he vanished into the dust. She turned to face the hospital.

“We need to move all the bodies as far back into the building as possible,” she said, her voice shaking. “If there’s not enough room—stack the dead. We have to secure the doors.”

The thought of being locked in a field hospital again made her vision blur. She forced herself to stay focused, curling her fingers until she felt the scars on her palm.

“Can’t we let Headquarters know we’re under attack?” a medic asked, voice muffled through protective gear. “They have to send people.”

Helena shook her head. “They’re not coming. The nullium has to be contained.”

Everyone around her froze, staring. She probably wasn’t supposed to tell them that.

Helena had never been a leader, and she had no idea how to suddenly begin being one. She was not the kind of person that anyone believed in, and standing, covered in dust, soaked in blood and gore—it was not the time for it. She focused on practicalities.

“Our job is to keep everyone here safe. We’ll move them back and put up obstacles. The Undying won’t come here themselves; nullium affects them, too.”

“But there’s no room to move anyone unless we can break through the walls, and no one here has the resonance for that. We’re already out of space,” a medic said. “And how are we going to block the doors?”

Helena looked around. He was right. If they protected the survivors, they’d have to leave the dead to be taken. Which would cost them dearly later on.

There was no room, and no means.

She was in command. She had a stupid slip of paper declaring it.

“We’ll evacuate,” she said, not caring whether the nullium was supposed to be contained down-island. It would be worse if the Undying got hold of all their casualties. “We won’t go into Headquarters, but if we get close enough, they might not pursue. If the Council minds, they can blame me.”

A flurry of activity followed as bodies were prepared for transfer. Helena went and commandeered all the lorries, using the crumpled slip of paper that named her as head of the nullium ward as proof of legitimacy.

They crammed as many bodies as possible into the lorries. Dead at the bottom, injured on top. A medic or nurse departed with each lorry.

The wait for their return felt interminable as they readied group after group.

They could hear the fighting. Fire glowed through the smog. Whistles kept sounding on all sides, like a signal of wolves closing in, except it wasn’t night; the world was red.

Helena’s muscles were burning from lifting, over and over. The bodies never seemed to stop. She and one other medic were left, even though there were still wounded and more bodies that they had to get out.

“I’ll stay,” he said. “Take this one.”

Helena shook her head. “I’m lead. I go last.”

He stepped back, thumping the lorry.

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

She could only see his eyes, and they were crusted all around until they were black with dust.

He reminded her of Luc.

“No,” she said quickly, looking away. “Go, that’s an order.”

She watched him swing up into the cab next to the driver as the lorry pulled away, driving carefully through the debris. She could just barely make out the Alchemy Tower in the distance. The flame at the top like a small sun.

The lorry stopped.

Helena squinted through the dust, trying to make out why. There was another lorry approaching, swerving back and forth so that the departing lorry couldn’t pass it.

Suddenly the approaching lorry sped up, and Helena could see through the dust enough to make out the bloated grey face of the driver.

The Resistance lorry’s wheels screamed as it went into a rapid reverse, but rubble scattered across the road prevented evasion. The approaching lorry crashed into it head-on.

There was a bright flash.