Page 37 of Shades of Earth (Across the Universe 3)

I stumble down the stairs, shouting for Kit. She can’t be that far behind. People in the other buildings peer through the windows and doors carved out of the stone walls. When they see me holding Amy’s unconscious form, they gasp or scream, curse or blanch, but none of them are Kit, none of them know medicine, none of them can save her.

“KIT!” I bellow.

Someone tall and dark turns the corner—Emma, on patrol duty with Juliana Robertson. “Help!” I shout at them. Even Juliana, who wanted nothing but to fight me earlier, is worried, her face draining of color, a stark contrast to her dark, bushy hair.

From behind them, Kit comes running. She stops short when she sees Amy. “What happened?” she gasps.

“Help her!” I shout again.

“This way,” Emma says as she and Juliana take off at a run toward the buildings at the edge of the ruin, where the Earthborns are. I race after them, slipping on the wet stone pavers. I twist to protect Amy’s lifeless body, gouging a long scrape into my thigh that I barely feel. Kit helps me up, then runs beside me, already checking Amy’s pulse as we jog toward the outer buildings.

Emma and Juliana lead us straight to the first stone building in the row, the one that’s slightly bigger than the rest, and moments later, Colonel Martin emerges. “What the hell happened?” he bellows, striding toward us. I don’t stop. I need doctors, medicine, something. Colonel Martin takes one look at Amy’s pale, unresponsive face and curses long and loud, running beside me, shouting for assistance.

“Stand back!” he bellows once I duck into the building. Amy’s mother screams. I kneel, carefully laying Amy down on the cold stone floor.

“What happened?” Dr. Martin cries as she stares at her daughter’s motionless body. Kit kneels beside Amy, lifting her eyelids. Two other people—a female with narrow eyes and a short man—drop down beside Amy and take over. Earthborn doctors.

“Where’s Gupta?” Colonel Martin shouts. “Where is he? He’s the lead medic!”

“I don’t know,” the female Earthborn doctor says.

“What happened?” Dr. Martin wails again.

“I don’t know,” I say, my words coming out as a plea. “We were just up there, at the buildings, and there was a tree, and—”

“Could be anything,” the Earthborn doctor says. His accent is strange, stranger than Amy’s, but that knowledge just makes my chest ache. “There was rain—perhaps there’s a toxin in the precipitation. Or a bug bite. ”

“Bugs! There were lots of bugs, little annoying flying things,” I jump in.

The doctor nods. “Perhaps a venom that reacted strangely to her system. Anything out here, no matter how seemingly harmless, is alien to us. We don’t know how we’ll react to any stimuli on this planet. ”

“What’s this?” Kit asks, lifting Amy’s limp hand. The sticky remains of the purple flower petals still cling to her palm.

“A flower. She sniffed a flower and then—”

“Passed out?” Kit lifts Amy’s eyelids, but much more gently than I did earlier, and shines a light in them.

I nod.

“Well, wake her up!” Colonel Martin shouts.

The Sol-Earth doctor presses a stethoscope into Amy’s chest.

“You!” Colonel Martin rounds on me. His wife gives a tiny sound of fear. “You put her in this danger!” Colonel Martin’s accusations slice into me, ripping my flesh to shreds.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” the Earthborn female doctor mutters.

“Where the hell is Dr. Gupta?” Colonel Martin shouts. His gaze zeros in on Juliana Robertson. “You! Go find that lazy medic and bring him here!”

I reach for Amy—I know she can’t hear or see me, I just want to touch her—and Colonel Martin slams both hands into my chest, throwing me to the far wall of the building.

“Get. The hell. Out. ” He grinds the words out through clenched teeth.

I stare up at him, shocked at his reaction.

“You did this. If she dies, her blood is on your hands. You can’t keep her safe. You can’t keep anyone safe. GET OUT. ” He pushes me again, and I stumble against the wall. Kit looks up—the only other shipborn in the room—but she can’t afford to divert her attention from Amy.

I drink in the image of Amy—pale, empty, lifeless on the ground. Her mother, weeping. Colonel Martin’s rage.