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In my dream, a dozen identical carts surrounded me as I stumbled from one to the next.
"Give--No, just move. Move!"
Another voice answered, male, mumbling an apology. My eyelids flickered. Fluorescent light stabbed my eyes. I clenched them shut, grimaced, and tried again, squinting this time. Carmichael was indeed in the infirmary, but for once I wasn't the object of her frustration. Two guards scrambled around the room, grabbing this and that as she snatched an instrument tray from th
e counter. My two in-room guards watched, stupefied, as if they'd been half-asleep.
"Can I do anything?" one said.
"Yes," Carmichael said. "Move!"
She thrust him out of the way with the crash cart and pushed it out the door. I tumbled from bed and followed, my drowsiness making me either brave or stupid. Either way, it was the right move. Carmichael didn't notice me tagging along. When she was this preoccupied, I'd have to stab her with a scalpel to get her attention. The guards didn't say anything either, maybe assuming that I was now Carmichael's assistant in all matters and, if she didn't want me, she'd have stopped me herself.
By the time the guards and I arrived at the elevator, the doors were closing behind Carmichael. We waited and got on when it returned. I hoped we'd head up to the surface. No such luck. We went down. To the cells.
"What's happened?" I asked.
Three guards ignored me. The fourth paid me the courtesy of a shrug and a muttered "Dunno." When the elevator opened on the lower level, the guards remembered their job and flanked me as we headed down the hall. Once through the secured door, I heard Savannah's voice.
"Do something! Hurry!"
The door to Ruth and Savannah's cell was open, letting voices stream into the hall.
"Calm yourself, Savannah," Matasumi said. "I need the guards to explain what happened."
I winced. Another guard accident? So soon? Now Ruth and Savannah would definitely be separated. I tried to hurry, but the guards blocked my path and kept me at their pace.
"I didn't do anything!" Savannah shouted.
"Of course you didn't," Carmichael snapped. "Now get out of the way. All of you."
"There's no need for all this equipment," Matasumi said. "There weren't any vital signs when I arrived. It's too late."
"I'll say when it's too late," Carmichael said.
No vital signs? That sounded bad. When I wheeled into the room, Savannah launched herself at me. Reflexively, my hands flew up to ward off an attack, but she wrapped her arms around my waist.
"I didn't do anything!" she said.
"I know," I murmured. "I know."
I touched her head awkwardly and stroked it, hoping I wasn't petting her like a dog. Consoling distraught children wasn't one of my strengths. Actually, I could say with some certainty that it was something I had never been called on to do before in my life. I scanned the room for Ruth. The cell was filled to capacity. Carmichael and three guards huddled over the bed as the doctor worked on a prone figure. The four guards that had accompanied me all crowded in for a better look, shoving Savannah and me into the corner. I craned my neck to see over their heads.
"Where's Ruth?" I asked.
Savannah stiffened, then pulled back. My gut tightened. I looked at the bed. Carmichael and the three guards still blocked my view, but I could see a hand dangling over the side of the bed. A small, plump, liver-spotted hand.
"Oh no," I whispered.
Savannah jerked away. "I--I didn't do it."
"Of course not," I said, pulling her back to me and praying she hadn't seen my initial reaction.
Matasumi turned on the four guards who'd come down with me. "I want to know what happened."
"We just got here," one said. He motioned to the guards surrounding the bed. "They were on the scene first."
Matasumi hesitated, then stepped toward the bed and tapped one guard's arm. As the guard turned, a commotion erupted in the hallway. Two more guards burst in, guns in hand.
