Lamont grinned then sobered. “One last problem. I can't leave level three.”
“I'll have to send them to you.”
“All eighteen thousand? How?”
“I'm not sure. Maybe Bubba Boom or Hank will have a suggestion.”
But I didn't have a chance to ask them because soon after I finished my shift for Lamont at hour twenty a series of loud metallic clangs rolled through Inside. The walls and floor shuddered with each, clearing the shelves and tripping anyone standing, including me. I had been in my room debating between sleeping and visiting Logan.
It wasn't as severe as the Big Shake. More like Little Trembles.
I joined Lamont in the exam room.
“You think it was another bomb?” she asked.
“I hope not, but unless a piece of machinery malfunctioned there aren't many other ways to cause that much movement.” And then I remembered Jacy had talked about creating a distraction. Bubba Boom had assured me Hank had changed his schedule and eliminated the need for a distraction. Perhaps Jacy suspected an ambush. Otherwise it meant Jacy risked all our lives just because he could.
Helping Lamont prep for casualties, I worried about my friends. I would have liked to search for them, but already a few injured people had arrived.
I relaxed when it became obvious that most of the injuries were minor. Cuts, bruises, a few broken arms and legs, a couple concussions, and a number of sprained ankles and wrists. Nothing like the overwhelming deluge after the Big Shake. And no burns.
Sometime during the next ten hours, Bubba Boom stopped by. He had a small cut on his arm, but wouldn't let me clean and bandage it.
He waved away my efforts. “It's fine. Save the supplies for those who need it.”
When I asked about the others, he said, “I haven't heard of any fatalities.” He pulled me outside and a few meters away from the infirmary. He lowered his voice. “The Transmission blew again. Jacy's Travas either overloaded it by mistake or incompetence. Or they did it on purpose.”
“I heard them say fix.”
“Maybe that meant fix it so it won't run again.”
“That bad?”
“It's a mangled mess. We won't know for a week or more.”
I wondered if Logan had watched the Travas with his video camera. Hank and Bubba Boom still thought he was in protective custody. They hadn't asked how I would bypass Jacy’s Controllers, but at least they hunted for the active link.
“Any news about the link?” I asked.
“Nothing. And we'll have to postpone the search until we can figure out what to do about the Transmission.”
Just what we needed—more delays. Jacy was bound to clamp down on our freedoms soon and release all the Travas. It still puzzled me why he hadn't by now.
After the last of the injured had been seen and I slept for over eight hours, I climbed into the ducts and visited Logan.
He pounced on me as soon as I dropped down into his room.
“I've been calling you for hours,” he said.
“I turned my receiver off so I could sleep. Sorry. Are you hurt?”
“No.” He twisted the bottom of his shirt, coiling it tight.
“What's wrong? Did you see what happened?—”
“Of course! I saw it all and I've been dying to talk to someone about it.” He paced and twisted. “I'm bored.”
I glanced at all his half-completed devices. “No. You're lonely. I should stop by more often.”
