The same static replied.
A trail of prickling cold worked its way over Hallie’s skin. There should be someone out there. The others could not simply have vanished.
“Anyone on this channel. This is Modron. Come back.” Modron was frowning now, and Hallie thought she looked even paler, face tight.
There was a faint clicking sound and then a thready voice. “Tortain here.”
“Status?” Modron’s voice was a snap.
“Roof fell. Trapped. Inside.”
A mix of relief that someone else was still with them and disappointment that it wasn’t Girard rushed through Hallie.
As one, she and Modron turned to the ruined house and then got to their feet.
“Should I bring this?” Hallie asked, lifting the oxygen tank.
“Can’t hurt,” Modron said, and set off for the house.
The inside of the house was even worse than the outside, a thick trail of smoke rising from the place where Hallie thought the table had been. The smoke had cleared enough that her eyes weren’t streaming and she didn’t have to cough. She could also see the shape of a body lying where an internal doorway had been, a heavy wooden beam across the torso. Even as she feared the worst, one of the feet twitched.
“Modron. That you?” The voice was weak, barely there, but sounded like the one they’d just heard on Modron’s radio.
“Yes. Got yourself properly stuck, didn’t you?” Modron said in a falsely cheerful voice as she stopped by the prone man and fallen beam. “No, don’t try to move. Let me assess you first. Miss Talbot, could you give him the mask?”
“Of course,” Hallie said, and moved to the man’s head, carefully stepping around the end of the beam. Tortain had lost his face covering at some point so she just had to place the mask over his mouth and nose. His eyes closed as he took his first breath in and Hallie saw tears on his lashes. She could only imagine how much it had hurt him to breathe in the smoke.
“Well, the good news is that your spine is in one piece so, with a bit of care, you’ll make a full recovery. The bad news is I think your leg is broken, so it’s going to hurt like hell when we lift the beam off and get you out of here,” Modron said, in that same falsely cheerful voice which Hallie was coming to think of as her medical voice. Then Hallie realised that, without her truth sense, she might not have noticed the lie in the other woman’s tone. Modron was doing her best to be calm, professional and reassuring.
“As long as I’ll be able to walk again, I’ll take the pain,” Tortain said, voice muffled under the mask. He shifted, as if he was going to prop himself up on his elbows.
“No. Stay still. Miss Talbot and I will do the lifting. If that’s alright with you?” Modron asked, looking across at Hallie.
“Of course. Just tell me what to do. And please, call me Hallie.”
“Right. Hallie, then. Can you get the other end of the beam and we’ll lift it to one side?”
Hallie just nodded and braced herself for more pain. Under normal circumstances, lifting the heavy wood should have been relatively easy, but with every part of her still hurting, she knew it was going to be difficult. After a few agonising moments, during which sweat coated her whole body and she had to bite her lip to hold in curses and sounds of pain, the beam was off Tortain’s body and tossed aside onto the rubble-strewn floor.
Between them, Modron and Hallie managed to get Tortain onto his feet, one foot off the ground, Tortain clutching the oxygen cylinder to his chest with one arm, breathing harsh and rapid. The three of them shuffled out of the building and towards the van. As they passed through the doorway, Hallie caught the smell of burning and glanced over, seeing a flame soaring over the broken wall of the house. She gave a wordless cry and she and Modron redoubled their efforts, dragging Tortain away from the house just as the rubble inside caught light in a dull roar.
The searing heat of the fire snapped at Hallie’s heels as she and Modron more or less carried Tortain to the other side of the van as it was the best shelter they had right now. To Hallie’s surprise and relief, they found Girard lying on the ground there. He was motionless and unresponsive when she called his name. Fear made her shiver despite the heat of the sun until she saw his chest rise and fall. Unconscious. The important thing was that he was alive. Then Hallie and Modron went back around the van to gather up the other man, who was still unconscious, moving him to the shaded side of the van as well so that there were now three men lying on the ground. Tortain was still breathing, using the oxygen mask, eyes closed. He was too pale. In severe pain, Hallie thought. One of his legs wasn’t lying straight. Hallie had never broken her leg, and could only imagine how much it hurt.
Even as Hallie collapsed against the van, every part of her aching, breathing harsh and rapid, running footsteps snapped her back to attention. She whipped her head around to see Modron already on her feet, weapon ready.
Struggling to her feet, Hallie scrambled to get hold of her own weapon just as a group of black-clad people rounded the nearest corner. Hallie leant back against the van with a sigh of relief as she recognised the tactical team, Frollo in the lead. They came to a halt in front of the three prone men.
“We lost the fifth man,” Frollo said, jaw tight, words clipped.
“Almost had him,” Dechtire said, sounding as frustrated as her boss. “He had to show himself to throw that firebomb.”
“Is the van driveable?” Frollo asked, directing his question to Modron.
“Haven’t had time to check,” Modron said, “although there is a flat tyre.”
“Griff, get that tyre fixed,” Frollo ordered.
The other conscious and upright male member of the team acknowledged his command with a briefyes sir, then moved around Hallie and the others. She watched as he pulled the sheet of metal off the side of the van, apparently not affected by the scorching heat from the house fire not that far away, then turned her attention back to Frollo.
