A New Leader Emerges Read online

antibiotics and…” She realized by the look on his face that the word meant nothing; it was pointless to try and explain the function of the Nano-machines it contained, instead she said, “The potion will strengthen her immune system.”

  “Then do...” He withdrew his arm and watched as Victoria poured the liquid between Harriet’s lips. “Who are you?” He said inquiringly.

  “I am Victoria Windsor.”

  “You are a physician?”

  “No, but during my incarceration I qualified as a paramedic.”

  Malcome thought the word incarceration was vaguely familiar, but paramedic meant nothing to him. “You have knowledge of her condition?” He said giving up trying to think of possible meanings.

  “Some,” said Victoria without saying how little she did.

  “You can explain what has happened?”

  Victoria repeated what Ellis had told her. “What you see is a form of preventative medication; an external life support that has been temporarily prolonging her life.”

  External life support: preventative medication. Malcome felt he was learning a whole new medical vocabulary. “You can do something for her?”

  “I hope so?” Victoria pulled a small wallet from the folds of her skirt. She opened it to reveal a screen on one side and a pocket with a folded wire in the other. She eased the end of the wire between Harriet’s lips, and pointed to the display as she spoke. “This will give us a medical diagnostic of her bodily functions. See here… that tells me that they are working passably. Though she has serious damage to her lung. She will need treatments that we cannot give her here.”

  “That thing,” he pointed suspiciously to her hand. “Can tell all that?”

  “Our bodies, from our brain, through our hearts right down to each and every cell generate electrical impulses. It is interrogating these electrical currents in her body, by analyzing them, it can determine the condition of her organs.”

  Malcome stepped closer, his curiosity overwhelming his suspicion. “The scabbing?”

  “Though it may not give the impression, it is Harriet’s own blood, modified to encase and protect the tissue damage. I am not experienced enough to read from the extent of the antibacterial layering how serious the tissue damage is, but I suspect it is severe.”

  “You say her blood, but there was little left, most drained from her wounds. I saw that for myself.”

  Victoria was examining the layering. “Yes and the deficit remains, but as she bled what little blood was there; changed and protects.”

  “There was not enough?” he said dubiously.

  “That’s where the water came in. The antibacterial layering also draws moisture from the air… Using the residue of her blood it creates a plasma, and a product of that, is what you see.” Victoria realized that she didn’t know a very much more on how it worked, but she didn’t need to, as Malcome was staying close within his own knowledge.

  “But even if that is so, then her organs, they would have begun to fail and deteriorate before it was remade?”

  “That’s where the suspension aids her; her body has to all intents and purpose, shut down into as deep a sleep as almost death.”

  “I felt a pulse.”

  “You felt a stimulated pulse; her heart cannot produce one. The aura you see is forcing her muscles to take breaths.”

  Malcome looked at Bertram, and shook his head in mystification.

  “But you said she had colour?” said Alice to him.

  “I did,” he said defensively. “I saw the colour return to her lips.”

  “Not all of the moisture is turned into plasma, some becomes blood. Plasma does not carry the same... things, around the body: some organs like the brain need oxygen.” She glanced quickly at Malcome. “Any moisture that is absorbed… is reconfigured, some plasma, some blood and some produces a serum.” She stopped her examination and looked up at him again. “I’m sorry… I do not mean any disrespect, and I know what I am saying is hard to understand; but you will have no more encountered these procedures, than I have been trained to explain them to you.”

  “No disrespect taken,” he said, feeling slightly offended nonetheless.

  Victoria turned to look at Alice. “You have tendered her well for what you could do, but now she needs far more.” She looked at Bertram “I need to take her to a place where that can be done, can you get a wagon?”

  Bertram nodded but looked at Malcome for advice.

  “I do not recommend her being moved,” Malcome said firmly.

  “I agree, but if she is to live, it is her only hope.”

  Nicholas could hear a new sound, a squeaking, a creaking of strain. He had heard it often before, when carts were hauled up the ramp; it was the sound of taut hemp. Then the clang of metal on metal accompanied it as heavy gear wheels locked into place. Still he refused to believe what he knew was happening until with a slight jolt he felt the floor beneath him shudder.

  Around him the disbelieving hush was broken by the scream of a woman close by, then another, as with a greater tremble the drawbridge shuddered into motion. Now people all him about began to cry out.

  The weight of the great planks of timber was more than doubled by the mass of people on them, so the movement was slow; but enough to unbalance and cause those closest to the gate to fall forwards onto those lower down under the arch. The screams of surprise changed to screams of fear as some fell and were immediately swallowed under others feet. Those close enough to the edges began to jump off into the water, as they did the load decreased and the drawbridge began to lift faster. Now people were piling on top of others before they could scramble away.

  Nicholas was hemmed in by the mass; he could move neither forward nor back, and was being forced to lean to remain upright. Suddenly he was aware of a higher, shriller cry. He looked down to see next to him the top of a child’s head, partially exposed between two people; their bodies were crushing it. No one was taking any notice, but Nicholas found his mind obsessed by the child’s plight. ‘Why were not its parents lifting it where it could breathe?’ he thought, but no one did; no one seemed to care; everyone was only concerned with their own escape. In anger Nicholas thrust his shoulder aggressively between the bodies that barely noticed as he forced him hands down and grabbed the child by its upper arms. He dragged it up and half draped it over his shoulder. The child gasped at last able to breath freely, then sobbed desperately for its parent.

  The pitiful shrieks of fear pierced his ears; but his mind too was now on self-preservation. It was getting hard to stand at the angle the drawbridge was taking, holding the child with one hand he tried to control his slide down towards the gate by jamming his heels into cracks between the planks; others about him were losing their balance. Freed of the crush he laboriously made his way to the edge of the drawbridge: close by on the island people were pushing and jostling. Many fell into the water; others were pushed. Nicholas knew in moment he would slide helplessly down onto the pile of humanity before the gate, and with a total disregard he pulled himself onto the front edge and leapt down. He and the child collapsed on top of already panicked people, and immediately slipped between them. The hysterical child was torn from his grasp. Nicholas fought desperately to regain his footing, stepping and standing almost uncaringly on the soft, giving bodies. Then he grabbed back for the child, and once more dragged it into the clear. The cacophony around him seemed to fade as he looked to what he could see close to the gate. People were banging on the closed door; screaming for the winch men to stop, but their pleading was ignored. As the drawbridge raised three men hung on to the end, Nicholas wondered why they didn’t jump, as they were carried higher and higher. People were pouring from the sides; others not able to move were pushed onto those up against the gate. He watched sickened as the drawbridge finally closed, trapping and crushing.

  Nicholas knew something was terribly wrong. He did not know the rebel plan, though he assumed taking the gate and drawbridges would be part of it. But this could n
ever have been what Simeon intended. It was now beyond doubt that he was too late; the rebellion was failing. All thoughts of warning anyone evaporated as he began to think of escape, but before he could get any relief from the crush there was the loud metallic rattle, of a chain running over a cog. The sound echoed in his ears as a dreadful scream rose back inside the tunnel. Nicholas could hardly move, but he twisted his head in the direction enough to see that the portcullis was running relentlessly down.

  Thick logs the size of tree trunks, bolted together with iron bolts drove downwards driving their ends; sharpened to points and sheathed in more iron onto the crowd below. The terrified screams and shouts from those under it were drowned by yet more shrieks from the first drawbridge, for that too had now started to lift. Again men, women and children, old and young were falling and jumping into the water from the sides.

  It had been only a few minutes from the cheer to now; but he knew countless hours of human misery had unfolded before him.

  The screams had gone; now only sobbing and crying remained. The terror was over, and all that was left was utter disbelief. Nicholas’s sickened mind refused to take in what was happening around him. “No: no, this is not happening,” he repeatedly muttered to no one and everyone, but the sounds and sights around him forced reality into his protesting mind. He stood immovable,