CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
WRECKAGE
CRAWLING ON ALL fours, William Cole worked his way through the shattered remains of the Tereshkova’s main gondola. As he moved, he tried to ignore the sounds of battle coming from outside, and the ominous groans and creaks of the superstructure above his head. All he could think of was Marie. Nothing else mattered to him, except to see her safe. He crawled across the carpeted expanse of the main passenger lounge, through piles of broken furniture and shattered fittings, onto the hard steel deck of the corridor that led aft to the infirmary.
“Marie!” he called. “Hold on, I’m coming.”
In places, the corridor’s ceiling had hinged down to within inches of the floor, and he had to squirm and wriggle his way through sharp-edged gaps that were too small for him. By the time he reached the infirmary, the skin on his arms, shoulders and hips had been scraped raw, and his knees were bruised and battered.
“William?” Her voice sounded weak.
“I’m here,” he cried, “I’m here.”
Part of a medical trolley had wedged itself in the doorway, and he had to squeeze around it. When he got inside, he saw his worst fears realised. The ceiling had collapsed in the same way as in the rest of the gondola, leaving only a few feet of clearance. Marie, who had been lying on the bed at the time of the crash, now lay pinned to the mattress.
“Marie!”
“William.”
Her head was turned towards him, held against the pillow by the steel ceiling panel pressing down from above on her cheek and chest. The foot of the bed was a tangle of wreckage, and he couldn’t see her legs.
“Oh, crap. Marie.” He knelt beside the bed and reached in to touch her face. “Don’t worry, honey. Don’t try to move. I’ll get you out.”
Bracing his back against the fallen ceiling, he tried to heave upwards, pushing until sweat broke out on his forehead and his temples felt ready to burst.
“No.” Her voice was a whisper, but it stopped him. “What do you mean?”
Marie licked her lips.
“No, you’re not getting me out.”
William felt panic surge up inside.
“But, I—”
“No.” Marie swallowed. “It’s too late. I’m sorry.” William stopped pressing against the ceiling and dropped to his knees. He reached for her, and brushed a curl of auburn hair away from her eyes. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to, my love.”
He ran his hand back along the bed, past her shoulders and down, following the curve of her body beneath the blanket. He got as far as her hip before he found something blocking the way. His fingers hit metal where there should have been flesh. A girder had broken through from above, driving the ceiling down into the mattress. Her abdomen and legs were crushed. Her torso stopped in a mess of torn blankets, slathered in something warm and sticky.
Fighting back a cry of anguish, he jerked back his hand and, without looking at the blood on his fingers, wiped it on the sheet.
“No,” he said. There had to have been some sort of mistake…
Marie closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
William wanted to cry. He wanted to curl into a ball and block his ears, and make it all go away.
“It’s not fair,” he said.
Marie looked at him with liquid eyes.
“You haven’t lost me,” she whispered. “I’m still out there somewhere, on another parallel close to this one.”
“I’m not leaving you. Not like this.” William’s mind raced. There had to be some way to save her, some way he could get her out.
Overhead, the wreck quivered. Something in the corridor collapsed with a metallic crash.
“You have to go now. Lila needs you.”
William blinked.
“Lila?”
“I’m going to need you to look after her now.”
“I can’t.” Misery threatened to envelop him. “I can barely look after myself.”
“Of course you can. Look at you. You risked your life crawling in here. I need you to be just as strong for her.”
“But I don’t know anything about being a father.”
“You know enough.” She winced in pain, and tried to adjust her position beneath the weight pressing down on her. “Besides, you’re all she’s got. I need you to be strong for her, William. Can you promise me that?”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Promise me.”
He reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin felt clammy. Her bright eyes implored him.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I promise.”
Marie let her eyes fall shut.
“Then go find her. Go now.”
“But what about you?”
Marie kept her eyes closed. Above her, the ceiling pinged and popped as it struggled to support the weight of the collapsing structure above it.
“We both know what’s going to happen to me, and it’s not going to be pretty. I don’t want you here when it happens. You have to get out.” She opened her eyes and fixed him with a brittle stare. “You have to get out. You’re all she’s got.”
William looked down at the gun in his hands. He pictured his daughter’s face, and his fingers squeezed the grip. Marie was right. It didn’t matter how many white suits were outside waiting for him; he knew what he had to do. Lila was out there somewhere, and he had to protect her.
He was her father.
He touched his wife’s face for the final time.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll find her.”
Marie smiled.
“Thank you, my love.”