Split Infinity (23 page)

I stop agreeing to their tests. I don’t eat. Days turn into weeks, then months. On the day that’s meant to be my first day of school, I get held down by three orderlies while they ram an IV drip into my arm.

On the morning of my fifteenth birthday I wake up, gasping from a nightmare where I was stuck in a fire, watching people around me scream, while I was trapped, unable to help.

From snatches of comments I’ve overheard, it seems like Alistair and Mason are still fighting to have me released. But the appeal hearing has been delayed so many times that I gave up weeks ago. Mason checked everything with his lawyer before the application hearing so I’m pretty sure they have no legal basis to keep me here. They haven’t charged me with anything, but it doesn’t seem to matter what the law says. They simply keep delaying, and I stay locked away.

I think about jumping ahead a whole heap of years, enough to really screw with the professor and his tests. He still believes I can’t skip anymore so it would be the best kind of
take that
. But I don’t want to leave everyone behind, when they’ve fought so hard for me. And I know that if I disappear in a long skip, I might miss a chance to escape here. A nurse who dozes off. A forgotten lock. Something.

It must be about two months into the school year when I start feeling sick. The back of my throat is scratchy and raw. Dry eyes. My taste seems to go off, too. One of the nurses keeps coughing; there must be something going round.

Over the following day the symptoms grow worse, but the actual cold still doesn’t break through.

As I wake up on the third morning, I slowly register the rawness in my throat and a strange thickness in my nose. My tongue tastes wrong, charry somehow …

I sit up, alone in the room, as my heart shoots into panic. It’s not a virus that’s making me feel this way. A low mist slips silently under the door and spreads though the room.

Smoke.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I
CAN HEAR RUNNING
footsteps in the hallway. The smoke is thick by now. My head aches from it. Or maybe that’s my brain going into overdrive. The idea of being stuck in this room while a fire sweeps through the building is about the worst kind of horror I can imagine.

I could skip to escape, of course, but we’re not on the ground floor, and I can’t trust what state the building might be in when I return. The door slides open and Nurse Warrah bursts in. She stops and blinks as if her thoughts are churning too fast for her to speak. ‘Get dressed.’

I’m out of the bed already. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Just …’ She waves a hand in my direction, already firing up the comscreen. ‘Just do as I say, okay?’

I run to the bathroom where my clothes are, keenly aware how much I don’t want to be left behind. I’m an illegal, after all. Why would they bother to save me? I pull on a shirt with long sleeves and jeans: scant protection from radiant heat, but better than nothing.

Warrah is frowning at the comscreen when I come out. I stand where I can see over one shoulder.

On the screen is a satellite view of the city in real time. The outer sections of the northern suburbs are obscured by smoke, so it’s hard to see what’s going on. She clicks on an overlay map that shows the streets and suburbs and I get the first view of where I’ve been held these past months: right on the fringe of the city limits, northeast of the CBD.

She clicks one more time and a shaded overlay appears: the extent of the fire.

My jaw drops. ‘
Man
…’ It’s
massive.
And coming this way.

‘That’s out of date.’ With quick taps of her fingernail, she points to a spot on the screen. ‘It’s closer than that. That ag farm is already gone.’

‘But …’ I shake my head, panic rising. ‘We have to get out.
Now
.’

I dart to the entrypad, and start on a manual override. Who cares if she can see what I’m doing. There’s no way I want to be stuck in here when the fire hits. I need to be out and find somewhere I can skip safely. And I have to find Mum, make sure she’s okay. I need to be free …

‘Ang, talk to me,’ Warrah calls into the mic. ‘How long now?’

‘Nearly there. Just sit tight,’ comes the reply.

When I finish the manual override, the pad gives two short beeps: no go. Should have known.

‘We’re getting you out, Carolyn,’ says Warrah, still at the comscreen. ‘It’ll be okay.’

I let my hand drop. Can I trust her?

Warrah glances at the screen and then jerks her head my way, calling me back.

‘Three days ago, a lightning storm sparked fires in an arc across the north of the outer suburbs,’ she says. ‘The MFB got to some, but one took hold in the Toolangi Forest in the northeast and another destroyed farmland around Whittlesea and Kilmore up north.’

So the challenge wasn’t responding in time, it was dealing with the number of fires. Even if Mason and the others sounded the alarm in time, there must have been too many for the fire brigade to control.

Warrah leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. ‘We’ve been watching, of course,’ she continues. ‘The bulk of the city was out of the path, only affected by smoke. But when the cool change hit this morning, the wind changed direction and the two fires joined up …’

She turns back to the screen and shakes her head.

I try to swallow. My throat is so dry, it hurts. It’s the most enormous fire front I’ve ever seen. There’s no need to remember dream images anymore; I can see what’s going to happen from looking at the map right in front of me. Escaping isn’t my only worry. Most of the people I care about are out of the danger zone, but if the firestorm continues through here it’s headed for the northern suburbs.

Mum’s office building is in Mill Park, right in its path.

‘When did they send out the evac alert?’ I blurt. Maybe my warnings will be enough, and she’ll respond quicker this time.

‘They’re not sending one out,’ Warrah says. ‘At least that’s what the professor told me. It’s too late to get them out without causing mass panic.’

‘But surely some people would get out,’ I say, my voice rising. ‘It’s better than nothing …’

There must be something in my tone that makes Warrah turn. When she sees the expression on my face she rests a hand on my elbow.

‘Don’t worry. They’ll have alerted anyone on AA-level rations.’ She lifts a broad shoulder. ‘This is one of those times it really pays to be high level. The citizens who sponsored your application are on that list, I’m sure.’ She drops her hand and turns away. ‘Not that they’ve been all that
helpful
these past months, from what I hear.’

‘But I …’ I begin. ‘There’s … Can I use the comscreen?’

‘No.’ Again she turns to consider me, but this time her eyes narrow. ‘Why?’

What can I say? My hands clasp together as I push them against my mouth, holding back the secret that might save Mum. Or land her in jail. What if I give them Mum’s name and they work out who she is?

‘Okay, Nurse Warrah. It’s time,’ comes a voice from the comscreen. ‘ETA for the helejet is five minutes.’

Warrah pauses, still watching me, before turning to reply to the message: ‘Thanks, Ang, we’re on our way.’ She switches off the comscreen and swivels to face me again. ‘Ready?’

‘Sure,’ I mumble. But I don’t look at her as I say it. My mind has zeroed in on that one word: helejet.

An idea flares in my mind.

I stick close behind Warrah. If I lose her, I’ll have no idea which way to go. We duck low beneath the smoke as we run past three labs with vials and pipettes and other sciency stuff that I’ve never seen, then one room that looks like a lunch room. All empty.

We’re both breathing hard and coughing when we reach a fire escape at the end of the corridor. Warrah doesn’t hesitate, just turns and runs straight upstairs, each breath coming in wheezy pants. Before I follow her, I can’t help pausing to look down the stairwell, towards the ground floor. It feels safer down there, the promise of solid ground. But the fire is too close for me to escape if I go that way. I’d have no time to contact Mum before I jump, no matter how much I’d like to try.

I grip the handrail and start after Warrah. The air is actually pretty clear in the stairwell thanks to the almost airtight fire doors.

Both of us are panting by the time we reach the doorway leading to the roof. Sweat drips down Warrah’s flushed face. She lifts her wrist to swipe when I say, ‘Wait. Can I ask you a question?’

‘If you’re fast.’

‘Why did you help me? Why warn me not to jump, let me know what the drug was meant to do?’

Her whole chest heaves. ‘Because if they couldn’t stop you from disappearing, I knew what would happen next.’ Her jaw pushes forwards, her anger clear. ‘The only reason you’re still alive is because they think they stopped you time travelling.’

I stare back as my mouth clamps shut. No words. This woman saved my life.

Before I can work out what to say, Warrah swipes and pushes a shoulder against the door. Immediately I’m hit with smoky wind blasting so hard that I can hardly see. I lift a hand against the whipping dust.

A guy wearing goggles and a long white coat has just made it to the roof ahead of us. Ang, I assume. We all turn to find the sky billowing angry black smoke. Even as we watch, the fire beneath it continues to grow and then die, replacing itself newer and stronger, rolling towards us like a monster with a single purpose.

All around us, ash is blowing in swirls like black snow. Some is eerily pretty, but other flakes are glowing, angry red suckers sent out from the monster, searching for a new place to catch hold.

The helejet looks like an oversized wasp, with six fat jet engines for legs. It has to fight against the force of the wind just to position itself for landing and I find myself straining with it, willing it to land safely. To save us.

It hits position on the landing pad and Ang lifts an arm, holding us back until the pilot signals.

Now we’re running through the dirt and the ash and the smoke, clambering into the cabin. I fall onto a seat in the corner and strap myself in as the helejet shifts again into a slow lift.

Ang sits near the pilot and, even though I don’t catch half the things the pilot says, enough swearwords reach me in between ‘ash’ and ‘smoke’ to get the idea he’s not happy being sent into this. There’s a pause as the jets shifts mid-air into high rev and then, with a whoosh, the helejet lifts. My stomach lurches as all the blood seems to be sucked to my feet. Despite the warmth from the wind, my hands are cold and shaky. I close my eyes and force myself to concentrate on each breath. This vertigo is like nothing I’ve known.

I grip the shoulder straps and manage a glance out the window. It’s hard to see what’s out there because it’s so smoky.
Dammit.

I’m not sure I can do this. Not sure anymore if it’s even a good idea. I haven’t had a chance to test for sure that I can skip after being dosed with Zygoral. But almost as soon as I contemplate staying in the cabin, waiting until it takes me safely back to the ground, I know that I can’t. I have to warn Mum before the fire continues towards Mill Park. She’ll be listening for emergency alerts, but there won’t be any. And once she sees the fire coming there might not be any time to get away.

I thought I’d be with her when the fire started. Hoped that she’d know how to skip by now. Somehow I’ve managed to make the same mistake again. The firestorm is coming for her, and I’m not there.

I have to trust my instincts that I can still skip.

Strangely, it’s Boc who flashes into my mind, with his constant pushing to go higher, crossing his arms and daring me to try harder.
Once you harness the fear, you’ll be able to do anything.

If it wasn’t for him pushing, playing with danger, I’d never contemplate the jump I’m about to take.

First time around, I was caught by the Feds, trapped in our room, because of Boc.

This time, it’s because of him that I have a chance to escape, and rescue Mum.

When I check again outside the window the ash has been replaced by a half-decent view of grey sky. It’s a sign that we’re out of danger and immediately my heart lurches at what that clear sky means, beating so hard in my throat that I’m sure the veins must be throbbing.

I suck a sharp breath in through my nose, drawing on all I’ve learnt. Somehow I manage to push down the fear into my chest and hold it there.

Before I can stop myself, I steal one last glance at Warrah. She’s already watching me, concerned creases around her eyes. Maybe she can see how much of a mess I am right now.

My chin drops as I mouth, ‘Thank you.’

The last thing I see before I close my eyes is a confused tilt of her head as she goes to speak.

But I’ll never know what she was going to say, because I squeeze my eyes shut, cross my fingers.

And disappear.