He doesn’t listen. He tosses Alkaline through the boards at the end, and then runs him back in here, hitting the villain against the last of the load-bearing beams. That’s all it takes. The whole ceiling and room rumbles and crumbles, and there’s nowhere to run. I couldn’t make it even if I could move. Justice looks at the near-unconscious Alkaline, then at me. I can’t see his eyes under the mask, but the fact he quickly looks back at Alkaline tells me all I need to know. Revenge trumps my life.
A horrible pain shoots through the top of my head. I collapse to the ground as the tunnel topples around me. My city is swallowing me up. I’m dying. I’m lifted, transported at an incredible rate. Stomach, limbs, and brain all left behind a few seconds. I fall away from the light into the dark abyss of nothingness.
Twenty years too late. Hope they let me in.
***
Pain. This is how I realize I’m still alive.
My head, my ribs, my legs, my face, my arm, my foot all throb in pain. The rest of me isn’t fairing much better. Slowly, I open my eyes. Crap. I’m in the hospital. I hate hospitals. There are tubes and sensors attached in some very intimate places hooked up to machines on either side of me. The room looks like a jungle with all the flowers. Harry’s asleep in the chair on my left, his head resting on the edge of my bed. Silly man still has his glasses on. I pet his soft hair and he stirs. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. It takes him a moment to realize I’m awake.
“Jo!” he says with relief.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He kisses me with gusto, but even that hurts. I wince and he pulls away. “Sorry. Sorry.”
I try to touch my lip to find the source of discomfort, but my upper arm flares with pain as I flex. “Ouch!” My arm is covered in bandages from shoulder to elbow.
“Your arm had a bad chemical burn. Third degree. There might be some scaring.”
Oh. Good thing I’m not vain. “What else?”
“Um, you have two cracked ribs but no internal bleeding, a nasty gash on your foot, a bruised jaw,” he sighs, “some first and second degree burns, countless cuts and bruises, and two concussions. One minor and one major.”
“Shit. Is there any good news?”
“You woke up,” he says, voice cracking.
I’m taken aback and a little scared by his response. “How—How long have I been out?”
“Just a day, but…they said if you didn’t wake up within forty-eight hours, the chances…” He shakes his head to expel the thought. “You have brain swelling.”
I squeeze his hand. “With my hard head? I’m shocked it even made a dent.” This garners a smile from us both, though his is strained. He kisses the palm of my hand and holds it up to his scratchy cheek. Then I remember. “Oh, God! Lucy! She—”
“She’s okay. She’s fine. We found her.”
“Is she okay?”
“Mild concussion and a broken arm. They sent her home this morning.”
“What happened?”
“I was just parking at the station when I got the call about the bomb. I wasn’t even halfway back when Justice came over the police band saying he was tracking you, but lost the signal at the outskirts of the Ward. Every roller was dispatched, and even Lord Nightingale from Independence showed up to help. The GPS on the phones didn’t work down there, and I only heard you half the time. We only pinpointed you when Justice heard the explosion. By the time we got down there, he was tending to you and Lucy.”
“What about Alkaline?”
“They’re still excavating the scene. It’s a mess.”
“You haven’t found him?” I’m surprised by the amount of fear in my voice.
“Jo, there’s a sinkhole on Siegel Street. It’s completely caved in on both sides of the station, and we combed the surrounding area for half a day. There is no way he survived. None. Justice barely got you out of there in time.”
“You’ll keep looking, right?”
“We will, but the city engineers don’t think we can get to the scene within a week. Not even he can survive without food or water for that long. Don’t worry.” He kisses my hand again. “I’m going to get the doctor, okay?”
I sigh when he leaves. Lucy’s okay, Alkaline’s probably dead, and I caught up on some much needed sleep. All in all not a bad day’s work. I close my eyes. I think maybe that bump on my head accessed my long-dormant optimistic side. When I get out of here maybe I’ll become a clown. Or these drugs they have me on just rock.
The door opens. Poking and prodding time. I open my eyes, and my stomach clenches. He looks terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, hair wild, even his skin has lost its glow. I want to jump out of this bed and throw my arms around him to make us both feel better. I suppress it. Justin makes no move to come closer. He stays by the door, just waiting for me to lead the way. I avert my eyes, giving him nothing.