Lake Merrin Read online

Page 10


  What was that? Is someone talking to me? I cannot speak; the foam has locked my mouth in place.

  “We’re nearly there, just hang on.”

  I definitely heard that.

  “Hurry up! How much do they have to go, WayWocket?”

  “Not sure.”

  That is them making all that noise—trying to save us! Yes! Hold on, little girl, we are going to make it! All this mess must be WayWocket's work. I am going to give that crazy Gnome a massive kiss!

  I feel a piece of foam being pulled away. It takes out some hair—ouch! This is going to hurt. At least the little girl is wrapped in my cloak so she will not be injured. Another piece of foam comes off. Wow, that hurt even more than the first one!

  “Are you alright? This foam is really stuck to you. Don't panic, we’re doing our best to get it off you.” Yes, along with half my skin. “WayWocket says that you should be all good to breathe in there. Something about the aeration of the foam allows oxygen to pass through, or something like that.”

  I figured that out earlier, but at least I do not have to worry about running out of the air. And that is another clump of hair—owww! I guess the procedure in place is that my mouth is the last thing to be free of this foam. If I could, I would be yelling at them, cursing WayWocket's name!

  I feel my limbs coming free. They give me some notice before they rip the foam off by giving it a yank before full-blown tearing it away from me. The weight lifts off my chest.

  “We have the little girl. Just need to take off a couple more pieces, and you will be free too.” I am so glad that she is free, and soon I will be too—free to punch WayWocket in the face!

  “Lana has been checked over, and she is all fine, just a bit of smoke inhalation. Gunnar is treating her.” Gunnar is treating her? With what, snarky remarks? Looking over I see a strange green light. “Brace yourself now, we're going to pull off the piece that is on your face.”

  About bloody time! I should control myself this once. If I do not, it could look bad. I could look like a foolish man or, like some people think, a hero. I knew heroes in the army. You know where they are now? Dead! That could have been me. This will be the last time I choose to do the heroic thing.

  I can feel the tug. One, two …

  Control yourself, no screaming.

  Three!

  …

  That was very unpleasant.

  “Before we help you out of the rest of the foam, how are you feeling?”

  Once I blink the brightness of the sun away, I can see Stillwater standing over me. “Just peachy, boss. Just another day in the Watch.”

  She looks at me, unimpressed, and says, “Good work saving the girl.”

  With a heave, and a few people helping, I pull free of the last piece of foam. Ow. I am not too sure how much hair I have left. Head check, okay, missing a few chunks of hair. Might need to comb that over or shave the whole thing. Could be worse—I could be dead.

  I see WayWocket standing there congratulating himself; he looks like he is preening for some kind of reward. “WayWocket, my friend, thank you so much for the help.” I play to the crowd that is gathering. “I am glad that those strategies were put in place for this situation.”

  He looks aghast at the sudden attention from the crowd gathering around him. Take that, WayWocket!

  “Please, please, I—I'm, um, don't—” Women are hugging him and men are pounding his back. He yells out, “Stillwater! Gunnar!”

  Gunnar moves forward, giving me a dirty look with his green eyes. “Clear the way! We need to let the fire brigade through. If you still wish to do the bucket line, the well is that way and best to get to it!” He lowers his voice. “WayWocket doesn’t like attention. That was foolish, gonna take hours to calm him down. I have no words. You have upset WayWocket!”

  Stillwater steps in. “Okay, enough chit-chat. The brigade will take care of this now. First, off to the shrine to have you looked over. After that, we'll head back, and you can fill in the incident report about this whole situation. Form up and head out!”

  Why is everyone pissed at me? I did something stupid, yes, but very brave. This lot is acting like I killed someone. I have no idea what their collective problem is. And now I am getting the silent treatment. What, are we back in school? I mean, at least one thing about growing up in an orphanage is that you are surrounded by mainly rejected half-breeds. You cannot make fun of anyone because you all have the same background—being dumped at the front door. Our non-Elven parents need to learn to keep it in their pants!

  This mood is so grim. I cannot even find the street names funny anymore. Look, it is Shrine Road, ha! Not even this one—even if it comes off Petition Street and I think it leads to Resolution Boulevard. Once we are a bit away from the fire scene, I will ask what I did wrong. Bloody crazy people! Should I have let that child die?

  We turn on to Petition Street. I ask, “Stillwater, what did I do wrong? I saved that girl, and all of you are treating me like a monster. I know it was a stupid thing to do, and it was the last thing I would usually have done, but I heard her crying, and that was it—I had to help.” Well, that is the half-truth. Bloody muscle memory! “Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the walk to the shrine or is someone going to say something?”

  Stillwater stops, looks at me, and replies, “You really have no idea what you have done? We keep under the radar, everything we do is not to make waves. Yes, we solve cold cases, but who cares about those, except for the victims’ relatives—”

  “What! If someone is in trouble, you look the other way? Just so no one will notice the Rejects? I think that name is not just because you are outcasts of the Watch, it is—”

  Gunnar walks up and punches me in the gut, dropping me to the ground. Damn you. Once I can breathe, I am going to let you have it!

  “Shut up, we aren't cowards! The Rejects are not here for glory. We serve the community, not ourselves.”

  Great, you knock the wind out of me, and now you give me a lecture? It seems he is not finished.

  “Yes, if someone is in trouble, we help, but the firemen were on their way. It is their job to control the situation; it is not ours. But there you went, half-cocked. At best, you could have killed yourself. At worst, you could have caused a backdraft that would have intensified the fire. It might even have spread to other buildings. Did you think about that? Do you even think at all? What is one child, compared to this whole quarter?”

  I get to my feet and glare down into his eyes, and then I look at each one of the Rejects. “Not … for … the glory?” I try to catch my breath, but cannot help my voice dropping an octave to a growl, “A child is not worth the risk? Yes, you are right, I could have caused the fire to spread. Yes, I could have died, or worse, caused others to die. But to think that saving a child is not worth the risk, you are worse than rejects—you are losers!”

  I turn and stomp off. I can hear them calling out to me. That was one of the most stupid things I have done, but that child, Lana, was worth it. It was lousy growing up without parents, but I have seen parents after their child has died in an accident or from illness—I would wish that on no one!

  Now the ground is coming closer ... I cannot seem to breathe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Journal Entry One Continued…

  Smoke inhalation was the least of my problems over that series of days. I did happen to meet the local leader of the White, Abbot Kamil. You would never think he was one of St Jara’s Crusaders when he was young. The church is weird. He explained to me once that to become one of the White you have to completely understand each aspect, the violence of the Orange, the logic of the Blue and the soul of the Green before you become the White. But Kamil is a great man. He has done things that I will never truly understand…

  Not again! I need to learn from my past experiences. Do not fall unconscious, because you will wake up in strange places. I glance around. It looks like some sort of hospital; most people are in the Green Aspect of the
Trinity. A few beds are filled. I guess I am not in a life-threatening condition because there are not many people around me. Oh goody, some water. My throat is so dry—must be because of the fire, dummy. Fire is hot, makes you thirsty. I have not drunk anything since those three ales for breakfast. Still, I would prefer a beer over this water.

  A fat, jovial man in all-white waddles over. Damn, that is funny. “Oh, you are awake.” Thank you so much, Mr Observant. “Stillwater told me you did a brave thing today; going into that burning building and saving that poor child. I will commend you to the Duke for such an act of courage. If the Commander—” he glances sadly over to another bed “— were awake I would tell him about it too. But that poison is still damaging his body. It will take time for him to heal.”

  I look at him and say, in a raspy voice, “I am in the shrine? Where is the rest of my squad?”

  He is the boss man, I can tell; he is one of the White. Even with his jovial appearance, he has some steel in his blue eyes. “Yes, you are in the healing quarter of the Shrine of the Trinity. You have some bruises and smoke damage to your lungs. You are recovering, it is the afternoon now, and the rest of the squad left to finish their patrol. You are in good hands.”

  I turn and thank him. One of his acolytes comes over and whispers something in his ear. I try to overhear, but he is too quiet. He turns to me. “I must go. If you experience any difficulty breathing, please summon one of the acolytes.” And with that, he is gone.

  Wonder what is so important? Not saying that I am that important, it just struck me as strange that he had such a calm demeanour, but with one message became quite frazzled. Oh well, I hope this is not a male-only shrine.

  My breath seems all good; no pain or anything. I do not feel that bad. All I really want to do is punch Gunnar. Right, now where are my pants?

  Damn it, one of the Green healers sees me moving around. Here comes the lecture.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Um, back to my squad. I feel fine. I must have just had a dizzy spell earlier. You should be proud of your commitment to the Trinity and the Green—I feel so much better.”

  I think I pissed this one off. “We haven't given you the all-clear to leave yet. You have some serious injuries. Now you need to rest!”

  I stand up, look him in the eye, and reply, “You know you cannot keep me here. I feel better. Fine, if I cannot get two steps out the door, then you are right, and I am wrong. But I am ready to leave, so thank you for the treatment, but please get out of my way!”

  I put on pants. What is with healers taking off my pants? Must be some religious thing. He and the other acolytes give me the death stare, but I know they respect the natural time for a person’s death. Unless my destiny is to die under the care of a mob of religious dudes, I think I would be alright. I would prefer to die from a harem of gorgeous women. Yep, that would be the way to go; in a jumbled mess of women's parts.

  I think the Rejects should be heading back to headquarters by now; if not, I will just wait in their basement office. Time to make good with them. Well, it is not far to Barrack Road from Shrine Street. Just have to use Coin Street off Petition Road. I suppose that if you do something wrong, you need a coin to petition the shrine to gain forgiveness. Hmm, I wonder if that was on purpose or if it is just a funny coincidence. You never know with these street namers. I think there might be an inside joke underneath it all. Before I smack them on the side of the head, I should check if it was all just in jest.

  Back at the barracks now. Keep my head down, and I should be fine. It looks pretty quiet at the moment, and I wonder where everyone is. Who cares, fewer people to think about what I am doing.

  Head downstairs to the mouldy hole known as our office. I still love the soft glowing globes; they are more beautiful than gaslights or candles. Gives the impression of a mysterious aura surrounding everyone. Feels like you can see them as their true selves, or maybe they are just some trippy lights—oh well.

  Why are they so pissed off about what I did? It is not like I killed anyone or accused someone of a crime they did not do. And it is not like I planned to do it. I just acted. That is what my army Sarge drilled into me: ‘Act, don’t think; you’ll live longer.’ Was it wrong for me to save someone?

  All I am doing is going round and round in my head, questioning something I guess I do not comprehend. No point worrying about this anymore. Hopefully, they are over this, and we can get back to finding out about those linked crimes.

  Great, they are here. Stillwater calls out, “So you have the all-clear?”

  I reply, “Yes, they said I could go back to work. I feel fine, so nothing to worry about.”

  And here goes bloody Gunnar with his sarcastic comments. “Like we were worried. You are still the stupidest, ugliest human I have ever had the unlucky chance to encounter.”

  Did I say sarcastically? I meant outright insulting.

  “From your dumbstruck expression, I can see I need to be more obvious. You know how much paperwork we had to fill out? The foam bomb use in public; the report on your stupid, dumb-arse, bloody 'hero' event?”

  I look at Gunnar, Stillwater, and WayWocket. Well, at least WayWocket is not looking at me; he is too busy doing some weird magic-like thing. I am starting to see how this relationship works with Stillwater and Gunnar. Both are harsh, insulting, and angry, but Gunnar is the hammer, while Stillwater is the hand. I hate my life sometimes.

  “Yes, Gunnar, I am sorry that you had to do your job. But I am not going to apologise for anything—”

  “I completely agree with you, Lone Solo!”

  No, no, no! Why me? After those exact words, why does Zlata need to walk in?

  Zlata continues, “You should be praising this brave individual! With his heroic act, he saved a precious child from a horrid death. I guess it’s lucky that I needed to talk to you, Stillwater, so I can also pass along the Count's congratulations to you, Solo, and invite you all to the award ceremony during the Duke's visit. A great honour ... Stillwater, a word.”

  Stillwater looks at me; her expression is not anger or rage, just resignation. On the other hand, if looks could kill, I would be dead twenty times over from Gunnar’s glare. Sometimes I wish I was like WayWocket; he is altogether oblivious to this whole scene.

  As Stillwater and Zlata did not move far, I can hear their whole conversation. Zlata is not very subtle. None of it sounds or looks good. I can see Stillwater is putting on a brave face to a barrage of finger-pointing, yelling, and worst of all, being stripped of her rank—from sergeant back down to, wow, corporal! I am choosing not to really listen to the whole thing, but it is very hard not to feel sorry for her, and also the Rejects.

  As Zlata turns to leave, she says, “And if I see, hear, or even dream of your team down at the warehouse district, not only will I have your commission, I will personally have you prosecuted by our highest law—and hanged!”

  Zlata then turns to me, smiles, and says, “Thank you again, Solo—for everything.” And with that, she leaves. I really do not want to be here now. I feel a spot in the middle of my shoulders about to have a stabbing pain. I hear Gunnar’s sharp intake of breath; I assume that he will either be threatening or insult me. Either way, I am boned.

  Stillwater looks at me and smiles. What? She turns, looks at Gunnar, and says, “No, Gunnar, he doesn't deserve you berating him about all of this.” I cannot believe this, what is happening here? She turns back to me. “I have said thank you for risking your life for Lana. I know her parents, and they are so very grateful for what you did. Pushing aside what Commander Zlata said, as it was very laudable, we should be proud of your medal and achievement.”

  “What? Sorry, you were just chewed out by that snake Zlata for nothing? I mean, I am sorry that you have been put in this predicament.”

  Gunnar starts to yell, “You should be—”

  “Gunnar, enough!” Stillwater commands. “The damage is done. There is nothing we can do about it. We are the ones at faul
t for being so worried about making waves that we forgot why we were here—to protect people!”

  I am trying to hide my smugness from Gunnar. He has been riding me since I was assigned to this squad. He notices anyway. “What are you smug about, you little—”

  “What did I say, Gunnar?” Stillwater yells.

  “But, boss, it doesn't excuse this piss-ant for being content with everything that just happened.” I see a small nod from Stillwater. Oh great! “Now look here, sieve-for-brains. Do you understand what this means?”

  “Sure I do! Well, sort of.” They stare at me. Now, who is on trial? “Okay, okay, no, I don't; except the part about me getting a medal.”

  “Congratu-fricking-lations, you are getting a lump of metal. You also allowed one of the most corrupt individuals in the Watch into a permanent position of power!” Gunnar yells.

  I do not understand. “What? I know Zlata's reputation, but how does that affect Stillwater?”

  This is when I found out more than I wanted to know about politics within the Watch. Next, Stillwater says a whole lot of stuff. Something, something Zlata—bitch. Blah, blah, commander post something. Blah was one of three officers, something, something.

  Brain, please pay attention. This is important.

  “—with my demotion, that only leaves Zlata and that spineless Denis for the permanent position of commander if Axel doesn't recover,” Stillwater explains.

  Gunnar continues on. “We can keep a low profile, white-bred, so long as we only show results in forgotten cases. But then you go and do something like this, so we—by Jara’s hammer!”

  Stillwater nods. “Yes, Gunnar, your overzealousness is the reason we are in this predicament. If we had just patted him on the back, Zlata wouldn't have heard anything about it, and wouldn’t have been given an excuse to demote me. Now that I think about it, she was probably going to forbid us to investigate those cold cases anyway; the ones possibly linked to the grain stores.”