The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗

Jetha eyed us critically. “I brought a stretcher. Will you four be okay, getting back to the Nest?”

“We’re good,” said Jasper. “My leg’s sprained, not broken. Once we get up there, I’ll be fine to work on Lock.”

“How was he when you left?” I turned pleading eyes on Jetha. “Did he wake up at all? Was he talking?”

“He was still with us two hours ago.” Jetha’s expression turned grim. “As for the rest, I’d advise you don’t dawdle.”

Ben laid out the stretcher, and I helped Jasper lie down. Starkey set a brisk pace for the mountains, not quite a jog. I put my head down and shut out everything but the path under my feet, the crunch of dirt, the spill of pebbles, frost-slicks hidden under grass. The dawn set the snow on fire, and I mouthed a silent prayer—hold on. Just hold on.

One more goodbye would break me.

I ran ahead through the Nest and burst into Lock’s sickroom. He wasn’t alone. An old man stood over him, closing his eyes with a cloth. I must have cried out, because the old man jumped back, startled, and dropped his cloth on the floor.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said. “See? He’s still breathing. I’m just cleaning him up.”

“Cleaning—” I hunched over dizzily. “He’s alive? You’re sure?”

“It’s been some time since I’ve practiced medicine, but I still know living from dead. Come hold his hand. He’s been waiting.”

I rushed to Lock’s side, drawing strength from the old doctor’s calm. His hand twitched toward me, and I took it. It felt strange in my grasp, cold and spongy. His eyelids had swelled shut, lashes sticky with pus.

“What’s happening to him?”

“Let me take a look.” Jasper limped in, supported by Ben. He made his way to Lock’s bedside and pulled back the covers. I stifled a whimper—Lock’s limbs were swollen, his skin mottled and gray. He was bleeding from old wounds, through scar tissue gone soft. A rotten smell rose from him, like meat that’d gone off.

“Jasper?”

He reached for his stethoscope and listened to Lock’s heart. Pressed his thumb to an old scar, bringing clear fluid to the surface.

“He’s deteriorating,” he said. “The skin tends to go last, so we don’t have much time. Jerrod, secure his legs.”

The old doctor moved in, strapping Lock down at the ankles. Jasper got his wrists and buckled a strap over his chest. He shook his head doubtfully and turned to me.

“Do you think you can hold him if he breaks his restraints?”

“Breaks them?” I looked down at Lock. He lay weak as a kitten, flesh all but melting from his bones. “He couldn’t snap a bootlace, much less leather straps.”

“Right now, no, he couldn’t. But if my bots do their job, well—” He scratched his chin, pensive. “Nobody’s tried this before. I can’t predict his response. Best-case scenario, he’ll sleep through the whole thing.”

“And worst-case scenario?”

“I don’t know.” Jasper fetched a strange device, like a long metal cage, and fitted it to Lock’s leg. It dug into his flesh, spilling blood on the sheets.

“What’s that for?”

“It’ll take a few hours to complete the infusion. This holds the needles in place, so he can’t rip them out.” He tapped a series of metal canisters welded to the cage. I counted five in all.

“He has to take all of those?”

“Every last one. But after the initial shock, his body should acclimate. If he survives that, he might just pull through.”

“Oh, Lock.” I held his hand gently, careful not to squeeze him. “I’m here. Just hold on. Just—there’s a nice stream up here. You can take a bath when we’re done. You can slip right on in there, rinse the sand off your back.”

I babbled on, frantic, but if my words reached Lock’s ears, he gave no sign. Jasper moved around us, topping up Lock’s IV. He cleaned out his wounds and bound them with gauze, fixed a mask over his face and hooked up his gretha. Lock’s breathing settled as Jasper dialed up the flow.

“All ready?”

I licked my lips, tasting salt. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“It’s anything but.” Jasper cleared his throat. “Like I said, no one’s tried this. I can’t promise he’ll live. I can’t swear, if he does, he’ll be the Lock you remember. But this is our only option. It’s this, or let him go.”

My chest felt tight. I looked for Ben, but he’d vanished. I didn’t blame him. He’d seen enough death for one night, and this wasn’t his fight.

“Do it,” I said.

Jasper tapped the first canister. I heard a faint whine, like a computer starting up. A green light blinked on, and then... nothing. Lock lay unmoving, his hand limp in mine. His breath gurgled in his lungs. He was grinding his teeth, a soft, constant scrape—grinding and grinding, a vein pulsing in his jaw. I glanced at Jasper.

“Are you sure it went—”

Lock arched off the bed with a terrible, dying howl. Blood burst from his throat and splattered the inside of his mask. He seized and thrashed like he was drowning, and his right arm burst its cuff. He swung wild and knocked Jasper off his feet.

“Hold him,” roared Jerrod, and my paralysis broke. I threw myself on the bed, pinning Lock under my weight. It wasn’t enough. Lock kicked out hard, and his left leg broke free. His whole body went stiff, like a sculpture in marble, every cord in his neck straining against his skin. His lips peeled back from his teeth and his eyes opened wide. His chest restraint snapped, the buckle gouging my chin. Lock’s back bent the wrong way, like a jackknife in reverse. I felt his ribs crack, heard his breathing turn to choking.

“Stop him!” I flung myself on his chest, but it was like he’d turned to stone. His back popped and crackled, and I heard something tear. “He’ll break his spine. Make him—”

Jasper hauled himself upright. He’d gone pale with shock, but his voice rang with