Rising Tomorrow (Roc de Chere Book 1), Mariana Morgan [epub e ink reader .TXT] 📗

She could feel the nausea mixing with pain, but she fought to ignore it. Quickly but gingerly, she stripped the bodies of their clothes, and a pile of filthy and well-worn garments grew on the floor. She was in luck—the two thick cardigans she appropriated would come in handy underground, where the sun never reached. She briefly considered leaving her uniform in return—at least they would be able to trade the smart fabric—but decided against it. The attack was so fast they weren’t likely to remember her, let alone recognise who she was. If anyone ever asked them any questions, they wouldn’t be able to tell what they did not know.

Quickly, she donned the filthy rags, her already upset stomach heaving as her nostrils adapted to the stench. And then she hesitated.

Had she really been as fast as she thought? Had the three Leeches really seen nothing?

For a second, she considered killing them just to make sure all the loose ends were tied, but she couldn’t do it. Not like that. Not in cold blood when they were of no immediate danger to her, just some unfortunate Leeches that had something she needed. Instead she dragged each body in turn—her ribs protesting violently and making her queasy—into a corner and covered them with frayed blankets. At least if someone else stumbled upon the room, they would assume the dinky habitable unit was empty. Better that than leaving the unconscious bodies scattered across the floor, vulnerable to opportunists.

Bundling up the rest of the clothes, she had a quick look around. There was no point taking too much. If she didn’t have the Elite woman out of the slums in seventy-two hours, they would never make it.

Using one of the tops, she made a makeshift bag and quickly filled it up with scraps of food. The water in the unit was probably contaminated, but it was better than nothing. Her own military immunisations would likely hold; as for Eloise, the accumulation of toxins could be treated when they were safely out. A couple of days of bad water wouldn’t kill her.

Rummaging some more, Ingram found a stash of improvised weapons. A sharpened metal rod with one end wrapped in some sort of synthetic, sticky stuff and a makeshift knife made of rugged, rusted metal complemented her booty. There were a few other items as well, but she didn’t want to leave the occupants defenceless.

Finally, she used the metal knife to rip a long strip from one of the blankets and wrapped her ribs tightly. The constriction was annoying, but the stabbing pain fizzled down to a dull ache. Breathing also became easier.

On the way out, she spared a couple of minutes to close the door and return the surroundings to the state in which she had found them. Among all the damage done to the buildings in the last decades, it hardly looked out of place. The staircase remained eerily quiet.

‘I will be back, I promise,’ she whispered to herself, leaning her head into the doorframe. ‘I won’t be able to make up for this, but I will get you clothes, meds and food as soon as the Elite woman is safe.’

With a sigh, she pulled herself away, pushing aside the sense of guilt before it overwhelmed her. She couldn’t allow herself to think about that now.

Changing an unconscious and unresponsive body proved to be a challenge. The limbs seemed to multiply, bending when they shouldn’t and staying rigid when she needed them to bend. Eloise mumbled something incoherently but otherwise remained happily in the drug-induced coma. Ingram complemented the not-so-fancy-dress outfit by smearing some local grime and dirt over Eloise’s exposed skin.

‘I bet you’ve never looked so classy in your entire life, Elite, have you?’ she said with a giggle, distantly surprised that she could still find amusement in their predicament. Apparently, her dark sense of humour was a quality that stubbornly persisted through the good and the bad.

***

‘And just what the hell am I supposed to do with you now?’Ingram mused, munching on some stale rations. She needed a moment to rest before dragging the semi-unconscious Eloise any further.

They had made it nearly halfway down the thirty-something-storey building towards the basements before Ingram’s vision blurred. Breathing alone was difficult. With most of Eloise’s body weight on her shoulder, it was agony as the pain stabbed around her chest. Her eyes stung with sweat and she was dangerously lightheaded.

She couldn’t carry the Elite woman. Not in her current bashed-up state, and certainly not down a steep staircase when she might need to defend herself at any moment. She had risked bringing Eloise partially out of her drug-induced coma, just enough to give the other woman some ability to move her legs but carefully short of her higher brain functions returning.

The Elite’s state was precisely why patch-stripping was illegal and punished so harshly. If convicted as a Leech, Ingram would probably find her life forfeited and her body used for research. If she was lucky, the experiments would kill her quickly. If she was convicted as Elite Major Aisha Toscano, there probably would have been someone willing to cover for her, arguing she hadn’t had a choice. She would probably be dismissed from service, but even that wasn’t a given. A lot would depend on what Eloise Moretti would have to say when her memories came back. If she survived, that is.

None of that mattered to Ingram, however. She couldn’t get Eloise out of the slums if the other woman was in full panic. She needed her safely subdued and easy to handle. And she needed the chemicals in the patch to last.

‘Please let them last. The alternatives are shit,’ Ingram mumbled, taking another bite.

Without scanning equipment there was no telling how much of the meds had been used up earlier in the day, or how much of the necessary chemicals were still available. But for the time being, it was working perfectly. Eloise mumbled something now and